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Updated: May 26, 2025
Oh! we know well, for like you we have our magic. The offering that they must make is the blood of Jana our god, which you have brought them here to kill with their strange weapons, as though any weapon could prevail against Jana the god. Now, give to us these white men that we may offer them to the god, and perchance Simba the King will let you go through."
And by exactly that proportion they might be a day's or a five days' journey distant! Carefully Kingozi examined the length of the range. At length his attention was arrested. A thread of smoke, barely distinguishable against the gray of distance, rose within the shadow of the hills. "Simba!" Kingozi summoned.
Simba shouted out something, whereon a man picked up the pistol and threw it into the fire, round which the others gathered to watch it burn. "You wait," I said to Marût, and as I spoke the words the inevitable happened. Off went the other barrel of the pistol, which hopped out of the fire with the recoil like a living thing.
They had covered probably thirty-five miles. Cazi Moto had found no water, and no traces of water. Furthermore, the game had thinned and disappeared. Only old tracks, old trails, old signs indicated that after the Big Rains the country might be habitable for the beasts. But Simba had discovered a concealed "tank" in a kopje.
Messengers come in from the outlying land telling us that nearly all the sheep and goats and very many of the cattle are slain. Soon we shall starve." "As you deserve to starve," I answered. "Now will you let us go?" Simba stared at me doubtfully, then began to whisper into the ear of the lamed diviner. I could not catch what they said, so I watched their faces.
He was a skilled man at this, none more so; nevertheless he failed. For in the persons of Simba and Mali-ya-bwana he was dealing not with natives, but with another white man as shrewd and experienced as himself.
I have no headman." "Who takes your orders, then?" "The askaris." "Which one?" "Any of them." She made a mouth. "Don't look at me in that fashion. Is that so very dreadful?" "It's impossible. You can never run a safari in that way. Simba, bring all the askaris." Simba departed on his errand. Kingozi turned to her gravely. "Dear lady," said he gravely, "I am going to offend you again.
What do you beyond your southern boundary of the Tava river in the territory of the Black Kendah, that was sealed to them by pact after the battle of a hundred years ago? Is not all the land to the north as far as the mountains and beyond the mountains enough for you? Simba the King let you go out, hoping that the desert would swallow you, but return you shall not."
"Cazi Moto! Simba!" he shouted angrily. "Bwana?" "Sah?" two panting voices answered. "What is this?" They both began to speak at once. "You, Cazi Moto," commanded Kingozi. "These men are liars," began Cazi Moto. "What men?" "These men who brought the barua. They tell lies, bad lies, and we beat them for it." "Since when have you beaten liars? And since when have I ceased to deal punishment?
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.
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