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Here Cazi Moto came up in great perturbation to announce that two of the memsahib's porters were missing. The little headman did not understand how it happened, as he had zealously brought up the rear. Unless, of course, it was a case of desertion. Kingozi looked thoughtful, then ordered camp to be pitched. Accompanied by Simba, Mali-ya-bwana, and three askaris he took the back track.

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.

"That bibi is a great memsahib," he told Mali-ya-bwana. "And this evening we will go to see her. Be you ready to go also." In the early darkness of equatorial Africa Kingozi, accompanied by Mali- ya-bwana with a lantern, crossed over to the other camp. Simba and Cazi Moto had come in almost at dusk; but they were very tired, and Kingozi considered it advisable to let them rest.

And after two weeks you must send two men to M'tela's to find me, and to tell me where you are hidden. Now is all that understood? You, Simba, tell me what you are to do." "Mali-ya-bwana, myself, six men and these shenzis travel to where the safari of Bwana Nyele marches. When we are near that safari we tie up the two shenzis. Then we get Bwana Nyele and tie him up in a secret camp.

I cannot sleep; and the skin of my wrists is sore. He who watches has only to keep the fire bright. I cannot go like smoke." To Mali-ya-bwana, in his flattered and unsuspicious mood, this seemed reasonable.

"I was once in the King's African Rifles." "You can shoot, then?" "Yes, bwana." "Good!" commented Kingozi thoughtfully. Then after a moment: "Bassi." Mali-ya-bwana saluted once more and departed. Kingozi turned toward his tent. It had been pitched under a huge tree, with low, massive limbs and a shade that covered a diameter of fully sixty yards.

The flames cast lights and shadows within the banda where still the white man leaned on his elbow, the black men squatted on their heels, and the murmur of talk went on and on. But Winkleman got his way. At an appointed hour and at an appointed place Winkleman, Mali-ya-bwana, and two of the carriers met Simba conducting the gun bearer from the other camp. The interview was very short.

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?"

By the time the two men had gained the top of the hill the worst heat of the day had passed. Kingozi seated himself on a flat rock and at once began to take sights through a prismatic compass, entering the observations in a pocketbook. Mali-ya-bwana, bolt upright, stared out over the thinly wooded plain below.

Mali-ya-bwana was not a professed gun bearer, but he could load, and Kingozi believed him staunch. Therefore, often, in absence of Simba, the big Baganda had been pressed into this service. The blasting heat was fiercest at this hour. The air was saturated by it just as water may hold a chemical in solution.