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He wore a piece of cotton cloth dyed black, so draped as to leave one arm and shoulder bare, a polished bone armlet, and a tarboush that must have been traded through many hands. "The sultani, bwana," murmured the ever-alert Cazi Moto. M'tela wandered to where Kingozi sat. The white man did not move, but appeared to stare absently straight before him.
We shall go with all the men as far as the people of the sultani. There we will leave many porters and many loads. With a few men we will go to Bwana Marefu. When he has fixed my eyes, then we will come back. I will fix a barua for Bwana. This must be sent on ahead of us so he can come to meet us. Pick two good men for messengers. Is all that understood?" "Yes, bwana."
"Good girl!" said he. "You use your intelligence. These are all good points to know." "But this old man " "No; I have not insulted him. I know the native mind. I have merely convinced him that I am every bit as important a person as his sultani." "What do you do next? Call on the sultani." "By no means. Wait until he comes. If he does not come by, say to-morrow, send for him."
Kingozi threw a careless glance in the direction of the approaching group. "Not the sultani some understrapper. Chief Hereditary Guardian of the Royal Chair, or something of that sort, I dare say." The tall man approached, smiling graciously. Kingozi vouchsafed him no attention. Visibly impressed, the newcomer rather fussily superintended the unfolding and placing of the chair.
"These shenzis are good?" meaning friendly. "Bwana, the sultani of these people is a great lord. He has many people, and much riches. He has told, his people to come with me. He prepares the guest house for you." "Tired, Simba?" "It has been a long path since sunup, bwana. But I had water, and the people gave me potio and meat. I am strong."
O day of God's grace! and followed her till she stopped and knocked at the door of a house, when there came out a Nazarene, to whom she gave a dinar, and he gave her in return an olive-green bottle, full of wine, which she put into the basket, saying to the porter, 'Hoist up and follow me. Said he, 'By Allah, this is indeed a happy and fortunate day! And shouldering the basket, followed her till she came to a fruiterer's, where she bought Syrian apples and Turkish quinces and Arabian peaches and autumn cucumbers and Sultani oranges and citrons, beside jessamine of Aleppo and Damascus water-lilies and myrtle and basil and henna-blossoms and blood-red anemones and violets and sweet-briar and narcissus and camomile and pomegranate flowers, all of which she put into the porter's basket, saying, 'Hoist up! So he shouldered the basket and followed her, till she stopped at a butcher's shop and said to him, 'Cut me off ten pounds of meat. He gave her the meat, wrapped in a banana leaf, and she put it in the basket, saying, 'Hoist up, O porter! and went on to a grocer's, of whom she took pistachio kernels and shelled almonds and hazel-nuts and walnuts and sugar cane and parched peas and Mecca raisins and all else that pertains to dessert.
I'll have a business talk with her." As the tone of voice sounded final to Simba he ventured his usual reply. "Yes, suh!" said Simba. The sultani duly appeared the next morning; women brought in firewood and products of the country to trade; all was well. The entire day, and the succeeding days for over a week, Kingozi sat under his big tree, smoking his black pipe. The sultani sat beside him.
All the day's march he walked fifty yards ahead of the long procession. The Leopard Woman walked part of the time; part of the time she rode a donkey procured from the sultani. The two necessarily held little converse during the day. At camp Kingozi had many tasks camp to arrange, meat to procure, sick to doctor, guides to interrogate.
"I am not the sultani," he answered in very bad Swahili; "I am the headman of the sultani." Kingozi continued to stare at him in the most uncompromising manner. In the meantime the younger man had loosed the thong from his wrist and had placed the stool on a level spot. The prime minister to the sultani arranged his robe preparatory to sitting down.
He wore a number of anklets and armlets of polished wire, a broad beaded collar, heavy earrings, and a sumptuous robe of softened goatskins embroidered with beads and cowrie shells. As he strode his anklets clashed softly. His girt was free, and he walked with authority. Altogether an impressive figure. "The sultani is a fine-looking man," observed Bibi-ya-chui. "I suppose the others are slaves."
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