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"We will use it but a little while longer," Kingozi concluded. "Then you shall have it again." "But to give this specimen to a gun bearer!" cried Winkleman in English. "That is craziness! It is a museum piece." "It belongs to him; and I have promised," said Kingozi. Winkleman subsided with deep rumblings. After a moment he renewed his discussion. Kingozi only half heard him.
So when Winkleman came swashbuckling up the hill M'tela was prepared. The blue-black beard and hearty, deep-chested carriage of the Bavarian impressed him greatly. "But this is a great bwana, papa," he said to Kingozi. "Like you and me." "This is the prisoner of which I spoke to you," said Kingozi in a loud voice.
Earnestly did she strive to repress the disturbed beatings of her heart, but she strove in vain. And it seemed to her, as it often does in such cases, that everything went wrong. The children were fretful, the cook dilatory and cross, and Mr. Winkleman impatient, because sundry little matters pertaining to his wardrobe were not just to his mind. "Eight o'clock, and no breakfast yet," said Mr.
A few gleams of light shone into the mind of Mr. Winkleman, as he returned musing to his office, and he saw that he was often to blame for the clouds that darkened so often over the sky of home. "Mary is foolish," he said, in partial self-justification, "to take my hasty words so much to heart. I speak often without meaning half what I say. She ought to know me better.
Certainly Winkleman had not yet arrived, and he was long overdue. On the other hand, neither had Simba nor Mali-ya-bwana reported; and they were equally overdue. These were ticklish times; and Kingozi had great difficulty in sitting calmly in his canvas chair listening to the endless inconsequences of a savage. The Leopard Woman could not understand how he did it.
Nevertheless he would have awaited the outcome with serene indifference could he have been certain of a dear field. The arrival of Winkleman would, he secretly admitted, upset him completely. Winkleman another white man, possessed of powers he did not possess, of wonders he did not own, of knowledge equal to his would have no difficulty in taking the lead from him.
Nor had he Simba's magic bone. Simba took that with him. Winkleman knew nothing of the supposed virtues of that property; and in consequence entertained a respect for qualities of Simba that were not entirely inherent in that individual.
Winkleman, a twinkle in his wide eyes, but with his countenance composed to gravity, stepped forward, salaamed, and placed his forehead beneath Kingozi's hand in token of submission. Thus proper relations were established. Winkleman seated himself humbly on the sod, and kept silence, while high converse went forward. At length M'tela departed.
"His business is to fight." "Ah!" ejaculated Winkleman. "To fight!" "Yes. His business is to fight the elephant." Winkleman swore. He could get at nothing this way. He must give his mind to escape. Early the next morning Simba started. He took with him, of course, his magic bone; but, like a canny general, he carried also the rifle.
Ever hear of Winkleman?" "Rather! The native fundi? You don't mean to say you've got him!" "I've got him. He's the only specimen in these parts. But I can show you several thousand of the best fighting men in Africa all loyal British allies." "Good man!" cried a grizzled old settler. "I told 'em you'd do it!" "But the war?" demanded Kingozi eagerly. "What of the war? Tell me?
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