“True,” answered Moto, “when he is double his age he will shoot four one after another. Selim is a great hunter truly. I wonder what the Watuta have done. Whisht! hear their cries! Their elephant is dead. We must go to see them. Or do thou stop with Selim to watch these whilst I go to tell them what our young master has done. Say, Simba, how much money would the ivory of these three elephants bring at Zanzibar, dost thou think?”
“I know not. How many frasilah dost thou think there are in the three?” asked Simba.
“Somewhere about twelve, I should say? Twelve frasilah of ivory at 50 dollars the frasilah (35 pounds) would make how much?” asked Moto.
“I don’t know—plenty, I suppose,” said Simba; “but Selim knows.”
“Twelve fifties will make 600—six hundred dollars,” answered Selim.
“Six hundred dollars! What a pity we cannot carry it to Zanzibar!” said Moto. “I shall be back directly.”
Moto bounded away lightly towards the pool, and in a short time in the middle of the plain beyond he saw the Watuta in a group cutting and slashing at the dead elephant, with noise and excitement enough to frighten every elephant for miles around.
When he approached, the Watuta gathered about him, and Kalulu pointed exultantly at the dead beast into which he had driven the first spear, and Kalulu then asked what luck they had had.
Moto answered: “Selim has killed two, and I have killed one.”
“Selim killed two!” echoed Kalulu, with surprise. “What! little Selim my brother?”