But the “Great Man’s” thoughts were miles away from killing the elephant, and as he had a very happy disposition, he replied while standing there:
“You’re a donkey.”
Unfortunately he had forgotten the word for “donkey” in the Ki-swahili language—so he used the English word “donkey” and Kali, who did not understand any English, concluded that this name was applied to him as a compliment or a reward, for the children soon saw him turn toward Mea and heard him bragging as follows:
“Mea has black skin and black head and Kali is a donkey.”
Then he continued, with pride:
“The Great Man himself said that Kali was a donkey.”
Stasch, after ordering them both to guard the young lady like the apple of their eye, and to call him at once should anything happen, grasped his rifle and started off toward the fallen rock that blocked up the gorge. When he reached the spot he examined everything very carefully, inspected all the cracks, put a twig into a crevice which he discovered in the lower part of the rock and measured its depth exactly, then he slowly returned to the camping place, opened his cartridge-case and began to count the cartridges.
Scarcely had he counted three hundred when from out of a tall baobab-tree near by, about five hundred feet from the tent, he heard Mea’s voice crying:
“Sir! Sir!”
Stasch approached the big tree, the hollowed-out trunk of which resembled a tomb, and asked: