Kingozi sat down on the straw and blew out his lantern. The wattle walls were not chinked; so the sweet night wind blew through freely; and elusively he saw stars against the night. The Leopard Woman breathed heavily in little sighs. He was not sleepy. Then everything went black----
When Kingozi awakened it was full daylight. A varied murmur came happily from outside, what the Africans call a kalele--a compound of chatter, the noise of occupation, of movement, the inarticulate voice of human existence. He glanced across the hut. The Leopard Woman was gone.
"Boy!" he shouted.
At the sound of his voice the kalele ceased. Almost immediately Cazi Moto stooped to enter the doorway. Cazi Moto was dressed in clean khaki, and bore in his hand a balauri of steaming tea. Kingozi seized this and drained it to the bottom.
"That is good," he commented gratefully. "I did not expect to see you, Cazi Moto. Did all the men get in?"
"Yes, bwana."
"Vema! And the men of the Leopard Woman?"
"Many died, bwana; but many are here."
Kingozi arose to his feet.
"I must have food. These shenzis eat what?"