"This is an occasion," he said, "and the King's African Rifles cannot have it otherwise than that you become their guests. I see our camp is in preparation. We have nothing beyond the ordinary stores, but you must all dine with us." He paused, considering. "Say in an hour," he continued. "It must be early, for I do not doubt we must receive his royal highness this evening."

"You're right," said Kingozi, "and unless I miss my guess it will be an all-night job."

The travel-wearied men groaned.

"No help for it," said Captain Walsh cheerfully.

They pressed forward to shake the hands of this strange couple. The Leopard Woman carried herself with the ease and poise of one accustomed to receiving homage. She had drawn near Kingozi again, and managed to reach out and press his arm.

"Ye'll be married soon, I'm thinking," surmised McCloud.

"Depends," replied Kingozi, his brow darkening. "Part of it's up to you, you know," he added briefly. "A blind man is a poor man."

"We shall be married soon--now, if there is a priest among you!" cried the Leopard Woman vehemently, "As for poor man--pouf!" She turned to Walsh with an engaging smile. "And you, where you came, did you pa.s.s the people who live in the mountains back there, with a _sultani_ who dressed in black----"

"I know," supplemented Captain Walsh, "very well."

"The _sultani_ whose place has a fortified gate."

"Really? We did not get to his village; too much of a hurry."

The Leopard Woman shot a glance at Kingozi. He saw the triumph in it, and understood. The ivory stockade was unknown to any but themselves; still remained there in all its wealth awaiting the first trader. And that trader should be himself!

"Poor, indeed!" she whispered to him.

At this moment a roar of astonishment came up to them from down the slope. All turned to see Winkleman, the forgotten Winkleman, standing at the door of his tent. He was in pajamas, and his thick hair was tousled about.

"But how I have slept!" he cried, "and the English, they have come!

Well, well!" He came out, stretching his great arms lazily over his head. They stiffened in surprise as he caught sight of the Leopard Woman. For a second he stared; then dropped his arms with one of his big, gusty laughs.

"_Kolossal!_" he roared. "The Countess Miklos! I was wondering! So he has captured you, too, has he!"

With a simple and unembarra.s.sed gesture she laid her arm across Kingozi's shoulders.

"But yes," she repeated softly. "He has captured me, too."

At the tiny fire burning before the tent reserved for the headmen of the camp sat Simba, Cazi Moto, and Mali-ya-bwana. The bone of the _saurian_ lay before Simba, who was bragging.

"Great is the magic of this bone, which is mine. It has brought us a long journey; it has won us the friendship of the great chief; it has revealed to us much riches in the teeth of _tembo_, the elephant, though that must not be spoken aside from us three; it has restored the light to _Bwana_ Kingozi, our master; it has captured for us a great _bwana_ and a rich safari; it has brought to us _Bwana_ Bunduki[20] and many _bwanas_ and _askaris_; it has brought to our master a woman for his own--though to be sure there are many women. Great is this magic; and it is mine. With it I shall be lucky always."

[Footnote 20: The Master of the Rifle--Captain Walsh.]

"A-a-a-a!" agreed Cazi Moto and Mali-ya-bwana respectfully.

From the darkened mysterious forest the tree hyraxes, excited by the numerous fires and the voices of so large an encampment, were wailing and shrieking.

"The dead are restless tonight," said Simba, poking the fire.