"The chief will not take her in, being afraid."
"Afraid?" Sanders spluttered in his wrath; "Afraid? What is he afraid of?"
"Her devilry," said the sergeant; "the lo-koli has told him the story of Tebeki, and he will not have her."
Sanders swore volubly for five minutes; then he went off to interview the chief of the village.
The interview was short and to the point. Sanders knew this native very well, and made no mistakes.
"Chief," he said at the end of the palaver, "two things I may do; one is to punish you for your disobedience, and the other is to go on my way."
"Master," said the other earnestly, "if you give my village to the fire, yet I would not take the woman M'Lino."
"So much I realise," said Sanders; "therefore I will go on my way."
He marched at dawn on the following day, the woman a little ahead of the column, and under his eye. Halting for a "chop" and rest at mid-day, a man of the Houssas came to him and said there was a dead man hanging from a tree in the wood. Sanders went immediately with the man to the place of the hanging, for he was responsible for the peace of the district.
"Where?" he asked, and the man pointed to a straight gum-tree that stood by itself in a clearing.