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Updated: June 26, 2025
"You may well thank me. I have saved your life!" she cried hysterically, and was gone. Kingozi did not examine the meaning of this; indeed, it hardly registered at all as it was to him evidently the product of excitement. He forgot even the scandalized Cazi Moto squatting at his feet. For a long time he stared sightlessly straight ahead. He could not explain this woman.
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?"
I have often heard our servants discuss our respective merits. "Your master," say my servants to Livingstone's, "is a good man a very good man; he does not beat you, for he has a kind heart; but ours oh! he is sharp hot as fire" "mkali sana, kana moto."
"The look of you; and just this moment I thrust suddenly at your face." Cazi Moto arrived with the medicine chest which he placed at his master's feet, and opened. Kingozi extracted the three bottles. "The table is directly in front of you," came the Leopard Woman's voice. He reached out, and after a moment deposited the vials on the table. "It's one of these," he said, "but I don't know which.
The green tent with the fly faced him, the flaps thrown back to show within his cot and tin box. White porters' tents had been pitched in the usual circle, and before each squatted men cooking over little fires. The loads, covered by the tarpaulin, had been arranged in the centre of the circle. At a short distance to the rear the cook camp steamed. Cazi Moto stood at his elbow grinning.
There was no pain. After a while Cazi Moto came to report that the Leopard Woman was out and about. Kingozi's message had been delivered. "She says you shall come to her tent," concluded Cazi Moto. Kingozi considered. To insist that she should come to him might lead to a downright refusal, unless he sent her word of his condition. This he did not wish to do.
At last the white man's fingers made out distinctly a capital M. He erased it with a sweep of the hand. "That part of the barua again," he ordered. After a time Cazi Moto repeated the feat. "Once more." This was quicker. Kingozi dropped that bottle into his side pocket with a sigh of relief. "Evidently the morphine," he said. "We'll try it again later to be sure.
Then he spoke to Cazi Moto in a vibrating voice. "Bring me the chest of medicines. Now," he went on to Winkleman, when this command had been executed, "kindly read to me the labels on all these bottles; begin at the left. All, please." He listened attentively while Winkleman obeyed. The pilocarpin was present; the atropin was gone. "You have not deceived me?" he cried sharply.
"Pilocarpin, of course!" What luck! He fervently blessed the shortage of phenacetin that had forced him to take pilocarpin as a sweating substitute for fever. "Cazi Moto!" he called. Then, as the headman hurried up: "Get me the box of medicines, quick!" He waited until he heard the little man reenter the tent. "Place it here," he commanded. "Now go." He groped for the case, opened it
"It is a rich safari, bwana," Cazi Moto reported; "many loads." His voice sharpened with surprise, but he did not raise his tones. "Simba is there," said he. "Simba! So they caught him," muttered Kingozi. "Well, that play failed. Do you see the white man?" he asked. "No, bwana. The white man has not yet come. But Simba now sees us, and is coming." "He is guarded?" "No, bwana; he is alone."
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