"It is odd, however, how fond I am of this little fly! To tell the truth, I always liked her, but now more and more."
And not knowing how to explain such a strange symptom he came to the following conclusion:
"It is because we have passed together through so much and because she is under my protection."
In the meantime he held that "fly" very carefully with his right hand around her waist in order that she should not slip from the saddle and bruise her little nose. They advanced slowly in silence; only Kali hummed under his nose—a song in praise of Stas.
"Great master kills Gebhr, kills a lion and a buffalo! Yah! Yah! Much meat! Much meat! Yah! Yah!"
"Kali," Stas asked in a low tone, "do the Wahimas hunt lions?"
"The Wahimas fear lions but the Wahimas dig pits and if in the night time the lion falls in, then the Wahimas laugh."
"What do you then do?"
"The Wahimas hurl lot of spears until lion is like a hedgehog. Then they pull him out of the pit and eat him. Lion is good." And according to his habit, he stroked his stomach.
Stas did not like this method of hunting; so he began to ask what other game there was in the Wahima country and they conversed further about antelopes, ostriches, giraffes, and rhinoceroses until the roar of a waterfall reached them.