Chapter Ten.

Chapter Ten.The burial Song—Kalulu becomes King—Long live King Kalulu—Kalulu’s Oration—Selim asks permission to depart—The dissatisfied Minority—Ferodia’s Ambition—Tifum the Wicked, and his Advice—Ferodia visits Kalulu—The treacherous Guests.After a march of two weeks without a single incident, they arrived at Katalambula’s village, to hear the sad news that the King had died the day before, and that everybody was mourning for him.This was a great shock for Kalulu, for the King had loved him dearly, and the young chief bore him great affection in return.When at first the news was conveyed to him, he seemed to be suddenly stricken dumb, his face assumed a livid hue, and he trembled all over. Then, giving vent to his sorrows in a long, sad cry of sorrow, he hastened to the King’s house, where the doctors were found attending the corpse, and at once threw himself on the body, uttering the most doleful lamentations, crying, “Awake, thou King! thou chief of the Watuta, awake! Behold me, thy son, Kalulu, returned from the chase! Open thine ears, O Katalambula! Listen to the voice of thy son! Open thy eyes, O Katalambula! stretch out thine hand, and feel the form of him thou didst so love! Speak, Katalambula! Say, whither hast thou gone, that thy voice may no longer be heard, nor thy ears may longer hear Kalulu’s Voice? Kalulu, the child of thy brother Mostana, calls unto thee! Come out with me, O Katalambula! Come out under the tree! come and tell Kalulu of thy prowess when thou wert young! Ah! Katalambula, I shall die if thou wilt not wake up!” and thus he kept calling on the dead, until he found his cries and tears were of no avail. He rose then, and went to his hut, and closed the door, and on his rugged bed, his tears flowed silently and swiftly, until it seemed as if his soul would melt in tears.When near sunset, the grave being ready, under a hut erected over it at the corner of the square, and the ceremony of burial was about to begin, Kalulu came out of his hut to do honour to the body of Katalambula. All the Wa-mganga (Wa-mganga—plural of mganga—magic doctors) from the neighbouring villages were gathered together; all the elders, the councillors, and principal men of the tribe were assembled, until the great square of the capital was crowded with warriors, women, and children. In order that the ceremony might be allowed to proceed in due form, they had arranged themselves around a large circle, having the great tree for its centre. In this circle were assembled the doctors of magio and the chief mourners, and near them were the fattest, finest bulls that could be procured, black in colour and without a single blemish, which were to be killed over Katalambula’s grave; near by, also, were enormous earthenware pots of pombe (beer) and plaintain wine, which were to be poured over the grave as a libation to his manes.The drummers were in their places, the wa-mganga (doctors) were ready, painted and striped with white chalk all over, with the gourds, half-filled with pebbles, in their hands; and the chant began.The author, in order to do something like justice to the pathetic death-song of the King, finds himself compelled to give as literal a translation as possible. The tune was most mournful, the chorus most pathetic, being drawn out into a long, sweet-toned wail; and the voices of the women and children, mingling with the deeper voices of the warriors, were effectively impressive:The son of Loralamba,The conqueror of Uwemba,The Sultan of Liemba,Is dead!The brother of Mostana,The wisest Manyapara,The King of the Watuta,Is dead!Chorus. Is dead!Oh, he is dead!He who fought Wa-marungu,The great lord of Kwikuru,The wise son of Malungu,Is dead!He who slew Tamaniro,Chief of the Wukhokoro,By the river Amhenuro,Is dead!Chorus. Is dead!Oh, he is dead!Who triumph’d o’er Kansala,Near the Mount Araboella,In the land of Kinyala,Is dead!Chorus. Is dead!Oh, he is dead!The uncle of Kalulu,The sire of KoraniluAnd pretty Imamulu,Is dead!He who married Lamoli,The daughter of Soltali,By the woman Zimbili,Is dead!Chorus. Is dead!Oh, he is dead!The lord of Mohilizi,And the land from BonziTo the River Zambezi,Is dead!The bravest, wisest Mwenni,Of the tribe of Meroeni,The dauntless Simbamwenni,Is dead!Chorus. Is dead!Oh, he is dead!He was fear’d by Wagala,By the fierce Wazavila,Was great Katalambula,Who is dead!But the mighty Mtuta,Bravest of the Watuta,The Sultan of Ututa,Is dead!Chorus. He is dead!Oh, he is dead!Ah! the King we did adore,We shall see his face no more,And our hearts are sad and sore,For he is dead!Kindest, best, and wisest King,On thy head the dust we fling,And in sorrow do we sing.Our lord is dead!Chorus. Our lord is dead!Alas! our lord is dead!O King! why didst thou thus die?Deep in the grave thou must lie,While we will for ever cry,Our chief is dead!O’er him pour libative wine,O’er him slay the fattest kine,O’er him make the magic sign,For our King is dead!Chorus. For our King is dead!Alas! our King is dead!When the chant was ended, the body was laid on a long, broad piece of stiff bark, and four wa-mganga (doctors) carried it to the grave, where it was laid on the right side, with the King’s shield, spears, bow, and quiver of arrows. A pot, full of millet-flour, mixed with water was placed, closely covered, by the head, and the stiff piece of bark, which served to convey the body to the grave, was placed over the body; then the plaintain wine was poured over this, the black bulls were brought up and slaughtered, the blood pouring into the grave; then the earth was scraped in and stamped close and hard; and, finally, ten potfuls of pombe were poured over the grave, and the ceremony was over.Then the elders, the councillors, and the doctors gathered together under the great tree, and began to discuss the question who should be King. A large number proposed that Ferodia should be sent for, as he was a relative of the King; but the majority, though small, were for Kalulu, who, not only was nephew of Katalambula, but adopted son, and the choice of the old King. Besides, Kalulu was a brave lad, and would in time be a greater warrior than Ferodia, perhaps greater than Katalambula, and the equal of Loralamba. His youth was full of promise, and he had already won everybody’s regard for his amiability and good heart, said they. Whereupon the discussion grew fierce; those for Ferodia threatened to leave Katalambula’s tribe and go over to him, and would return with spear and sword to cut Kalulu’s head off. Finally, when all this was at its greatest height, and wordy dissension came near ending in bloodshed, Soltali rose, and, by his eloquence, succeeded in calming the turbulent and winning over to Kalulu’s side several of the adherents of Ferodia, until there remained but a email, contumacious minority for the latter.While the majority waited for the messengers sent to inform Kalulu of the honour conferred on him, the minority rose and departed out of the village, muttering threats, and promising to return with Ferodia, who would punish all with a terrible vengeance.Kalulu received the deputation, and when told its mission, rose at once and followed them to Soltali. This old man—the principal magic doctor of the tribe—was not only one of the chief councillors, or chief manyapara—to give the technical Kituta term—but had also had the honour of having Katalambula for his son-in-law, as the King had taken his daughter Lamoli for wife, and Moto’s wife, Lamoli, was granddaughter to Soltali. But, aside from this relationship to Kalulu, the old man dearly loved the amiable prince, and rejoiced that he was now permitted to inform Kalulu that he was elected King.Some of thedowa, or uganga (the millet-flour mixed with water, a most potent medicine or charm), was placed near Soltali, and as Kalulu stood before them in the now bright moonlight, graceful as a dusky Ganymede, the magic doctor rose, while the elders and councillors sat around, and, taking some of the potent medicine in his hand, he touched the boy’s forehead, each cheek, nose, mouth, and chin, crying in a loud voice: “Be thou King! Be thou brave! Be thou strong! Be thou good! And let all thy enemies run before thee!”In succession each elder rose, dipped his hand in the medicine, and touched Kalulu’s forehead with it, saying, “Be thou King! Be thou brave! Be thou strong! Be thou good! and let all thy enemies run before thee!”Then the warriors were summoned by the drums to the square, and all the women and children gathered also, and old Soltali, the high priest and magic doctor, sang to them the new King’s good qualities, his birth, his troubles, his arrival at Katalambula’s village, the joy of the old King; how Kalulu became henceforth as his son to him; and how Katalambula had solemnly sworn that Kalulu was his choice for his successor to him, Soltali; what Kalulu had already done towards winning fame; ending with a solemn injunction to all that they should honour and serve Kalulu as they had served his father, so that the glory of the Watuta would become known to all nations, and their bravery be sung in all the corners of the earth.N.B.