"Muhima," corrected the major, "Muhima for the individual. His people the Bahima are the aristocrats of the country! They've degenerated through mixing with the negroes, but I've no doubt they really are far-away descendants of the ancient Egyptians. Here he is!" added the major, as Mbutu was pushed into the tent by the orderly. "Well, my boy, don't be afraid of me; I'm your master's uncle. Just come and tell me all about it."
Mbutu told the story in his long-winded stumbling way, the major listening attentively, and helping him when he stuck for a word.
"Well now, did you hear those two men mention any place in the course of their talk?"
Mbutu thought for a moment.
"Imubinga, sah!" he said at last. "I know dat. Imubinga! Oh yes!"
"Imubinga! Corney, that's the place, you remember, where the guide said we should camp to-morrow; the inhabitants are likely to have a good supply of food, he said, and that's a blessing in such a sparsely-populated district. This begins to look more serious. I'll send scouts forward first thing in the morning to see if the guide's information is correct so far as it goes. Imubinga, you remember he told us, is in a plain on the far side of a range of hills, got at through a long defile of six miles or so. If that turns out correct, depend upon it this precious ambush will be laid somewhere about the end of the defile. Ambush, indeed! What do they take me for! Still, you never know; we'll be on the safe side."
"Hungry, boy?" asked the doctor, turning to Mbutu.
"No, sah," replied Mbutu promptly. "Berrah nice chicken in pot, sah. Big black soldier gib some. Oh yes!"
"Well," said the major with a smile, "you'll stay in my tent to-night, and understand you are not to go out without leave. The guide must not see you. Why, Corney, Tom's asleep. Did you doctor his wine, eh?"
"Just the least touch in his second glass. 'Twill do the boy good. Sure 'tis sleep he wants."