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Updated: June 17, 2025
You must give me your parole neither to try to escape nor to tamper with my men, with M'tela, or any of his people. If you feel you cannot do this I shall be compelled to hold you closely guarded." Winkleman laughed one of his great gusty laughs. "I give it willingly. What foolishness otherwise. What foolishness anyway, all this. War is nonsense. It destroys. It interferes.
Winkleman, as he drew out his watch, on completing his own toilet. Mrs. Winkleman was in the act of dressing the last of five children, all of whom had passed under her hands. Each had been captious, cross, or unruly, sorely trying the mother's patience.
For Winkleman was a big man in every way: tall, broad, thick, with a massive head, large features, and such a tremendous black beard! Well had he deserved his native name of Bwana Nyele the master with the mane. Simba awaited the moment of greatest confusion in the placing and pitching of the camp, and then advanced timidly, holding out the bone Kingozi had given him.
Winkleman immediately plunged into the conversational gap around which, mentally, he had been, impatiently hovering for an hour. "But this articulation of the saurus" he broke out. "What of it?" "The magic bone," chuckled Kingozi. "Pouf! Pouf! It resembled much the cinoliosaurus, but that could not be." "Why not?" demanded Kingozi quickly.
But fortunes of war it is but the fortunes of war I would have done worse to you. How long is it that you have arrived?" "Long enough," replied Kingozi briefly. "Oh, Cazi Moto, bring tea! I have had your tent pitched, Doctor Winkleman; and you must bathe and change and rest. But before you go we must understand each other. This is war time, and you are my prisoner.
"Ach!" he cried, recognizing Kingozi's two men. "So it is you! What have you done with my safari?" "I led it to my bwana," replied Simba. "Where you may now lead me," said Winkleman resignedly. "By what means have you thought of these things, N'ympara?" "By the magic of this," replied Simba with becoming modesty, producing the precious bone. "Ach the saurian!" cried Winkleman. "I remember.
Over and over he drilled them until the details were thoroughly understood. Then he dismissed them and leaned back with a sigh. The plan was simple, but ought to work. At the moment of making camp Winkleman would be less apt than at any other time to take with him an escort especially if his interest or cupidity were aroused for every one would be exceedingly busy.
Winkleman had been at considerable pains to provide for her husband, was set beside his plate. It was his favourite among many, and his wife looked for a pleased recognition thereof, and a lighting up of his clouded brow. But he did not seem even to notice it. After supplying the children, Mr. Winkleman helped himself in silence.
Time enough to convince poor blind Kingozi that the game was up when he had to some extent recovered from the strain and fatigue of the long journey. But Winkleman was a good sort. She knew him: a big, hearty, bearded Bavarian, polyglot, intensely scientific, with a rolling deep voice. He must have had ten days a week anyway to use his acknowledged arts and influence on the savage king.
Winkleman puffed out his chest and protruded his great beard. "This war foolishness!" he mumbled. "Yes, we have much to talk about. Nevertheless," said Kingozi with slight embarrassment, "it is necessary that I do my duty according to my orders. And my orders were much like yours to get the alliance of this M'tela.
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