—The author extracts such portions of the chant as he deems most interesting; but refuses positively to disfigure any more of his chapters with the uncouth Kituta polysyllables; and refuses, furthermore, to touch upon such ceremonies as have verse or chorus in them, however interesting they may be; for he finds his patience sadly exhausted with being compelled continually to render into barbarous rhyme words which grate on his sensitive ears:The hero and lion chief, Loralamba,King of Liemba and the streamy Wemba,Lord of all the pasture lands of broad UsangoFrom West Urori to far Ukonongo,Whom the unnumber’d tribes of Tuta and Sowa,From hilly Lobisa to the lake-land Itawa,Obey’d without scruple, him who in each campaignHad slain his foes by hundreds on each hill and plain,When dying, bequeathed his youngest son MostanaThe lands of Rori from Wiwa to Kantana,While to his eldest son, our King, Katalambula,He gave all wide Ututa, including Kinyala.Our King died heirless, but in Rori’s KwikuruHis brother Mostana was blest with Kalulu.When, years ago, the Arabs fell ’pon Kantana,Destroyed Kwikuru, and slew brave Mostana,Young Kalulu came, and sought his father’s brother,And in our King, his uncle, he found a father.Ye recall the day when the King this orphan met;How on his head our King’s infirmed hands were set;How fondly he clasp’d the youth to his aged breast.And, in endearing accents, bade him there find rest.Ye know what delight this boy has since to him been,And the King’s paternal love ye have also seen.Oft have ye heard the King make mention of his name,As one born to win a hero’s long-enduring fame.’Tis needless to rehearse the deeds already doneBy the stout arm of dead Mostana’s princely son;They are known to all the Watuta tribes around,And all our most ambitious youths his praises sound.Morula, King of Ubena, fell by his hand,So died the false and cruel chief of Bemba land.The rebel Bongo, tribal chief on Chuma plain,Fell by Kalulu’s spear, was by Kalulu slain.When the Arab boy sank in the deep waters brown,Gripped by the greedy crocodile, and sank deep down,Who div’d to rescue him? Who but young Kalulu?Who but the noblest, bravest son of Malungu!The King swore to me, - the Mganga Soltali,I, - who to him wedded my daughter Lamoli,“None shall rule as King over Tuta’s KwikuruBut brave Mostana’s son, my princely Kalulu!”Now in council, your priests and elders do maintainThat o’er the Tuta tribes none may aspire to reignSave brave Mostana’s son, and the choice of Malungu.We now proclaim him King. Long live King Kalulu!The warriors gave a great shout, the drums thundered, and all the warriors, the women, the children, the doctors, the councillors, and elders cried “Long live King Kalulu!”When silence prevailed, Kalulu stood up before the people, and while the body swayed and the hands made gestures, according as his emotions governed him, the young King might, by a stretch of fancy, have been taken for a demi-god visiting a favoured people, teaching them the ways of the wise, and urging them to abandon savage habits. While all listened intently and admiringly, the elected chief spoke as follows:—“Warriors of the Watuta, and ye elders and councillors! Ye have elected me King, because I, the son of Mostana, was beloved by Katalambula, and because he, being heirless, said to Soltali, ‘Since I have no son, Kalulu shall reign in my stead, when I am laid in the ground.’ Katalambula has gone to his fathers; he was old, he was weighed down with the burden of years, and loaded with honours; he is no more; the cruel earth covers him. The King is dead, but ye have chosen me to fill his place. I am young, I have not seen many moons, and I am not yet a full warrior. How, then, shall I fill Katalambula’s place? I will tell you. Katalambula was good; he loved the good and hated the wrong. So do I love the good and hate wrong. Katalambula was just. As Katalambula was just, so shall I be. When Katalambula was young, he was strong, he was brave, he was a lion in war. When I shall be a full warrior, I shall be strong, I shall be brave, I shall be a lion in war. Katalambula was wise. Ah! I am young, I am not wise; but I have Soltali, Katalambula’s friend, with me. I have the same elders, the councillors, and the magic doctors; their wisdom they will give me when trouble comes, and by their wisdom shall I be wise. There is peace in the land to-day; the Watuta are rich and prosperous. There is no sickness amongst the people, neither is there disease in the herds, or in the flocks. But the dark days may come, when a strong enemy shall come upon the land; yet not before Kalulu shall know it. Sickness may come; but who can prevent the bad spirits that visit us with baleful disease and thin our warriors, and make us poor in flocks and herds? Yet Kalulu shall be ready with his sacrifices and his potent medicine to soften the hearts of the bad spirits. It is well. The Watuta love Kalulu; they have made him their King. When the time comes, and necessity demands, Kalulu will die for the Watuta. I have spoken.”Having finished his Oration, Kalulu retired from amongst the people, and went into his own hut, where he found Selim and Abdullah, Simba and Moto, conversing upon the events of the last two days.The four rose to receive him courteously, and offered him a clean ox-hide to sit upon, and began to condole with him upon the loss of the King who loved him so much.“Ah! yes, he was a dear, good man. My going out and coming in he watched like a lioness her whelps. He was proud of me, too; for he said I had the eyes of Loralamba, his father, and carried my head like him. He often said that I should make the Watuta a great nation, greater than it was in the time of Loralamba. He told me, a little before I went away after the elephants, how to behave myself when I should become King, and advised me to travel with a great many warriors all around Ututa, and see for myself how great my country is, and who pay the tribute and who do not; because, he said, when Kings forget their people their people forget who is their King, and set up for themselves. Then quarrels begin, and war follows, and tribes rise against one another, and a nation becomes weak. I mean to follow his advice; and when the next moon is full, begin the journey. Say, Selim, how wouldst thou like it?”“Oh, Kalulu! thou art King now of all this great nation, thou art rich and powerful; there is none like unto thee in all the lands of Africa. Thousands of warriors are ready to do thy bidding; armies of great, strong, fierce men are under thy feet. If thou wilt but more that little tongue of thine, there is war everywhere; men will begin to hate one another and to lust for each other’s blood; Tillages will be destroyed, and whole tribes shall be known no more. Thou, who art but a boy like me, art dreadful in thy sudden power. But a few days ago, under the tree where the dead elephant lay, thou didst embrace me, thou didst say all manner of kind things unto me. Wilt thou do Selim a favour, Kalulu?”“Will I do thee a favour? Oh, Selim! dost thou think that, because I am King of the Watuta, I can forget our brotherhood? Dost thou think that Kalulu’s friendship changes like the antelope, which roameth about for the sweet grass, now here, now there? No; Kalulu’s friendship is like the water of a river, always flowing in the same direction, true and constant. Ask me anything thou wilt, and I will give it thee! Dost thou want a wife? Take pretty Imamalu, and if she is not enough, take Koranilu; and if thou wouldst like another, ask for her, and thou shalt have her. Dost thou need a gun? Ask for as many as thou wilt. What is it thou wouldst ask?”“I would ask,” answered Selim, “that, now thou art King, thou wilt permit Abdullah, Simba, and Moto, and myself to depart to our own land.”“Depart!” echoed Kalulu, “and leave me alone! What has Kalulu done unto thee or thy friends, that thou wouldst leave him?”