"They say no message, bwana."
"Take them and give them food, and see that they have a place in one of the tents."
"Yes, bwana."
"And send Bibi-ya-chui to me."
The Leopard Woman sent word that she was bathing, but would come shortly. Kingozi sat fingering the letter, which he could not read. It was long and thick. He could feel the embossed frank of the Government Office. The situation was puzzling. It might contain secret orders, in which case it would be inadvisable to allow the Leopard Woman a sight of its contents. But Kingozi shook off this thought. At about the time he felt the cool shadow of the earth rise across his face as the sun slipped below the horizon, he became aware also by the faint perfume that the Leopard Woman had come.
"I am in a fix," he said abruptly. "Runners have just come in with this letter. It is official, and may be secret. I am morally certain you ought not to know its contents; but I don't see how I am to know them unless you do. Will you read it to me, and will you give me your word not to use its contents for your own or your government's purposes?"
She hesitated.
"I cannot promise that."
"Well," he amended after a moment, "you will stick to the terms of your other promise--that you will not attempt to leave my safari or send messages until we arrive."
"The fresh, even start," she supplied. "That promise is given."