Jan Botha willingly agreed to ride over early in the morning, and set them right at the Masai village, a dozen miles away, where he was well known. So Charlie and Jack found themselves up before the dawn with the rest of the family, eating breakfast by lamplight, and with the first light of dawn they were on horseback, shivering in the chill morning air.
An hour after sunrise they reached the village, a collection of grass huts beside a river in the hills. Charlie was a little surprised to find that the Masai were stalwart, eager-faced warriors, well dressed in blankets or cotton cloth draped from the shoulder, and bearing spears, bows, and black-and-white shields of hide.
"I wonder if they are really a branch of the Zulus?" asked Jack while Botha was talking with the headman.
"Hardly," said Schoverling. "But no doubt they are distantly connected. Perhaps they are some of the Zulus driven north by the great king Tchaka, a hundred years ago. They are extremely fierce warriors, and highly respected by the other natives. With a score of those fellows for bodyguard, we'll get along finely."
Bakari proved to be the name of an English-speaking Masai who was put in charge of twenty-five men and hired to accompany the expedition as far as Mount Kenia, or beyond. As the Masai eat nothing but meat, foraging for vegetables would be an easy matter, Charlie concluded.
They reached the Botha farmhouse about nine, the warriors loping easily behind them. An hour later, almost to the minute, the wagons topped a rise and Gholab Singh drew up and saluted. As there was no use in delay, they all bade the hospitable Boers farewell, and pushed on straight for Kenia.