“Nay, my brother—if thou wilt permit me to call thee by that name still—thou hast done nothing of wrong unto us,” replied Selim. “Thou hast been too good, if anything. What should we have done without thy friendship? But thou must remember, Kalulu, we left our own land to trade for ivory and slaves. We came as far as Urori, intending to go to Rua, on the other side of Lake Tanganika; but at Ewikuru of Olimali the caravan was destroyed, our fathers and friends were killed, others were made slaves along with ourselves. But we were happy in finding a friend in thee. We were released from slavery, and in my master I found a brother. But, Kalulu, at Zanzibar, Abdullah and I have mothers, who are sorrowing for us. I have a rich estate, and plenty of money waiting for me; Simba and Moto have wives and children. If Kalulu permits us to go, would it be well for us to remain here?”“Ah! poor Katalambula is dead, he has been but just buried; and now Selim wants to go away, and leave me. What evil spirit is this, that makes me suffer so? What have I done, that all should leave me? Why should I suffer, when all other men are happy? I wish I were in Katalambula’s place, and he in mine. Thou wilt not want to go at once, Selim, wilt thou? Surely, thou wilt have pity upon me, and remain a few moons longer; then I myself—though I know I shall die—will take thee with a thousand warriors to where thou wilt find thyself safe, and among thy friends.”“Oh, Kalulu, I did not mean to go away at once. I meant after one moon. Wilt thou not let me go after one moon, my brother? Think of my poor mother, what she must suffer all this time! It is this that makes me wish I had the wings of an eagle, to fly to her, and tell her how safe and happy I have been with thee. It is this only which could make me wish to leave thee so soon after thy great loss.”“Then, Selim, let it be as thou wilt. Kalulu has not the bad heart to keep a son from a mother; sooner would his own heart burst in his own body, than my brother should suffer. Thou hast said thou hadst intended to have gone to Rua for ivory and slaves. No need to go so far. I have here two hundred of the Arabs’ people Ferodia took at Ewikuru. They shall be thine, and each man shall be loaded with ivory, one hundred of which shall be thy portion, and the other hundred for Moto, and Simba, and Abdullah. Art thou satisfied?”“Satisfied!” said Selim, in a wondering tone.—“Satisfied! I should be worse than dead clay, if I were not. Nay, thy kindness must have some reward; for the same Sky-spirit which has touched thy heart with soft kindness towards me, has now touched mine: I shall stay two moons with thee, and I then shall ask thee to let me go. But thou art so good, Kalulu; I shall never meet thy like again, when I depart from thee,” and Selim wept grateful tears, as he threw himself upon the neck of the noble young savage, while Abdullah, in a transport of joy, kissed the generous chief’s feet; nor was Simba or Moto backward in expressing their admiration of Kalulu’s generosity.They spent many hours together, until late in the night, consulting about what should be done in the meantime, and how a new amusement should be furnished for almost every day; after which they retired, each to his bed to sleep, with their hearts full of peace and love towards one another.We will now leave the young King and his friends to their pleasures, while we note what became of the minority who expressed themselves so strongly against the election of Katalambula’s choice for King, and who departed before the ceremony of election and appointment began, muttering threats.These threats were by no means idle. They were made by men who had accompanied Ferodia to Urori, and fought at Kwikuru, and who were rewarded so handsomely by him during the distribution of cloth. They were warriors who paid respect to courage and success, and to them Ferodia was a hero far more deserving of the chief authority over the tribe than a boy, who, however promising he might be, had not yet distinguished himself more than any other boy would have done, placed in the same position.Ferodia was a chief, who, were he King, might be able to make each warrior rich in cloth, in ivory, in slaves, and cattle; while with Kalulu as King, many years must elapse before he would think of venturing upon a war unprovoked.When they left the village, and were safe outside, these feelings found expression, and, consulting and advising with each other, they were not long in coming to the conclusion that their interest lay in proceeding at once to Ferodia’s country, a week’s march south-west, and acquaint him with their hopes and desires, and invite him to proclaim himself King, with the aid of all malcontents, and friends, and to march upon Kalulu’s village and depose the boy-king. This duty of self-interest they at once set about executing, by commencing their march for Ferodia’s country.Within a week they made their appearance before Ferodia’s village, and when they told their errand, they were at once introduced before the chief, who sat under a tree, similar to the one at Katalambula’s, obsequious and villainous-faced Tifum the Wicked standing by his side.“Peace be unto ye, my brothers,” said Ferodia, rising, and hurrying to embrace each one in succession, and, as is the custom in Ututa and in all the lands adjoining Lake Tanganika, rubbing their elbows first, then their arms, then their shoulders, and then falling on their necks, slapping them on the back gently with the disengaged right hand, muttering continually as he rubbed each part, “Wake, wake, wake, waky”—Health, health, health, and peace.Finally, after going through the ceremony of greeting, like an assiduous old diplomat that he was, he asked:“Whence come ye, my brothers? and what is your purpose?”The chief of the party of chiefs, who was the spokesman, answered, “Why should we come thus far, O Ferodia, if it were not to greet thee as King of all the Watuta? Katalambula, the great King, is dead. He is no more. There is nothing left of him. He is in the ground. The Watuta tribes have now no leader, no chief, no king; they are like unto the flocks on the plain, bleating for the shepherd that cannot be found. They are going astray after one who is not old enough to be their shepherd. They have elected the boy Kalulu, who is but a child, and is not yet a warrior. He is like unto an infant just weaned, who seeketh the pap refused him. Katalambula being dead, Kalulu is drowned in tears; verily, he has lost his head from sorrow, for he is but a child, and has lost his friend and father, and knoweth not what to do. Wherefore, we came unto thee, O Ferodia, to ask thee to be our shepherd, our leader, our king. Say, what is thy answer?”Ferodia answered softly: “The words thou hast spoken are words of truth, my brother. Katalambula being dead, the Watuta have lost their leader. Kalulu, in truth, is but a child—but a child completely spoiled. Any of my boy-slaves were fitter to be king of the warlike Watuta than he. Who is Kalulu? He is not a matuta, he is not a warrior, he is not the son of Katalambula, he has not won the right to carry a spear, save as a burden. He is a Mrori, the son of Mostana, one of a stranger tribe. Katalambula being dead, the Watuta have no leader. But who has a better right to fill his place than I, Ferodia? Who won his battles for him, but I, Ferodia? Who conquered the Wabona, the Wumarungu, the Wakonongo, the Wanyamwezi, the Wasowa, the Wakawendi, and the Warimba, but I, Forodia? By my fame I have won the right to succeed him who is dead. By my courage in the field, there is none fitter to take his place. By my victories, I have deserved the honour. Verily, thy words are words of truth, my brother, and thou makest me glad with thy wise remarks.”“Speak, Ferodia, O chief, when wilt thou that we go and punish Soltali, and those who have chosen another in thy place?” asked the spokesman of his visitors.Whereupon a council was called, to which all the chiefs and all the great warriors, the doctors, the councillors, even all those who had authority were invited.The discussion was lively, and had a newspaper reporter who understood Kituta polysyllables been there, I doubt not he would have been as much edified as he would be elsewhere amongst councils. “How is Katalambula’s village to be taken? How is Kalulu to be ousted out of his right? How are the warriors in the village to be brought to submission to Ferodia, if they have made Kalulu king?” were the questions to be answered.One chief suggested that Ferodia should visit Kalulu, and offer him the hand of friendship, and in the night rise up and slay; another, that Kalulu should be invited for a grand elephant hunt: when in the woods the young King might be easily disposed of; another, that he should be invited to Ferodia’s country, to celebrate his coming to power, when he could be poisoned by the doctors—in short, all things were suggested to aid the daring conspirators to deprive Kalulu of his rights.