"Have no fear, papa," replied M'tela easily. "I will cause the great drums to be beaten. My warriors are as the leaves of the grass; and these are few."
"Nevertheless they will kill many of yours," said Kingozi with great earnestness; "for they have guns that kill many times and at a long distance. When your warriors hear the great noise they make, and see the dead men, they will run." "You do not know the warriors of M'tela," replied the king with dignity. "Should the half of them fall, the other half will give these to the hyenas. Yes, even if they had the thunder itself as weapon!"
"How many are there, oh, King?" asked Kingozi, greatly relieved.
"My men report thirty-one white men and many black men."
"I go now," advised Kingozi, "to look upon these men. Give me guides, and a messenger to send back with news of what I find."
M'tela issued the orders. A moment later Kingozi started on. Winkleman, who had spoken no word, waved him a friendly good-bye. Before they had reached the forest edge the great war drums began to roar.
The guides took them swiftly down the forest path and across the rolling country with the groves. Kingozi looked at it all with curiosity and delight. It seemed to him that never in all his wanderings had he seen so beautiful and variegated a prospect. His blindness had overtaken him, it must be remembered, out on the open dry veldt, between the Great and the Little Rains. It was as though he had awakened from a sleep to find himself in this watered, green, and wooded paradise.
At the top of a hill the guide stopped and pointed. Kingozi gathered that through the distant cleft he indicated the strangers must come. All sat down and waited.
