Simba indicated the sun, and swept his hand across the arc of the heavens. Then he looked inquiringly at the other and held up in rapid success first one, then two, then three fingers. The savage was puzzled. Simba went through the movements of a man walking, pronounced the name of M'tela, pointed out the direction, and then repeated his previous pantomime. A light broke on the shenzi. He held up four fingers.
Simba next called to Mali-ya-bwana to interrogate the other prisoner apart. As the latter also reported M'tela four days distant--when he understood--this was accepted as the truth.
"Then we remain in camp five days," they concluded, after working out the subtraction.
"But," intervened one of the porters, "we have no more potio."
"I have the bwana's gun," Simba pointed out, "and also the gun of this m'zungu. There is here plenty of game."
"To eat meat always is not well," grumbled the porter.
"To eat kiboko (whip) is always possible," replied Simba grimly.
"Nevertheless," said Mali-ya-bwana, who as co-leader was privileged to more open speech, "potio and meat are better than meat only."
Simba looked at him inquiringly.
"You have a thought?"