THE SONG OF THE GREAT OCCASION.
The news spread quickly that the "Great Man," his wife and some friends were coming north of the Zambesi to shoot. Williams, the Native Commissioner, heard it from the boy who looked after his fowls a full week before he received official warning from Headquarters.
How the chicken-boy heard of it remains a mystery. He who can tell you how news travels so rapidly in Africa can no doubt explain; but in answer to questioning, the boy replied: "People say so."
Thanks to this advance notice, Williams had time to make his plans at leisure. He had experience of native rumours of this kind, and, invariably acting upon them, gained a reputation for good organising.
No doubt the Sovereign's representative would want to shoot lion, buffalo, eland, sable, and, in addition, at least a specimen of each of the lesser inhabitants of the plain and forest. Well, he would do this and that and the other, and it would not be Williams's fault if a thoroughly representative bag were not made.
Like all sportsmen in official positions, living far from Headquarters and having a large district to control, Williams knew exactly where the game was most plentiful. He kept the information to himself as a general rule, for he well knew that if he did not do so his special reserves would soon cease to exist.
But for the direct representative of the King nothing was too good.
Williams made his plans, built a camp and awaited the arrival of his visitors.
Two days before the "Great Man" was due to arrive, old Garamapingwe, the musician, passed that way. He stopped to pay his respects to Williams.
"Good day, my father."