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Morbid sort of fancy I call it, but I've got to do what the Memsahib tells me. Would you believe that the man she hired it from tells me that all four of the men, they were brothers, died of cholera, on the way to Hardwár, poor devils; and the 'rickshaw has been broken up by the man himself. Told me he never used a dead Memsahib's 'rickshaw. Spoilt his luck. Queer notion, wasn't it?
"You have heard the memsahib speak, you men of the memsahib's safari," remarked Kingozi; then: "You, Jack, whom I made chief of askaris, you speak." "What does the bwana say of this?" came Jack's deep voice after a moment. "You have heard." "What the bwana says is law." "Does any man of you think differently? Speak!" No voice answered. Kingozi turned to where, he knew, the Leopard Woman stood.
Morbid sort of fancy I call it; but I've got to do what the Memsahib tells me. Would you believe that the man she hired it from tells me that all four of the men they were brothers died of cholera on the way to Hard-war, poor devils; and the 'rickshaw has been broken up by the man himself. 'Told me he never used a dead Memsahib's 'rickshaw. 'Spoiled his luck. Queer notion, wasn't it?
Billy understood Swahili well enough at that time to gather that they could not understand the Memsahib's wanting the meat "kibokoed"-FLOGGED. Was it a religious rite, or a piece of revenge? They gave it up. "All right," said Mahomet patiently at last. "He say he do it. Part of our supplies comprised tins of dehydrated fruit.
The Shereefian officers stood back at a respectful distance, ready to salute when the personage should deign to alight. "What shall be done with the memsahib's hat?" demanded Narayan Singh. You could only see the whites of his eyes, but he shook something in his right hand. "Eat it!" Grim answered. "Heavens! That's my best hat!" objected Mabel. "Give it here. I'll carry it under the cloak."
To the one belonged the mysteries of the "duftar-room"; to the other the great, reflected wilderness of the "Memsahib's room" where the shiny, scented dresses hung on pegs, miles and miles up in the air, and the just-seen plateau of the toilet-table revealed an acreage of speckly combs, broidered "hanafitch bags," and "white-headed" brushes.
The one great anxiety was lest he should die of old age before the date appointed for the memsahib's shoot. Mothers carrying their babies home through the jungle after the day's work in the fields hushed their singing lest they might curtail the restful sleep of the venerable herd-robber. The great night duly arrived, moonlit and cloudless.
That's the Memsahib's work, I know; because, when Tsin-ling tried to burn gilt paper before him, she said it was a waste of money, and, if he kept a stick burning very slowly, the Joss wouldn't know the difference. So now we've got the sticks mixed with a lot of glue, and they take half an hour longer to burn, and smell stinky. Let alone the smell of the room by itself.
That's the Memsahib's work, I know; because, when Tsin-ling tried to burn gilt paper before him, she said it was a waste of money, and, if he kept a stick burning very slowly, the Joss wouldn't know the difference. So now we've got the sticks mixed with a lot of glue, and they take half-an-hour longer to burn, and smell stinky. Let alone the smell of the room by itself.
Mali-ya-bwana, under his directions, had undone the loads containing the lanterns. Everything seemed now ready for the start. All of Kingozi's safari had arrived except Cazi Moto and five men. "Have you any water left?" Kingozi asked the Leopard Woman. She stared straight ahead of her, refusing to answer. Unperturbed, Kingozi turned to the Nubian. "Which is memsahib's canteen?"
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