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Updated: May 17, 2025
The safari men did their best to imitate Kingozi's attitude of indifference; and succeeded fairly well, but their eyes rolled in their heads. The Leopard Woman sat her donkey, and surveyed it all with appreciative eyes.
The friendship of M'tela and his umpty-thousand spears became important. His hostility could cause endless trouble and delay. Kingozi's present job was to lay the foundations for this friendship. "You have a free hand, Culbertson," the very high official had said to him. "We are not going to suggest or advise. Choose your own men; take as many or as few as you please.
But there was the indubitable secret map, and the indubitable concealment of purpose; and to Kingozi's mind the indubitable attempt to make travelling so tedious that he would split safaris and permit her to go alone. This led to another conclusion. He could not see the reason for it all, but one thing was clear: she must not even now be allowed to take her own course.
"I see." Kingozi's accent was getting to be more formally polite. "But why you? Why did not your most efficient employers dispatch an ordinary assassin? I do not err in assuming that you all knew that this war was to be declared at this time." "That is true." Her voice still sang, her high spirits unsubdued by his veiled sarcasm. "Then since it is war, why not have me shot and done with it?
He stood it as long as he could, then shouted "Kalele!" at them in so fierce a tone that the human silence was dead and immediate. But this made prominent other lesser noises. Kingozi's headache was worse. He tossed and turned, but at last fell into a half-waking stupor. He was brought to full consciousness by the entrance of Cazi Moto. He opened his eyes.
Mali-ya-bwana and the other fourteen of Kingozi's safari who were now present brought their loads up and began to pile them under Kingozi's direction. "Quickly!" called Kingozi in brisk, cheerful tones. "The water is not far, but the day is nearly gone. We must march quickly, even without loads." The import of the command began to reach the other porters.
But I have told him that you are my enemy; and he sent his men with mine to find you; and now, as you can well comprehend, I must " But Winkleman's quick comprehension leaped ahead of Kingozi's speech. "I must play the prisoner, is it not?" he cried with one of his big laughs. "But so! Of course! That is comprehend. How could it be otherwise? I know my native! I know what he expects.
There are people in the hills. There will be people near the water. Get them to help you carry back the water bottles." Simba selected Mali-ya-bwana to accompany him, but this did not meet Kingozi's ideas. "I want that man," said he. Simba and one of the other leading porters started away. Kingozi gave his attention to the members of the other safari. They sat and sprawled in all attitudes.
In all their magnificence they stalked abroad, lords of the veldt. Kingozi's finger itched for the trigger. There is no more exciting sport than that of lion shooting afoot. It is a case of kill or be killed; for a lion, once the issue is joined, never gives up.
It seemed that a half-hour's easy walk should take them to the foothills. Yet not a man there but knew that this nearness was exactly as deceitful as the distance had been before. The afternoon wore on. Kingozi's canteen was all but empty, though he had drunk sparingly, a swallow at a time. His tongue was slightly swollen.
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