"These shenzis are good?"--meaning friendly.
"Bwana, the sultani of these people is a great lord. He has many people, and much riches. He has told, his people to come with me. He prepares the guest house for you."
"Tired, Simba?"
"It has been a long path since sunup, bwana. But I had water, and the people gave me potio and meat. I am strong."
"Cazi Moto is back there--in the Thirst," suggested Kingozi, "and many others. And there is no water."
"I will go, bwana, and take the shenzis with me."
He set about gathering the water bottles and gourds that had not been emptied. Mali-ya-bwana and, unexpectedly, a big Kavirondo of Kingozi's safari, volunteered. The rest prepared to continue the journey.
But another delay occurred. The Leopard Woman, who had walked indomitably, now collapsed. Her eyes were sunken in her head, her lips had paled; only the long white oval of her face recalled her former splendid and exotic beauty. When the signal to proceed was given, she stepped forward as firmly as ever for perhaps a dozen paces, then her knees crumpled under her.
"I'm afraid I'm done," she muttered to Kingozi.
In the latter's eyes, for the first time, shone a real and ungrudging admiration. He knelt at her side and felt her pulse. Without hesitation, and in the most matter-of-fact way, he unbuttoned her blouse to the waist and tore apart the thin chemise beneath.