“Very glad know you,” greeted the native. He was a man of considerable importance in the country about Mbarara, and had picked up several languages, all of which he spoke well.
The chums exchanged the greeting and then made ready for anything that would be said.
“You gon’ org’ize another safari?” Migo asked the naturalists.
“Yes,” returned Mr. Lewis. “And we want you to help us find bearers. Will you do it?”
The answer came at once.
“I will,” the native said. “How many will you need?”
“We have come to the conclusion that twenty-five will satisfy our needs, at least for a while,” responded Mr. Holton. “If we need more we can pick them up at villages along the way. By the way, Migo,” he went on, struck with a sudden thought, “is it possible to get the guide we had last time? Kaika was his name. Knew every inch of ground for miles around.”
Migo’s face darkened. He shook his head slowly.
“Him not here any more,” he said in grave tones.
“Why—I don’t understand,” came from Mr. Lewis. “Where is Kaika?”