“Tifum, what dost thou advise? Thou art cunning as a phizi (hyaena), chary of thy speech as the flying-cat is of its form, wise as a lord of an elephant herd, but cruel as the sable leopard; which letteth not go whatever it seizes upon. Thou art invaluable to me, O Tifum; therefore speak, and give thy chief counsel,” said Ferodia.Being commanded to speak, Tifum the Wicked rose and said:“Words, words! Who is like unto Forodia in wisdom? He searches the heart, and penetrates to the hidden and unspoken thoughts. Ferodia knows that Tifum the Wicked can give him counsel, and he forthwith commands him to speak. Who is like unto Ferodia in the battle? He rages about the war-field, seeking the strong arm and the brave with whom he may measure his strength. His feet lift him from point to point, swift as the swiftest quagga in the forest. He springs aloft with his ever-thirsty spear, seeking to drink the blood of the strongest. When his voice is heard his foes stand abashed, as if the roaring lion had come into the fight. I, Tifum the Wicked, have seen him oft in the war, and Tifum knows whereof he speaks. Ferodia the chief commands Tifum to give him counsel. My counsel is this, O chief. Katalambula’s village is strong—the warriors are many—the palisade is lofty and close, and the villages round about are more than can be counted. Ferodia’s tribe is small and weak; it is like a handful of sand compared to the sand of all the plain. Alone, we may not venture on a war with all the Watuta. Let us, then, send messengers to the people of Kinyala, whose chief Katalambula killed, and who are yet resentful. To the chiefs of Marungu, and to those of Itawa by the lake. Let us send good words to Mohilizi and to the band of Wazavila, who live but a few days’ off, and with all these together, and with the aid of these discontented chiefs of the Meroeni tribe, we may hope to make a successful war. The is this: Let Ferodia take with him all the warriors of his own tribe, and with them proceed to Kalulu, and if he asks why we have come, say, ‘We are come to offer thee our congratulations. Art thou not our King? Wherefore we have come to serve thee.’ Then Ferodia, with one hundred of his best warriors, shall go in unto the village and make friends with all, and be assiduous to please Kalulu, while the rest shall remain outside until the tenth night, when the hillmen from Amboella, the men from the soft pasture lands, the leas, and the meadows of the lake-land Itawa, when those of the fierce tribe of the Wazavila, the strong men of Urungu, and the tall men of Mohilizi, shall have been gathered together—then on the tenth night, while the warriors of Ferodia shall seize on Kalulu and some upon Soltali and other elders, some shall come to the gates, and stand there until it is time for those outside to act; then, when all is ready, let all rush in and slaughter and kill. In the morning, when the Watuta shall hear that Ferodia has conquered, they will be afraid, and will come to him in a body, as one man, and be faithful to him, as they were to Katalambula. But Kalulu must die—there can be no peace while he lives; and if it pleases Ferodia, let it be my task to wring off that young cock’s head. O chief, these are the words of Tifum the Wicked.”“Good, good!” all shouted enthusiastically; and even Ferodia was as loud as any in his approbation. The excellent advice of Tifum was acted upon; and the messengers were at once despatched in all directions, to rouse the subdued tribes and to enlist all the discontented to rally to Ferodia’s standard, and to bid them all march by way of the great forest, and by night through the corn-fields as near as possible to Katalambula’s village, and to be outside the village near the morning after the tenth night.Ferodia, selecting his warriors, out of which he again selected a chosen hundred—men of mettle and might, unscrupulous, and quick with their spears—proceeded the next morning for Katalambula’s village, the Kwikuru of Ututa, while the discontented of the tribe of Meroeni hastened, by day and by night, to make ready their men for the great and momentous struggle. Tifum had with him as bearers several of the boy-slaves which were captured at Kwikuru of Urori, and who had endured the fatigues of the march with Selim and Abdullah; and among these was found the little negro boy Niani, who had so mysteriously disappeared from our view and our knowledge. These were not in bonds now; they had come to be entrusted by their new masters for their docility and weakness; and Niani had come to be quite a favourite with Tifum, who recognised the little fellow’s shrewdness and deftness of hands.Ferodia, as he drew near Kwikuru, left the larger number of his warriors, and all the slaves and servants behind; and, taking with him only the choice hundred warriors, advanced upon the capital of the Watuta, and made his appearance before the gates, where, coming in the guise of friendship to congratulate the new King, he was heartily received, and admitted to the great square.Kalulu was disposed at first, when he was informed of Ferodia’s arrival, to be resentful, and his mind was crowded with suspicious thoughts; but Ferodia’s excessive courtesy and amiability, the warmth of his greeting and congratulations, soon disarmed the mind of the ingenuous youth, and, as well as he was able, he replied kindly, and tendered the hospitalities of the village.To Tifum’s greeting Kalulu gave a cold and haughty nod; but Tifum was a diplomat of the first water, and, as needs must when needs drive, Tifum excelled Tifum’s self in deceptive cordiality and genuflective graciosities. He was smiling and chatting now with Kalulu, and anon with Selim, who he declared had wonderfully improved; that he was now but a little less handsome and but a little shorter in height than Kalulu the new King, who was sure, by-and-by, to become a greater King than his grandfather Loralamba.He went up also to Simba, who had so bruised his body some time ago, and so purred and fondled that giant that Simba’s repugnance became so strong that he told him to desist, that Arabs were not accustomed to carry their greetings with strangers in such a familiar way. But nothing could upset Wicked Tifum’s equanimity and plans; he roared with laughter, and slapped his thighs so loudly that Moto began to think Tifum had lost his mind.Tifum, however, while Moto made the remark, caught sight of the sweet, pale face of Abdullah, and at once darted upon him; and, despite Abdullah’s struggles, embraced the lad as if in him Tifum had found a lost son; but when he released him finally, Abdullah, while his face blushed crimson at this indignity, slapped Tifum full on the cheek; but the heroic Tifum did not mind that in the least; he only laughed louder than ever, though Abdullah thought he detected a fierce blaze of anger in his eyes.However, Ferodia and Tifum were inside Kwikuru, and the time intervening between their entrance into it and the night appointed for the consummation of their enterprise passed quickly and quietly enough. On the tenth morning Tifum communicated to Ferodia the gratifying intelligence that their friends were in the neighbourhood distributed among the villages of the tribe of Meroeni, three hours’ distance.The tenth day passed tranquilly, and the night came. Not a single breath of suspicion had been uttered, though among themselves Kalulu and his friends expressed strong misgivings; but this was set down to their dislike to the ambitious Ferodia, and his cunning, intriguing, cruel parasite, Tifum the Wicked. Ah! could Kalulu have but known what devilish plans were lurking unseen in his village—what plot was hatching—what evil hung over him, how quickly had he sounded the cry of alarm, how different would he have acted; how he would have sprung as a leopard into their midst, and torn the conspirators into pieces! But neither Kalulu nor his friends dreamed of anything of all this evil, and drowsiness stole over their bodies, and gentle, unsuspicious slumber pressed their eyelids, and stilled their minds into unconsciousness.Notes. Loralamba, father of Katalambula and Mostana.Uwemba, a country bordering Lake Tanganika.Liemba, the river which sometimes gives its name to a portion of Ututa.Manyapara is a Kituta term for councillor, wise elder.Wa-marungu: people of Marungu.Kwikuru: the capital.Malungu: sky-spirit.Wakhokoro: a tribe north of Urori.Kinyala: a small country south-west of Ututa.Rufizi: a river.Zambesi: known as Chambezi.Mwenni: Lord.Simbamwenni: Lion lord, or Lion king.Wagala: people of Ugala.Wazvila: people of Uzavila—a scattered tribe north of Ututa.Mtuta: a man of Ututa.Watuta: the people of Ututa.

