They were rowed across, for which Simba paid the canoe-man with a couple of arrows, having no other means of paying him. Then, following the right bank of the river for a few minutes, by fields of splendid corn, they came in sight of the village.
It was substantially built; and was constructed in the same manner as the Kwikuru of Olimali, except that the king’s quarters were flat-roofed tembes, surrounding a square of large dimensions, where the king kept his cattle and goats, and two or three donkeys, which were preserved more as curiosities than for any use that were made of them, and where he himself lived with his numerous family of women; for, strange to say, Katalambula, with all his wives, had never been able to obtain a son.
The principal gate was, as usual, decorated with the only trophies savages respect or regard, viz., glistening white skulls of their enemies.
When Simba and Moto arrived near the gate, the former’s gigantic height of body and breadth of shoulders soon attracted attention, and drew crowds towards him of curious gazers.
“Health unto you,” was his greeting to them.
“And unto you, strangers!” they replied. “Whence come you?” they then asked.
“We are travellers,” said Moto, “who have heard of King Katalambula, and have desired much to see Ututa’s king.” This was said in good Kirori, which, excepting a few words, is the same as Kituta.
“Your words are well, strangers. You are Warori?” a chief, who now made his presence known, asked them. “Though your garb is different, and the punctures on the cheek and forehead are wanting.”
“I am a Mrori,” answered Moto, “but my companion is not; he is a stranger from a far land.”
“Then do the Warori carry guns nowadays? And how is it that you wear such fine clothes?” he asked, regarding them suspiciously.