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Updated: May 17, 2025
They slouched along at his heels, sullen and careless, but when they felt the impact of Kingozi's cold glare, they straightened to attention. Kingozi ran his eye over them. "Where are the other four?" he demanded. "Three are in the shenzis' village. One says he is very tired." "Take Mali-ya-bwana and Cazi Moto. Take the leg chains. Bring that one man before me with the chains on him.
In spite of Kingozi's reassuring words, the impression of savage power as the warriors debouched from the wood had been vivid enough to give emphasis to a strong feeling of relief when their intentions proved peaceful. The revulsion accentuated her enjoyment of the picturesque aspects of the scene.
Kingozi's heart bounded, and his knuckles whitened as he gripped his rifle. "Bwana hapana piga?" Simba implored. "Is not bwana going to shoot?" But Kingozi shook his head. The temptation was strong, but he resisted it. He refrained from shooting at the lions for exactly the same reason that he had insulated himself against the Leopard Woman's charms.
Here the Leopard Woman had written the German word nein! underscored several times. So far Kingozi's sketches and the German map were the same. But the German map furnished all details for some distance in advance. This village was indicated, and the mountains, and plains beyond. The three practical routes were plotted by means of red lines.
Thereupon all the rest laughed after the strange, heartless custom of the African native. Or is it heartless? We do not know. The day's march had passed through the phase of coordinated action. It was now the duty of each man to get in if he could. It was Kingozi's duty to arrive first, and to arrange succour for Cazi Moto and those whom he drove.
A punishment of twenty-five is as much as the most stoical can stand in silence; fifty as much as can be absorbed without permanent injury; seventy-five an extreme resorted to on a very few desperately rare occasions. Beyond that no experience taught the result. Kingozi's sentence was equivalent to death by torture. He leaned forward in his chair, listening intently.
It had gone from my mind. It is a curious type; I do not quite recognize. Let me see it." But Simba was replacing carefully the talisman in its wrappings. He had no mind to deliver the magic into other hands perhaps to be used against himself! They led Winkleman directly to Kingozi's camp. Winkleman followed, looking always curiously about him. His was the true scientific mind.
He remained only long enough to substitute his mosquito boots for his day boots. The Nubian, lying in the long grass beside the newly sharpened spear, settled himself to wait. Kingozi's figure lost itself among the men of the camp. The strong, clean wind that blew every day from distant ranges, was falling with the night. A breath of coolness came with it.
Until his influence over M'tela was quite assured, Winkleman's arrival would probably turn the scale. She had not prevented Kingozi's arriving before the Bavarian; but she might hold the Englishman comparatively powerless. That was understandable. Kingozi felt he might even love her the more for this evidence of a faithful spirit. But the last few days!
Then she dropped her arms, and came back to Kingozi's side. Again it was like magic, the sudden blotting out of the slim human figure, the substitution of the draped form as she moved from the light into the shadow. But on Kingozi's retina remained the vision of her as she was. He shifted, caught his breath. As she came near him his hand closed over hers, bringing her to a halt.
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