After a march of two weeks without a single incident, they arrived at Katalambula’s village, to hear the sad news that the King had died the day before, and that everybody was mourning for him.

This was a great shock for Kalulu, for the King had loved him dearly, and the young chief bore him great affection in return.

When at first the news was conveyed to him, he seemed to be suddenly stricken dumb, his face assumed a livid hue, and he trembled all over. Then, giving vent to his sorrows in a long, sad cry of sorrow, he hastened to the King’s house, where the doctors were found attending the corpse, and at once threw himself on the body, uttering the most doleful lamentations, crying, “Awake, thou King! thou chief of the Watuta, awake! Behold me, thy son, Kalulu, returned from the chase! Open thine ears, O Katalambula! Listen to the voice of thy son! Open thy eyes, O Katalambula! stretch out thine hand, and feel the form of him thou didst so love! Speak, Katalambula! Say, whither hast thou gone, that thy voice may no longer be heard, nor thy ears may longer hear Kalulu’s Voice? Kalulu, the child of thy brother Mostana, calls unto thee! Come out with me, O Katalambula! Come out under the tree! come and tell Kalulu of thy prowess when thou wert young! Ah! Katalambula, I shall die if thou wilt not wake up!” and thus he kept calling on the dead, until he found his cries and tears were of no avail. He rose then, and went to his hut, and closed the door, and on his rugged bed, his tears flowed silently and swiftly, until it seemed as if his soul would melt in tears.

