He was greatly afraid there would be an uprising, and he felt sure that the Samburus would revolt. But in this he was mistaken. Negroes are given to revolt, and sometimes even for trivial reasons, but when overpowered by misfortune, and especially when the merciless hand of death weighs heavily on them, they yield without making any attempt at resistance. This applies not only to those whom Islam has taught that it is useless to struggle against fate, but to all without exception. Then neither fear nor the agony of their last moments can awaken them from their lethargy. This was the case now. As soon as the first excitement was over and the Wa-himas and the Samburus realized that they must eventually die, they lay down quietly on the ground to wait for death; therefore no rebellion was to be expected; on the contrary, it was doubtful if they would get up the following morning and be willing to continue the journey.
Stasch felt deeply sorry for them.
Kali returned before daybreak, and immediately placed in front of Stasch two torn bags, in which not a drop of water remained.
“Great Man,” he said, “Madi, apana!”
Stasch wiped his forehead, which was streaming with perspiration from fright and worry; then he asked:
“And M’Kunji and M’Pua?”
“M’Kunji and M’Pua are dead,” answered Kali.
“You have killed them?”
“Lion or wobo killed them!”
And he began to relate what had happened. They found the corpses of the two criminals at quite a distance from the camp, where they had been killed. They lay side by side; both had had their skulls crushed in from behind, their shoulders torn, and their backs eaten. Kali conjectured that a wobo or a lion had appeared before them in the moonlight and that they had fallen on their faces to beseech it to spare their lives. But the terrible beast had killed them both; then, having satisfied its appetite, it scented the water and tore the bags to pieces.