A half-hour's walk took the party to a second water-hole, the indications for which Simba had already noted on his little scouting tour. There they proceeded to make camp. The six porters began with their swordlike _pangas_ to cut poles and wattles, to peel off long strips of inner bark from the thorn trees which would serve as withes.

Then they began the construction of a _banda_, one of the quickly built little thatched sheds, open at both ends. At sight of this Winkleman swore deeply. He was fairly trapped, and knew it; but the _banda_ indicated that he was to be held prisoner in this one spot for at least some days. However, wise man in native ways, he said nothing and made no objection. But his keen wide eyes took in every detail.

When the _banda_ was finished and a big pile of the dried hay had been spread as a couch Simba approached respectfully but firmly, took _Bwana_ Nyele's helmet from his head, his spine-pad from his back, and his shoes from his feet. In this strategy Winkleman with reluctance admired the white man's hands. Without head and spine covering of some sort he could not travel a mile under the tropic sun; without foot covering or a light he would be helpless at night. Of course these things could be improvised; but not easily. He stretched himself on the hay and awaited events.

The men built a fire and gathered around it. They were cooking, but at the same time the two whom Winkleman recognized as leaders conferred earnestly and at great length. Had he been at their elbows he would have heard the following:

"The magic of this bone is a very great magic," Simba was saying. "All happened exactly as _Bwana_ Kingozi told us. Now is the fifth day.

There remain now nine days to wait until we must bring this _m'zungu_ to _Bwana_ Kingozi at the _manyatta_ of M'tela."

"It is indeed great magic," agreed Mali-ya-bwana. "How many days is the _manyatta?_"

"I do not know. These _shenzis_ should know; but they talk only monkey talk. Here, let us try." He drew one of the prisoners one side.

"M'tela," he enunciated slowly.

The savage nodded, and pointed the direction with his protruded lower lip.

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, p.r.o.nounced 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?"

Mali-ya-bwana leaned forward.

"It is this: If the bone has such great magic that thus we can take prisoner a mighty _bwana_ like this, surely it is powerful enough to fight also against safari men."

Simba pondered this.

"Every one knows that a white man is a great Lord," urged Mali-ya-bwana, "and that it is useless for the black man to fight against him. This is true always. Every man knows this."

"Black men have killed white men," Simba objected.

"Only when the numbers were many. Even then many more black men also have died, so that the painting for mourning went through many tribes.

Never before have men like us taken a white man thus easily."

"That is true."

"Then since this magic bone can subdue for us a great lord of a _m'zungu_, surely it will also subdue for us a safari of black men like ourselves, a safari that the _m'zungu_ has held in his hand."

"That is true."

"And that safari must have much _potio_"

"That also is true."

"Let you--or me, it does not matter--take the magic bone, and with it take also this safari and its _potio_."

"I will do it," a.s.sented Simba after a moment. "You will stay here to carry out the _bwana's_ orders."

CHAPTER XXVIII

SIMBA'S ADVENTURE

In the course of the evening Winkleman, conceiving that the right moment had come, set himself seriously to establishing a dominance over these members of an inferior race. He was a skilled man at this, none more so; nevertheless he failed. For in the persons of Simba and Mali-ya-bwana he was dealing not with natives, but with another white man as shrewd and experienced as himself. Kingozi had from the abundance of his knowledge foreseen exactly what methods and arguments the Bavarian would use, and in his final instructions he had dramatized almost exactly the scene that was now taking place. Simba had his replies ready made for him. When an unexpected argument caught him unaware, he merely fingered surrept.i.tiously his magic bone, and remained serenely silent. Winkleman might as well have talked at a stone wall. He soon recognized this, as also that the man had been coached minutely.

"Who is your _bwana?_" he asked at length.

"He is a very great _bwana_," Simba replied.

"His name?"

"He has many names among many people."

"What name do you call him?"

"I call him _bwana m'kubwa_ (great master)," replied Simba blandly.

Winkleman gave up this tack and tried another.

"What is his business? What does he do here?"

"His business is to fight."

"Ah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Winkleman. "To fight!"

"Yes. His business is to fight the elephant."

Winkleman swore. He could get at nothing this way. He must give his mind to escape.

Early the next morning Simba started. He took with him, of course, his magic bone; but, like a canny general, he carried also the rifle.

Mali-ya-bwana was left sufficiently armed by Winkleman's weapon and the sixteen cartridges captured on his person.