“The man is here, Excellence.” Zu Pfeiffer nodded.
“Forward, quick marrch,” commanded the sergeant in a muffled bark. “Halttt!”
“Very good, sergeant, you may wait.”
Schultz saluted and retired without. The tall powerfully built native in uniform stood as if he had a bayonet beneath his chin. There was a slight nervousness about the blues of the eyes as he squinted in the attempt to look straight ahead and to watch the Kommandant at the same time. One nostril was slit, [pg 71] in the lobes of the ears were three can keys, and the temples were tattooed with tribal scars.
“Corporal Inyira!” said zu Pfeiffer sharply. The black body twitched at the voice. “You are to leave to-morrow for Dar-es-salaam and you will take as a prisoner a white man who has been taking your tribe as slaves and selling them to the Abyssinians. The Bwana Mkubwa protects you from these evil white men and Arabs. You know that?” sharply.
“Bwana!”
“Very good. You know what would happen to you if you were sold as a slave? You have had many brothers who have been sold to the Abyssinians?”
“Bwana! Many, Bwana!”
“Very good. Now listen! This white man is very bad. He leaves with you to-morrow morning for Dar-es-salaam, but—he is never to arrive there. I give him to you. You may do what you like with him, but never let me see him again. You have my protection. Understand?”
“Bwana!”