When near sunset, the grave being ready, under a hut erected over it at the corner of the square, and the ceremony of burial was about to begin, Kalulu came out of his hut to do honour to the body of Katalambula. All the Wa-mganga (Wa-mganga—plural of mganga—magic doctors) from the neighbouring villages were gathered together; all the elders, the councillors, and principal men of the tribe were assembled, until the great square of the capital was crowded with warriors, women, and children. In order that the ceremony might be allowed to proceed in due form, they had arranged themselves around a large circle, having the great tree for its centre. In this circle were assembled the doctors of magio and the chief mourners, and near them were the fattest, finest bulls that could be procured, black in colour and without a single blemish, which were to be killed over Katalambula’s grave; near by, also, were enormous earthenware pots of pombe (beer) and plaintain wine, which were to be poured over the grave as a libation to his manes.

The drummers were in their places, the wa-mganga (doctors) were ready, painted and striped with white chalk all over, with the gourds, half-filled with pebbles, in their hands; and the chant began.

The author, in order to do something like justice to the pathetic death-song of the King, finds himself compelled to give as literal a translation as possible. The tune was most mournful, the chorus most pathetic, being drawn out into a long, sweet-toned wail; and the voices of the women and children, mingling with the deeper voices of the warriors, were effectively impressive:

The son of Loralamba,The conqueror of Uwemba,The Sultan of Liemba,Is dead!The brother of Mostana,The wisest Manyapara,The King of the Watuta,Is dead!Chorus. Is dead!Oh, he is dead!He who fought Wa-marungu,The great lord of Kwikuru,The wise son of Malungu,Is dead!He who slew Tamaniro,Chief of the Wukhokoro,By the river Amhenuro,Is dead!Chorus. Is dead!Oh, he is dead!Who triumph’d o’er Kansala,Near the Mount Araboella,In the land of Kinyala,Is dead!Chorus. Is dead!Oh, he is dead!The uncle of Kalulu,The sire of KoraniluAnd pretty Imamulu,Is dead!He who married Lamoli,The daughter of Soltali,By the woman Zimbili,Is dead!Chorus. Is dead!Oh, he is dead!The lord of Mohilizi,And the land from BonziTo the River Zambezi,Is dead!The bravest, wisest Mwenni,Of the tribe of Meroeni,The dauntless Simbamwenni,Is dead!Chorus. Is dead!Oh, he is dead!He was fear’d by Wagala,By the fierce Wazavila,Was great Katalambula,Who is dead!But the mighty Mtuta,Bravest of the Watuta,The Sultan of Ututa,Is dead!Chorus. He is dead!Oh, he is dead!Ah! the King we did adore,We shall see his face no more,And our hearts are sad and sore,For he is dead!Kindest, best, and wisest King,On thy head the dust we fling,And in sorrow do we sing.Our lord is dead!Chorus. Our lord is dead!Alas! our lord is dead!O King! why didst thou thus die?Deep in the grave thou must lie,While we will for ever cry,Our chief is dead!O’er him pour libative wine,O’er him slay the fattest kine,O’er him make the magic sign,For our King is dead!Chorus. For our King is dead!Alas! our King is dead!

When the chant was ended, the body was laid on a long, broad piece of stiff bark, and four wa-mganga (doctors) carried it to the grave, where it was laid on the right side, with the King’s shield, spears, bow, and quiver of arrows. A pot, full of millet-flour, mixed with water was placed, closely covered, by the head, and the stiff piece of bark, which served to convey the body to the grave, was placed over the body; then the plaintain wine was poured over this, the black bulls were brought up and slaughtered, the blood pouring into the grave; then the earth was scraped in and stamped close and hard; and, finally, ten potfuls of pombe were poured over the grave, and the ceremony was over.

Then the elders, the councillors, and the doctors gathered together under the great tree, and began to discuss the question who should be King. A large number proposed that Ferodia should be sent for, as he was a relative of the King; but the majority, though small, were for Kalulu, who, not only was nephew of Katalambula, but adopted son, and the choice of the old King. Besides, Kalulu was a brave lad, and would in time be a greater warrior than Ferodia, perhaps greater than Katalambula, and the equal of Loralamba. His youth was full of promise, and he had already won everybody’s regard for his amiability and good heart, said they. Whereupon the discussion grew fierce; those for Ferodia threatened to leave Katalambula’s tribe and go over to him, and would return with spear and sword to cut Kalulu’s head off. Finally, when all this was at its greatest height, and wordy dissension came near ending in bloodshed, Soltali rose, and, by his eloquence, succeeded in calming the turbulent and winning over to Kalulu’s side several of the adherents of Ferodia, until there remained but a email, contumacious minority for the latter.

While the majority waited for the messengers sent to inform Kalulu of the honour conferred on him, the minority rose and departed out of the village, muttering threats, and promising to return with Ferodia, who would punish all with a terrible vengeance.

Kalulu received the deputation, and when told its mission, rose at once and followed them to Soltali. This old man—the principal magic doctor of the tribe—was not only one of the chief councillors, or chief manyapara—to give the technical Kituta term—but had also had the honour of having Katalambula for his son-in-law, as the King had taken his daughter Lamoli for wife, and Moto’s wife, Lamoli, was granddaughter to Soltali. But, aside from this relationship to Kalulu, the old man dearly loved the amiable prince, and rejoiced that he was now permitted to inform Kalulu that he was elected King.

Some of thedowa, or uganga (the millet-flour mixed with water, a most potent medicine or charm), was placed near Soltali, and as Kalulu stood before them in the now bright moonlight, graceful as a dusky Ganymede, the magic doctor rose, while the elders and councillors sat around, and, taking some of the potent medicine in his hand, he touched the boy’s forehead, each cheek, nose, mouth, and chin, crying in a loud voice: “Be thou King! Be thou brave! Be thou strong! Be thou good! And let all thy enemies run before thee!”

In succession each elder rose, dipped his hand in the medicine, and touched Kalulu’s forehead with it, saying, “Be thou King! Be thou brave! Be thou strong! Be thou good! and let all thy enemies run before thee!”

Then the warriors were summoned by the drums to the square, and all the women and children gathered also, and old Soltali, the high priest and magic doctor, sang to them the new King’s good qualities, his birth, his troubles, his arrival at Katalambula’s village, the joy of the old King; how Kalulu became henceforth as his son to him; and how Katalambula had solemnly sworn that Kalulu was his choice for his successor to him, Soltali; what Kalulu had already done towards winning fame; ending with a solemn injunction to all that they should honour and serve Kalulu as they had served his father, so that the glory of the Watuta would become known to all nations, and their bravery be sung in all the corners of the earth.

