For Winkleman was a big man in every way: tall, broad, thick, with a massive head, large features, and such a tremendous black beard! Well had he deserved his native name of Bwana Nyele--the master with the mane.
Simba awaited the moment of greatest confusion in the placing and pitching of the camp, and then advanced timidly, holding out the bone Kingozi had given him. His courage and faith were very low. They revived instantly as he saw the immediate effect. It was just as Kingozi had told him it would be; and as there was nothing on earth in a bit of dry bone that could accomplish such an effect except magic, Simba thenceforward went on with his adventure in completed confidence.
For at sight of the bone Bwana Nyele's eyes lit up, he uttered an astonishing bellow of delight, and sprang forward with such agility for so large a man that he almost succeeded in snatching the talisman from Simba's hands. Acting precisely on his instructions the latter backed away, pointing over the hill.
"Where did you get that?" Winkleman demanded.
Simba continued to point.
"Give it me."
Simba started away, still pointing. Winkleman followed a few steps.
"There is more?" he asked. "Do you speak Swahili?"
"Many more, bwana," Simba replied in the atrocious Swahili Kingozi had ordered. "Over there only a little distance."
Everything turned out as Kingozi had promised. Bwana Nyele asked several more questions, received no replies, finally bellowed: