"What magnificence!" she replied. "The thought is great--a palace of ivory! This is kingly!"
But the light had died in Kingozi's eyes. "Won't do!" he muttered to her. "Compose your face. Come."
Without another glance at the magnificent tusks he marched on through the open gate.
Other drums, many drums, were roaring all about. The cliff of the cañon was filled with sound that buffeted back and forth until it seemed that it must rise above the hills and overflow the world. A chattering and hurrying of people could be heard as an undertone.
The small enclosure was occupied by a dozen of the plumed warriors who had now snatched up emblazoned shield and polished spear; and stood rigidly at attention. Women of all ages crouched and squatted against the fence and the sides of a large wattle and thatch building.
Kingozi walked deliberately about, looking with detached interest at the various people and objects the corral contained. He had very much the air of a man sauntering idly about a museum, with all the time in the world on his hands, and nowhere much to go. Simba and Cazi Moto remained near the gate. The Leopard Woman, not knowing what else to do, trailed after him.
This continued for some time. At last her impatience overcame her.
"I suppose I may talk," said she resentfully. "How much longer must this go on? Why do not you make your call and have it over?"
Kingozi laughed.
"You do not know this game. Inside old Stick-in-the mud is waiting in all his grandeur. He expects me to go in to him. I am going to wait until he comes out to me. Prestige again."