Part 40 (1/2)

”Yes, _bwana_,” agreed the gun bearer.

Then they parted. The immediate result was five loads of _potio_ brought by safari men to ”somewhere in Africa,” and thence transported by Simba's men to Simba's camp. As game was thereabout abundant and undisturbed everybody was happy.

Thus pa.s.sed a week, which brought time forward to the moment when Simba, following his instructions, was to report to Kingozi at the village of M'tela. Therefore Simba set forth, taking with him, according to African custom, one of the porters as companion. He carried Kingozi's rifle, but left that belonging to Winkleman with Mali-ya-bwana.

Winkleman watched Simba go with considerable satisfaction.

Mali-ya-bwana was a man much above average African intelligence, but he had not the experience, the initiative, the _flaire_ of Simba. 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. He began to flatter Mali-ya-bwana; to fraternize just enough; to a.s.sume complete resignation to his plight--in short, to use just those tactics a clever man would use to lull the alertness of any bright child. Naturally he succeeded. At sundown of the second day he began to complain of the irksomeness of his bonds.

”This is foolishness, so to treat a _m'zungu_,” said he. ”Nothing is gained. I cannot sleep; and the skin of my wrists is sore. He who watches has only to keep the fire bright. I cannot go like smoke.”

To Mali-ya-bwana, in his flattered and unsuspicious mood, this seemed reasonable. He was no such fool as to turn Winkleman loose to his own devices; but he compromised by untying the Bavarian's wrists, and doubling the thongs by which the latter's ankles were hitched to the larger timbers of the _banda_. Also he instructed the sentinel to keep the fire bright, to watch _Bwana_ Nyele, and to stop instantly any and all movements of the hands toward the feet.

The early watches pa.s.sed quietly. A second sentinel replaced the first.

Up to this time Winkleman had slept quietly. Now he began to s.h.i.+ft position often, to twist and turn, finally to groan softly. The sentinel came to the end of the _banda_ and looked in. To him _Bwana_ Nyele raised a face so ghastly that even the half-savage porter was startled. The man's eyes seemed to have sunk into his head, deep seams to have creased his brow and jaws. Apparently Winkleman was on the point of dissolution.

”_Magi! nataka magi!_”[16] he gasped.

[Footnote 16: Water! I want water!]

The sentinel took the canteen from the peg where it hung and bent over the dying man. Instantly his throat was clasped by a pair of heavy and powerful hands.

Two minutes later Winkleman rose to his feet free. The porter's knife in his hand, he looked down on that unfortunate securely bound and gagged. Treading softly Winkleman stepped through the sleeping camp into the clear. He drew a deep breath. Then unconsciously wiping from his face the mixture of grease and ashes that had const.i.tuted his ”make-up,” he strode grimly away toward his own safari.

CHAPTER XXIX

WINKLEMAN'S SAFARI ARRIVES

The Leopard Woman watched the safari file down the distant hill and lose itself beneath the green plumes of the papyrus swamp. By all right she should have rejoiced. Against every probability she had succeeded.

The stars had worked for her. Though the prearranged plan had not carried in any of its details, nevertheless the sought-for result had been gained. She had herself done little to detain Kingozi; yet he had been detained; and here was Winkleman, belated but in time, to carry out triumphantly the wishes of the Imperial Government. But her heart was like lead.

After the first droop Kingozi had straightened beneath the blow, and now sat bolt upright, staring straight before him, as a king might have sat alone on his throne. Whatever was coming, he would front it serenely.

The head of the safari appeared at the foot of the slope. It seemed a trifle uncertain as to where to go next, but catching sight of Kingozi's tents, it turned up the hill. Cazi Moto's keen eyes were searching out every detail; those of the Leopard Woman had suddenly become suffused with tears.

”It is a rich safari, _bwana_,” Cazi Moto reported; ”many loads.” His voice sharpened with surprise, but he did not raise his tones. ”Simba is there,” said he.

”Simba! So they caught him,” muttered Kingozi. ”Well, that play failed.

Do you see the white man?” he asked.

”No, _bwana_. The white man has not yet come. But Simba now sees us, and is coming.”

”He is guarded?”

”No, _bwana_; he is alone.”

”_Jambo, bwana_,” said Simba's voice a moment later.