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Updated: June 11, 2025
This was a great satisfaction to Kingozi, though none knew better than he how any chance gust of influence or passion could veer the wind. Still it was something to start on; and something more or less unexpected and unhoped for. M'tela himself supplied the reason in the course of one of their interminable conversations. "I am pleased to see the white man," he said.
By the end of that time it had been borne in on the Leopard Woman that Winkleman had not yet arrived. Kingozi and M'tela circled each other warily, like two strange dogs, though all the time with an appearance of easy and intimate cordiality. As yet Kingozi had neither confided to the savage the fact of his blindness nor visited the royal palace.
There remain now nine days to wait until we must bring this m'zungu to Bwana Kingozi at the manyatta of M'tela." "It is indeed great magic," agreed Mali-ya-bwana. "How many days is the manyatta?" "I do not know. These shenzis should know; but they talk only monkey talk. Here, let us try." He drew one of the prisoners one side. "M'tela," he enunciated slowly.
"That is well," replied Kingozi calmly. "In one hour we shall go." They set off through the beautiful country in their usual order of march. The warriors of M'tela accompanied them, walking ahead, behind, and on either flank. The drums roared incessantly, the trumpets of horn sounded. It was a triumphal procession, but rather awe-inspiring.
One of the goatherds went with them as guide to M'tela. "Without doubt," Kingozi surmised, "others have run on to warn M'tela of our coming." Their way led on a gentle, steady up grade without steep climbs.
At ten paces M'tela stopped and deliberately inspected his visitor for a full half-minute. Then he advanced and dropped to the stool an obsequious and zealous slave placed for him. "Jambo, papa," he said casually. His manner was perfect. The thousand or so human beings who crowded the clearing might not have existed.
Simba went through the movements of a man walking, pronounced the name of M'tela, pointed out the direction, and then repeated his previous pantomime. A light broke on the shenzi. He held up four fingers. Simba next called to Mali-ya-bwana to interrogate the other prisoner apart. As the latter also reported M'tela four days distant when he understood this was accepted as the truth.
Well, good luck. Cazi Moto, take Mali-ya-bwana and two askari guns, and go with Bwana Nyele to the palace of M'tela." Scarcely had the group disappeared down the forest path when Kingozi was at the tent door of the Leopard Woman. "Hodie?" he pronounced the native word of one desiring entrance. "Who is there?" she asked in Swahili. "I Culbertson." A slight pause; then her voice: "Come."
She seemed never to have heard of the name of M'tela; yet this map's sole reason for being was that it indicated at least the beginning of a route to M'tela's country. Could she be on the same errand as himself? That sounded fantastic. Kingozi reviewed the circumstances. M'tela was a formidable myth, gradually taking shape as a reality. He was reported as a mighty chief of distant borders.
"Yes, it is from Winkleman. He has come in from the Congo side. When this letter was written he was only ten days' march from M'tela." "How do you know that?" interjected Kingozi sharply. "Native information, he says. Oh, I am so glad! so glad! so glad!" "That was the plan from the start, was it?" said Kingozi. "I don't know whether it was a good plan or that I have been thick.
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