Part 23 (2/2)
She returned to her tent.
”Here!” she addressed the crouching Nubian. ”It is as I said. You have been a fool. You have killed a porter by mistake. Now the _bwana_ has ordered to _fall in_. He wishes to see if any are missing. Go take your place, and answer to your name.”
”Oh, _memsahib!_ Oh, _memsahib!_” the man was groaning.
”Go, I say!” she cried. ”And hold up your head. If this is suspected of you, you will surely die.”
Kingozi called the roll by the light of a replenished fire.
As each man was named, he was required to step forward to undergo Kingozi's scrutiny.
Most were uneasy, many were excited. Kingozi pa.s.sed them rapidly in review. But when Chake came forward, he paused in the machine-like regularity of his inspection.
”Hullo, my bold buccaneer,” said he in English, ”what ails you?”
The Leopard Woman had drawn near. Kingozi glanced at her over his shoulder.
”I know these Fuzzy-Wuzzies pretty well,” he remarked. ”This man has the blood look in his eye.”
”He's been sick all day,” she ventured.
”Sick, eh? Have you had him about you all evening?”
The Leopard Woman hesitated the least appreciable portion of a second.
”No,” she answered, ”he was sick; I let him sleep in his own camp.”
She withdrew a pace, almost as though was.h.i.+ng her hands of the affair.
Kingozi whirled and levelled his forefinger at the Nubian.
”Why did you use a _shenzi_ spear?” he demanded.
Over Chake's face had come the blank, lifeless expression of the obstinate savage. Kingozi recognized it, and knew that further interrogation was a matter of much time and patience. His eyes and head ached cruelly.
”Very well,” he answered the Nubian's unspoken opposition. ”You'll keep. Simba, get me the hand irons and the leg irons. Guard this man.
To-morrow we will look into it.” He turned away without waiting to see his commands carried out. ”I've got a beastly headache,” he remarked to Bibi-ya-chui. ”This affair--this whole affair--will keep. Cazi Moto, I want two men with guns--my men--to stand by my tent, one in front, one in the rear.”
The Leopard Woman watched his drooping, wearied form making its way to his tent. He walked shuffling, almost stumbling. The habitual masking stare of her eyes changed. Something softer, almost yearning, crept into them. When the tent flaps had fallen behind him she threw both arms aloft in a splendid tragic gesture, careless of the staring men.
Her face was convulsed by strong emotion. She turned and fled to her own tent, where she threw herself face down on her cot.
”It must be done! It must be done!” she groaned to her pillow.
CHAPTER XVII
THE DARKNESS
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