The Leopard Woman | Page 9

then not far enough to touch the
cup of the sky. Elsewhere the heavens meet the horizon: in Africa they
lie beyond it, so that when the round, fleecy clouds of the Little Rains
sail down the wind there is always a fleet of them beyond the earth
disappearing into the immensities of the infinite. There is space in
African skies beyond the experience of those who have dwelt only in
other lands. They dwarf the earth; and the plains and mountains, lying
in weeks' journeys spread before the eye, dwarf all living things, so that
at the last the man of imagination here becomes a humble creature.

For an hour the two remained on top the kopje. The details of the
unknown country ahead, toward which Kingozi gave his attention, were
simple. From the green line of the watercourse, near which the camp
showed white and tiny, the veldt swept away for miles almost unbroken.
Here and there were tiny parklike openings of clear grass; here and
there more kopjes standing isolated and alone, like fortresses. Far down
over the edge of the world showed dim and blue the tops of a short
range of mountains. Vainly did Kingozi sweep his glasses over the
landscape in hope of another line of green. No watercourse was visible.
On the other hand, the scattered growth of thorn trees showed no signs
of thickening to the dense spiky jungle that is one of the terrors of
African travel. There might be a watercourse hidden in the folds of the
earth; there might be a rainwater "tank," or a spring, on any of the
kopjes. Simba and Cazi Moto were both experienced, and capable of a
long round trip. The problem of days' journeys was not pressing at this
moment. Kingozi noted the compass bearings of all the kopjes; took
back sights in the direction from which he had come; closed his
compass; and began idly to sweep the country with his glasses. In an
unwonted mood of expansion he turned to Mali-ya-bwana.
"We go there," he told the porter, indicating the blue mountain-tops.
"It is far," Mali-ya-bwana replied.
Kingozi continued to look through his glasses. Suddenly he stopped
them on an open plain three or four miles back in the direction from
which he had come the day before. Mali-ya-bwana followed his gaze.
"A safari, bwana," he observed, unmoved. "A very large safari," he
amended, after a moment.
Through his prismatic glasses Kingozi could see every detail plainly.
After his fashion of talking aloud, he reported what he saw, partly to
the black man at his side, but mostly to himself.
"Askaris,"[3] he said, "six of them. The man rides in a
_machele_[4]--he is either a German or a Portuguese; only those people
use _macheles_-- unless he is sick! Many porters--four are no more

white men. More _askaris!_" He smiled a little contemptuously under
his beard. "This is a great safari, Mali-ya-bwana. Four tin boxes and
twelve askaris to guard them; and eighty or more porters; and sixteen
men just to carry the _machele!_ This must be a _Bwana M' Kubwa_."
[Footnote 3: Native troops, armed with Snider muskets.]
[Footnote 4: A hammock slung on a long pole, and carried by four men
at each end.]
"That is what Kavirondos might think," replied Mali-ya-bwana calmly.
Kingozi looked up at him with a new curiosity.
"But not yourself?"
"A man who is a _Bwana M'kubwa_ does not have to be carried. He
does not need askaris to guard him in this country. And where can he
get potio for so many?"
"Hullo!" cried Kingozi, surprised. "This is not porter's talk; this is
headman's talk!"
"In my own country I am headman of many people," replied
Mali-ya-bwana with a flash of pride.
"Yet you carry my tent load."
But Mali-ya-bwana made no reply, fixing his fierce eyes on the distant
crawling safari.
"It must be a sportsman's safari," said Kingozi, this time to himself,
"though what a sportsman wants in this back-of-beyond is a fair
conundrum. Probably one of these chappies with more money than
sense: wants to go somewhere nobody else has been, and can't go there
without his caviare and his changes of clothes, and about eight
guns--not to speak of a Complete Sportsman's Outfit as advertised
exclusively by some Cockney Tom Fool on Haymarket."

He contemplated a problem frowningly. "Whoever it is will be a
nuisance--a damn nuisance!" he concluded.
"_N'dio, bwana_," came Mali-ya-bwana's cheerful response to this
speech in a language strange to him.
"You have asked a true question," Kingozi shifted to Swahili. "Where
is potio to be had for so large a safari? Trouble--much trouble!" He
arose from the flat stone. "We will go and talk with this safari."
At an angle calculated to intercept the caravan, Kingozi set off down