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Updated: June 25, 2025
All night long, as Bones turned from side to side in his hot cabin, listening to the ineffectual buzzings of the flies that sought, unsuccessfully, to reach the interior of the cabin through a fine meshed screen, the problem of N'bosini revolved in his mind. Was it likely, thought Bones, cunningly, that men should invent a country, even erring men, seeking an excuse?
This only we know, lord, we, of your soldiers, who have followed Sandi through all his high adventures, that when men talk of N'bosini, there is trouble, for they are seeking something to excuse their own wickedness."
"You think poor old Bones is a goop," said Lieutenant Tibbetts with a pitying smile, "and yet the name of poor old Bones is going down to posterity, sir." "That is posterity's look-out," said Hamilton, offensively; but Bones ignored the rudeness. "You also imagine that there is no such land as the N'bosini, I think?"
Presently I will return, bringing with me strange news, such as no white lord, not even Sandi, has received or heard, and cunning weapons which only N'bosini use and strange magics. Also will I bring you stories of their river, but I will go alone, though I die, for what am I that I should deny myself from the service of your lordship?"
Thus, subtly, was Bosambo saddled with all responsibility in the matter. Hamilton's parting injunction to Bones had been: "Be immensely civil to Bosambo, because he is rather sore with you and he is a very useful man." Regarding him, as he did, as the final authority upon the N'bosini, Bones made elaborate preparations to carry out his chief's commands.
"O, Mahomet," said he, "tell me of this N'bosini of which men speak, and in which all native people believe, for my lord M'ilitani has said that there is no such place and that it is the dream of mad people."
It was a letter in Arabic in Bosambo's characteristic and angular handwriting. "From Bosambo, the servant of the Prophet, of the upper river in the city of the Ochori, to M'ilitani, his master. Peace on your house. "In the name of God I send you this news. My lord with the moon-eye, making inquiries about the N'bosini, came to the Ochori and I told him much that he wrote down in a book.
"Now this I tell you," Bosambo shook his finger impressively, "that the N'bosini lives." "Where?" asked Bones, quickly. Already he saw himself lecturing before a crowded audience at the Royal Geographical Society, his name in the papers, perhaps a Tibbett River or a Francis Augustus Mountain added to the sum of geographical knowledge.
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