N.B.—The author extracts such portions of the chant as he deems most interesting; but refuses positively to disfigure any more of his chapters with the uncouth Kituta polysyllables; and refuses, furthermore, to touch upon such ceremonies as have verse or chorus in them, however interesting they may be; for he finds his patience sadly exhausted with being compelled continually to render into barbarous rhyme words which grate on his sensitive ears:

The hero and lion chief, Loralamba,King of Liemba and the streamy Wemba,Lord of all the pasture lands of broad UsangoFrom West Urori to far Ukonongo,Whom the unnumber’d tribes of Tuta and Sowa,From hilly Lobisa to the lake-land Itawa,Obey’d without scruple, him who in each campaignHad slain his foes by hundreds on each hill and plain,When dying, bequeathed his youngest son MostanaThe lands of Rori from Wiwa to Kantana,While to his eldest son, our King, Katalambula,He gave all wide Ututa, including Kinyala.Our King died heirless, but in Rori’s KwikuruHis brother Mostana was blest with Kalulu.When, years ago, the Arabs fell ’pon Kantana,Destroyed Kwikuru, and slew brave Mostana,Young Kalulu came, and sought his father’s brother,And in our King, his uncle, he found a father.Ye recall the day when the King this orphan met;How on his head our King’s infirmed hands were set;How fondly he clasp’d the youth to his aged breast.And, in endearing accents, bade him there find rest.Ye know what delight this boy has since to him been,And the King’s paternal love ye have also seen.Oft have ye heard the King make mention of his name,As one born to win a hero’s long-enduring fame.’Tis needless to rehearse the deeds already doneBy the stout arm of dead Mostana’s princely son;They are known to all the Watuta tribes around,And all our most ambitious youths his praises sound.Morula, King of Ubena, fell by his hand,So died the false and cruel chief of Bemba land.The rebel Bongo, tribal chief on Chuma plain,Fell by Kalulu’s spear, was by Kalulu slain.When the Arab boy sank in the deep waters brown,Gripped by the greedy crocodile, and sank deep down,Who div’d to rescue him? Who but young Kalulu?Who but the noblest, bravest son of Malungu!The King swore to me, - the Mganga Soltali,I, - who to him wedded my daughter Lamoli,“None shall rule as King over Tuta’s KwikuruBut brave Mostana’s son, my princely Kalulu!”Now in council, your priests and elders do maintainThat o’er the Tuta tribes none may aspire to reignSave brave Mostana’s son, and the choice of Malungu.We now proclaim him King. Long live King Kalulu!

The warriors gave a great shout, the drums thundered, and all the warriors, the women, the children, the doctors, the councillors, and elders cried “Long live King Kalulu!”

When silence prevailed, Kalulu stood up before the people, and while the body swayed and the hands made gestures, according as his emotions governed him, the young King might, by a stretch of fancy, have been taken for a demi-god visiting a favoured people, teaching them the ways of the wise, and urging them to abandon savage habits. While all listened intently and admiringly, the elected chief spoke as follows:—

“Warriors of the Watuta, and ye elders and councillors! Ye have elected me King, because I, the son of Mostana, was beloved by Katalambula, and because he, being heirless, said to Soltali, ‘Since I have no son, Kalulu shall reign in my stead, when I am laid in the ground.’ Katalambula has gone to his fathers; he was old, he was weighed down with the burden of years, and loaded with honours; he is no more; the cruel earth covers him. The King is dead, but ye have chosen me to fill his place. I am young, I have not seen many moons, and I am not yet a full warrior. How, then, shall I fill Katalambula’s place? I will tell you. Katalambula was good; he loved the good and hated the wrong. So do I love the good and hate wrong. Katalambula was just. As Katalambula was just, so shall I be. When Katalambula was young, he was strong, he was brave, he was a lion in war. When I shall be a full warrior, I shall be strong, I shall be brave, I shall be a lion in war. Katalambula was wise. Ah! I am young, I am not wise; but I have Soltali, Katalambula’s friend, with me. I have the same elders, the councillors, and the magic doctors; their wisdom they will give me when trouble comes, and by their wisdom shall I be wise. There is peace in the land to-day; the Watuta are rich and prosperous. There is no sickness amongst the people, neither is there disease in the herds, or in the flocks. But the dark days may come, when a strong enemy shall come upon the land; yet not before Kalulu shall know it. Sickness may come; but who can prevent the bad spirits that visit us with baleful disease and thin our warriors, and make us poor in flocks and herds? Yet Kalulu shall be ready with his sacrifices and his potent medicine to soften the hearts of the bad spirits. It is well. The Watuta love Kalulu; they have made him their King. When the time comes, and necessity demands, Kalulu will die for the Watuta. I have spoken.”

Having finished his Oration, Kalulu retired from amongst the people, and went into his own hut, where he found Selim and Abdullah, Simba and Moto, conversing upon the events of the last two days.

The four rose to receive him courteously, and offered him a clean ox-hide to sit upon, and began to condole with him upon the loss of the King who loved him so much.

“Ah! yes, he was a dear, good man. My going out and coming in he watched like a lioness her whelps. He was proud of me, too; for he said I had the eyes of Loralamba, his father, and carried my head like him. He often said that I should make the Watuta a great nation, greater than it was in the time of Loralamba. He told me, a little before I went away after the elephants, how to behave myself when I should become King, and advised me to travel with a great many warriors all around Ututa, and see for myself how great my country is, and who pay the tribute and who do not; because, he said, when Kings forget their people their people forget who is their King, and set up for themselves. Then quarrels begin, and war follows, and tribes rise against one another, and a nation becomes weak. I mean to follow his advice; and when the next moon is full, begin the journey. Say, Selim, how wouldst thou like it?”

“Oh, Kalulu! thou art King now of all this great nation, thou art rich and powerful; there is none like unto thee in all the lands of Africa. Thousands of warriors are ready to do thy bidding; armies of great, strong, fierce men are under thy feet. If thou wilt but more that little tongue of thine, there is war everywhere; men will begin to hate one another and to lust for each other’s blood; Tillages will be destroyed, and whole tribes shall be known no more. Thou, who art but a boy like me, art dreadful in thy sudden power. But a few days ago, under the tree where the dead elephant lay, thou didst embrace me, thou didst say all manner of kind things unto me. Wilt thou do Selim a favour, Kalulu?”

“Will I do thee a favour? Oh, Selim! dost thou think that, because I am King of the Watuta, I can forget our brotherhood? Dost thou think that Kalulu’s friendship changes like the antelope, which roameth about for the sweet grass, now here, now there? No; Kalulu’s friendship is like the water of a river, always flowing in the same direction, true and constant. Ask me anything thou wilt, and I will give it thee! Dost thou want a wife? Take pretty Imamalu, and if she is not enough, take Koranilu; and if thou wouldst like another, ask for her, and thou shalt have her. Dost thou need a gun? Ask for as many as thou wilt. What is it thou wouldst ask?”

