Part 12 (1/2)
”Yes, _bwana_.”
”_Vema!_ And the men of the Leopard Woman?”
”Many died, _bwana_; but many are here.”
Kingozi arose to his feet.
”I must have food. These _shenzis_ eat what?”
”Food is ready, _bwana_.”
”I will eat. Then we must make _shauri_ with these people to get our loads. My men must rest to-day.”
”Come, _bwana_,” said Cazi Moto.
Kingozi stooped to pa.s.s through the door. When he straightened outside, he paused in amazement. Before him stood his camp, intact. The green tent with the fly faced him, the flaps thrown back to show within his cot and tin box. White porters' tents had been pitched in the usual circle, and before each squatted men cooking over little fires. The loads, covered by the tarpaulin, had been arranged in the centre of the circle. At a short distance to the rear the cook camp steamed.
Cazi Moto stood at his elbow grinning.
”Hot water ready, _bwana_,” said he; and for the first time Kingozi noticed that he carried a towel over his arm.
”This is good, very good, Cazi Moto!” said he. ”_Backshees.h.i.+ m'kubwa_ for this; both for you and for Simba.”
”Thank you, _bwana_,” said Gaza Moto. ”Simba brought the water, and it saved us; and I thought that my _bwana_ should not sleep on gra.s.s a second time before these _shenzis_.”
”Who carried in the loads? Not our porters?”
”No, _bwana_, the _shenzis_.”
Kingozi glanced at his wrist watch. It was only ten o'clock. ”When?”
”Last night.”
”They went back last night?”
”Yes, _bwana_. Mali-ya-bwana considered that it was bad to leave the loads. There might be hyenas--or the _shenzis_----”
Kingozi slapped his thigh with satisfaction. This was a man after his own heart.
”Call Mali-ya-bwana,” he ordered.
The tall Baganda approached.
”Mali-ya-bwana,” said Kingozi. ”You have done well. For this you shall have _backshees.h.i.+_. But more. You need not again carry a load. You will be--” he hesitated, trying to invent an office, but reluctant to infringe upon the prerogatives of either Simba or Cazi Moto. ”You will be headman of the porters; and you, Cazi Moto, will be headman of all the safari, and my own man besides.”
The Baganda drew himself erect, his face s.h.i.+ning. Placing his bare heels together, he raised his hand in a military salute. Kingozi was about to dismiss him, but this arrested his intention.
”Where did you learn to do that?” he asked sharply.
”I was once in the King's African Rifles.”[7]