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"Simba!" he called.
"Yes, suh!"
"Take one man. Collect all water bottles. Take a lantern. Go as rapidly as you can to find water. Fill all the bottles and bring them back.
There are people in the hills. There will be people near the water. Get them to help you carry back the water bottles."
Simba selected Mali-ya-bwana to accompany him, but this did not meet Kingozi's ideas.
"I want that man," said he.
Simba and one of the other leading porters started away. Kingozi gave his attention to the members of the other safari.
They sat and sprawled in all att.i.tudes. But one thing was common to all: a dead sullenness.
"Why do you not obey the _memsahib?_" Kingozi asked in a reasonable tone.
No one answered for some time. Finally the man who had been shot at replied.
"There is no water. We are very tired. We cannot go on without water."
"How can you get water if you do not go on?"
"_Hapana shauri yangu_," replied the man indifferently, uttering the fatalistic phrase that rises to the lips of the savage African almost automatically, unless his personal loyalty has been won--"that is not my affair." He brooded on the ground for a s.p.a.ce then looked up. "It is the business of porters to carry loads; it is the business of the white man to take care of the porters." And in that he voiced the philosophy of this human relation. The porters had done their job: not one inch beyond it would they go. The white woman had brought them here: it was now her _shauri_ to get them out.
"You see!" cried the Leopard Woman bitterly. "What can you do with such idiots!"
Kingozi directed toward her his slow smile.
"Yes, I see. Do you remember I asked you once when you were boasting your efficiency, whether you had ever tried your men? Your work was done smartly and well--better than my work was done. But my men will help me in a fix, and yours will not."
"You are quite a preacher," she rejoined. "And you are exasperating.
Why don't you do something?"
"I am going to," replied Kingozi calmly.
He called Mali-ya-bwana to him.
"Talk to these _shenzis_," said he.
Mali-ya-bwana talked. His speech was not eloquent, nor did it flatter the Leopard Woman, but it was to the point.
"My _bwana_ is a great lord," said he. "He is master of all things. He fights the lion, he fights the elephant. Nothing causes him to be afraid. He is not foolish, like a woman. He knows the water, the sun, the wind. When he speaks it is wisdom. Those who do what he says follow wisdom. _Ba.s.si!_"
Immediately this admonition was finished Kingozi issued his first command:
"Bring all loads to this place."
n.o.body stirred at first.
"My loads, the loads of Bibi-ya-chui--all to this place."
Mali-ya-bwana and the other fourteen of Kingozi's safari who were now present brought their loads up and began to pile them under Kingozi's direction.
"Quickly!" called Kingozi in brisk, cheerful tones. "The water is not far, but the day is nearly gone. We must march quickly, even without loads."
The import of the command began to reach the other porters. This white man did not intend to camp here then--where there was no water! He did not mean to make them march with loads! He knew! He was a great lord, and wise, as Mali-ya-bwana had said! One or two arose wearily and stiffly, and dragged their loads to the pile. Others followed.
Kingozi's men helped the weakest. Kingozi himself worked hard, arranging the loads, covering them with tarpaulins, weighting the edges.
His intention reached also the Leopard Woman. She watched proceedings without comment for some time. Then she saw something that raised her objection.
"I shall want that box," she announced. "Leave that one out. And that is my tent being brought up now."
Apparently Kingozi did not hear her. He bestowed the box in a s.p.a.ce left for it, and piled the two tent loads atop. The Leopard Woman arose and glided to his side.
"That box----" she began.
"I heard you," replied Kingozi politely, "but it will really be impossible to carry anything at all."
"That box is indispensable to me," she insisted haughtily.
"You have no men strong enough to carry a load: and mine will need all the strength they have left before they get in."
He went on arranging the loads under the tarpaulins.
"Those loads are my tent," she said, as Kingozi turned away.
"We cannot take them."
Her eyes flashed. She whirled with the evident intention of issuing her commands direct. Kingozi's weary, slow indifference fell from him. In one bound he faced her, his chin thrust forward. His blue eyes had focussed into a cold, level stare.
"Don't dare interfere!" he ordered. "If you attempt it, I shall order you restrained--physically. Understand? I do not know how far you intend to travel--or where; but if you value your future authority and prestige with your own men, do not make yourself a spectacle before them."
"You would not dare!" she panted.
The tenseness relaxed. Kingozi became again the slow-moving, slouching, indifferent figure of his everyday habit.
"Oh, I can dare almost anything--when I have to. You do not seem to understand. You have come a cropper--a bad one. Left to yourselves you are all going to die here. If I am to help you to your feet, I must do it without interference. I think we shall get through: but I am not at all certain. Go and sit down and save your strength."
"I hate you!" she flashed. "I'd rather die here than accept your help!
I command you to leave me!"
"Bless you!" said Kingozi, as though this were a new thought. "I wasn't thinking especially of _you_; I am sorry for your boys."
Mali-ya-bwana, under his directions, had undone the loads containing the lanterns. Everything seemed now ready for the start. All of Kingozi's safari had arrived except Cazi Moto and five men.
"Have you any water left?" Kingozi asked the Leopard Woman.
She stared straight ahead of her, refusing to answer. Unperturbed, Kingozi turned to the Nubian.