In all this wide country were no settled habitations. Your African native requires hills or forests; he will not dwell on open plains at any great distance from his natural protection. A few people there were, hunters and nomads, living on wild honey and game. They were solitaries and lived where night found them, a little race, shyer than the game. For days and days they flanked the safari before venturing to approach. Then one would appear a hundred yards away and open shouted negotiations with the porters. Perhaps after a few hours he would venture into camp. Invariably Kingozi interrogated these people. They stood before him palpitating like birds, poised, tense for flight. He asked them of water, of people, of routes. By means of kind treatment and little presents he tried to gain their confidence. Sometimes thus he induced them to talk freely, but never did he succeed in persuading them to guide him. The mere fact of interrogation rendered them uneasy. Probably they could not themselves have understood that uneasiness; but invariably at nightfall they disappeared. They made fire by the rubbing of sticks, shot poisoned arrows at game.
From them Kingozi gained little but chatter. They knew accurately every permanent water, to be sure. This information, in view of the abundance of rain pools, was not at present valuable; nevertheless Kingozi questioned them minutely, and made many marks on the map he was preparing. Always he mentioned M'tela. At first he introduced the name at any time in the course of the interview; but soon he found that this dried up all information. So then he reserved that subject for the last. They were afraid of the very syllables. They spoke them under their breaths, with side glances. M'tela was a great lord; a lord of terror, to be feared.
At first the information was most vague. M'tela was over yonder--a long distance--who knows how far? He possessed more or less mythical characteristics, ranging from a height of forty or fifty feet down to the mere possession of a charm by which he could kill at a distance. Then, as the journey went on, the vagueness began to define. M'tela took form as a big man with a voice like the lion at night. His surroundings began to be described. He lived in the edge of a forest; his people were many; he had forty wives, and the like. Still it was far, very far. Kingozi concluded that none of these people had in person visited the Kabilagani, but were talking at second hand.
And finally direct information came to him--in the form of fear. M'tela was a great lord, a lord of many spears, his hand was heavy, he took what he desired, his warriors were fierce and cruel and could not be gainsaid. Told under the breath, with furtive glances to right and to left. And not far: a three days' journey. Kingozi translated this into terms of safari travel and made it about eight days. And, indeed, though no mountains as yet raised their peaks above the horizon, fleets of clouds setting sail from the distant ranges winged their way joyously down a growing wind.
The Leopard Woman fell ill and kept her tent. Kingozi waited two days, then sought her out. His patience over delay was about gone. The headaches to which physical exhaustions always made him subject had annoyed him greatly of late, had rendered him irritable. His eyes bothered him--a reflex from his run-down condition, he thought, combined with a slight inflammation due to the glare of sun or yellowing grass. Boracic acid helped very little. The halo he had noticed around the light that evening when they had first arrived at the sultani's village returned. He saw it about every campfire, every lantern flame, even around the brightest of the stars. Altogether he approached the interview in a strongly impatient mood.
The Leopard Woman lay abed beneath silken sheets. This was the first time Kingozi had ever seen sheets of any kind on any kind of a safari. In reality the Leopard Woman was an enticing, luring vision, but Kingozi, through the lenses of his mood, saw only the silkiness and "sheetiness" of those covers. He began to comprehend the numerous tin boxes.
"I'm going to leave you here and push on," he began abruptly. "You will be all right with the men I shall leave you. When you feel able to do so, follow on. I'll leave a plain trail."
She objected feebly; but immediately, seeing that this would not touch his mood, she asked him the reason of his haste.
"I'll tell you," he replied, "about a week distant is a chief named M'tela. Did you ever hear of him?"
"M'tela?" she repeated the name thoughtfully. "No--but I don't know much about native tribes."