"How does bwana know how these things will happen thus?" breathed Simba in awestricken tones.
"It is a magic," replied Kingozi gravely.
Over and over he drilled them until the details were thoroughly understood. Then he dismissed them and leaned back with a sigh. The plan was simple, but ought to work. At the moment of making camp Winkleman would be less apt than at any other time to take with him an escort--especially if his interest or cupidity were aroused--for every one would be exceedingly busy. And no fear about the interest and cupidity! The "magic" bone Kingozi had confided to Simba was a fragment of a Pleistocene fossil. Kingozi himself valued it highly, but he hoped and expected to get it back. It made excellent bait, which no scientist could resist. Of course there might be a second white man with Winkleman, but from the reported size of the latter's safari he thought not. All in all, Kingozi had great reliance in his magic.
At the end of fifteen minutes Simba came to report.
"All is ready, bwana," he said, "and we start now. But if bwana could let me take a lantern, which I have in my hand, we could travel also at night."
The lantern, as Kingozi well knew, was not for the purpose of casting light in the path, but as some slight measure of protection against lions.
"Let me have it," he ordered. It was passed into his hands, and proved to be one of the two oil lanterns kept for emergencies.
But Kingozi sent the headman for one of the candle lanterns in everyday use, and a half-dozen short candles.
"These are better," he said; "and qua heri, Simba. If you do these things well, large backsheeshi for you all."
"Qua heri, bwana" said Simba, and was gone.