“And so shall I, Selim,” said Abdullah. “Thou and I shall often talk of him as one to whom there was no equal in worth. When we meet our mothers, we shall remember his name as one without whom they never would have seen us again, and our mothers shall bless him. His memory shall be to me like a plant nightly watered by the dew of heaven, never to die, and whenever I hear his name mentioned I will pray that I may be like him. For Kalulu’s sake, all black people who call me master shall be well treated, and shall never be abused.” As he said these words, little Abdullah wept copiously, as the worth of his friend rose so vividly before him.
“And I make a vow,” said Selim, “for my brother’s sake, never to purchase a slave for my service while I live; and when I die my slaves shall all be free. No black man in my service shall have cause to regret that I met with Kalulu in Africa; but they shall rejoice, and know that their treatment is due to Kalulu alone, that they may sing his praises under my palms and mangoes.”
“Allah be with ye both!” cried Simba. “If all Arabs were like ye, the Arab name would become beloved throughout all the tribes of the Washensi.” (Pagans.)
“Ay, so it would,” said Moto; “so it would; and the people of our race and colour would not be bought like sheep and goats, and driven with sticks to the market to be sold. A great wrong is done by the Arabs every day in this country, and it is no wonder that the tribes treat them badly when they can. Tifum treated Masters Selim and Abdullah cruelly, because he heard that they did the some to the black people. We, thou, and I, Simba, should not have been so good as we are had any other than Sheikh Amer bin Osman been our master.”
“I believe thee, Moto,” replied Simba. “We would not be going back to Zanzibar either, if noble Amer’s son was other than he is. Master Selim is the best Arab living. Prince Madjid’s sons are worthless, compared to my young master. But let us go to Unyanyembe, before some evil overtakes Selim and Abdullah, and we have no hope of pleasure left to us more.”
Moto started at the suggestion of evil to his young master, and at once put his best foot forward, until they came to a plain, where he strove to obtain an additional supply of meat, and was so successful with his arrows, that he brought down a zebra.
The march to Unyanyembe lasted fifteen days longer, owing to the lack of the cheery presence of Kalulu, and to the frequent stoppages they had to make to procure food, and to nourish their strength; but on the morning of the sixteenth day, the well-known features of the hills around the Arab settlements greeted the eyes of Moto and Simba, who had seen them before. To their left rose the table hill of Zimbili, at their base were the Arab houses of Maroro, and stretching nearer to them, was the fertile basin of Kwihara; and soon rose before them the Arab houses of Sayd bin Salim, Abdullah bin Sayd, Sheikh Nasib, and of the redoubtable Kisesa. But passing by these, and walking rapidly along a road which led through Kisiwani, and between two hills which separate Kwihara from the larger settlement of the Arabs, the great tembes of Tabora greeted them, each surrounded by plantains and pomegranate trees.
Upon asking some of the people who were passing from Tabora to Kwihara—and who stared at Selim and Abdullah as if they had never seen Arabs before—who lived at Tabora, they were given a long list of names, and among these was the name of Sultan bin Ali!
“Where does he live?” asked Selim.
“Yonder, by that big tree. The first tembe ye come to.”