“I would ask,” answered Selim, “that, now thou art King, thou wilt permit Abdullah, Simba, and Moto, and myself to depart to our own land.”

“Depart!” echoed Kalulu, “and leave me alone! What has Kalulu done unto thee or thy friends, that thou wouldst leave him?”

“Nay, my brother—if thou wilt permit me to call thee by that name still—thou hast done nothing of wrong unto us,” replied Selim. “Thou hast been too good, if anything. What should we have done without thy friendship? But thou must remember, Kalulu, we left our own land to trade for ivory and slaves. We came as far as Urori, intending to go to Rua, on the other side of Lake Tanganika; but at Ewikuru of Olimali the caravan was destroyed, our fathers and friends were killed, others were made slaves along with ourselves. But we were happy in finding a friend in thee. We were released from slavery, and in my master I found a brother. But, Kalulu, at Zanzibar, Abdullah and I have mothers, who are sorrowing for us. I have a rich estate, and plenty of money waiting for me; Simba and Moto have wives and children. If Kalulu permits us to go, would it be well for us to remain here?”

“Ah! poor Katalambula is dead, he has been but just buried; and now Selim wants to go away, and leave me. What evil spirit is this, that makes me suffer so? What have I done, that all should leave me? Why should I suffer, when all other men are happy? I wish I were in Katalambula’s place, and he in mine. Thou wilt not want to go at once, Selim, wilt thou? Surely, thou wilt have pity upon me, and remain a few moons longer; then I myself—though I know I shall die—will take thee with a thousand warriors to where thou wilt find thyself safe, and among thy friends.”

“Oh, Kalulu, I did not mean to go away at once. I meant after one moon. Wilt thou not let me go after one moon, my brother? Think of my poor mother, what she must suffer all this time! It is this that makes me wish I had the wings of an eagle, to fly to her, and tell her how safe and happy I have been with thee. It is this only which could make me wish to leave thee so soon after thy great loss.”

“Then, Selim, let it be as thou wilt. Kalulu has not the bad heart to keep a son from a mother; sooner would his own heart burst in his own body, than my brother should suffer. Thou hast said thou hadst intended to have gone to Rua for ivory and slaves. No need to go so far. I have here two hundred of the Arabs’ people Ferodia took at Ewikuru. They shall be thine, and each man shall be loaded with ivory, one hundred of which shall be thy portion, and the other hundred for Moto, and Simba, and Abdullah. Art thou satisfied?”

“Satisfied!” said Selim, in a wondering tone.—“Satisfied! I should be worse than dead clay, if I were not. Nay, thy kindness must have some reward; for the same Sky-spirit which has touched thy heart with soft kindness towards me, has now touched mine: I shall stay two moons with thee, and I then shall ask thee to let me go. But thou art so good, Kalulu; I shall never meet thy like again, when I depart from thee,” and Selim wept grateful tears, as he threw himself upon the neck of the noble young savage, while Abdullah, in a transport of joy, kissed the generous chief’s feet; nor was Simba or Moto backward in expressing their admiration of Kalulu’s generosity.

They spent many hours together, until late in the night, consulting about what should be done in the meantime, and how a new amusement should be furnished for almost every day; after which they retired, each to his bed to sleep, with their hearts full of peace and love towards one another.

We will now leave the young King and his friends to their pleasures, while we note what became of the minority who expressed themselves so strongly against the election of Katalambula’s choice for King, and who departed before the ceremony of election and appointment began, muttering threats.

These threats were by no means idle. They were made by men who had accompanied Ferodia to Urori, and fought at Kwikuru, and who were rewarded so handsomely by him during the distribution of cloth. They were warriors who paid respect to courage and success, and to them Ferodia was a hero far more deserving of the chief authority over the tribe than a boy, who, however promising he might be, had not yet distinguished himself more than any other boy would have done, placed in the same position.

Ferodia was a chief, who, were he King, might be able to make each warrior rich in cloth, in ivory, in slaves, and cattle; while with Kalulu as King, many years must elapse before he would think of venturing upon a war unprovoked.

When they left the village, and were safe outside, these feelings found expression, and, consulting and advising with each other, they were not long in coming to the conclusion that their interest lay in proceeding at once to Ferodia’s country, a week’s march south-west, and acquaint him with their hopes and desires, and invite him to proclaim himself King, with the aid of all malcontents, and friends, and to march upon Kalulu’s village and depose the boy-king. This duty of self-interest they at once set about executing, by commencing their march for Ferodia’s country.

Within a week they made their appearance before Ferodia’s village, and when they told their errand, they were at once introduced before the chief, who sat under a tree, similar to the one at Katalambula’s, obsequious and villainous-faced Tifum the Wicked standing by his side.

“Peace be unto ye, my brothers,” said Ferodia, rising, and hurrying to embrace each one in succession, and, as is the custom in Ututa and in all the lands adjoining Lake Tanganika, rubbing their elbows first, then their arms, then their shoulders, and then falling on their necks, slapping them on the back gently with the disengaged right hand, muttering continually as he rubbed each part, “Wake, wake, wake, waky”—Health, health, health, and peace.

Finally, after going through the ceremony of greeting, like an assiduous old diplomat that he was, he asked:

“Whence come ye, my brothers? and what is your purpose?”

The chief of the party of chiefs, who was the spokesman, answered, “Why should we come thus far, O Ferodia, if it were not to greet thee as King of all the Watuta? Katalambula, the great King, is dead. He is no more. There is nothing left of him. He is in the ground. The Watuta tribes have now no leader, no chief, no king; they are like unto the flocks on the plain, bleating for the shepherd that cannot be found. They are going astray after one who is not old enough to be their shepherd. They have elected the boy Kalulu, who is but a child, and is not yet a warrior. He is like unto an infant just weaned, who seeketh the pap refused him. Katalambula being dead, Kalulu is drowned in tears; verily, he has lost his head from sorrow, for he is but a child, and has lost his friend and father, and knoweth not what to do. Wherefore, we came unto thee, O Ferodia, to ask thee to be our shepherd, our leader, our king. Say, what is thy answer?”

Ferodia answered softly: “The words thou hast spoken are words of truth, my brother. Katalambula being dead, the Watuta have lost their leader. Kalulu, in truth, is but a child—but a child completely spoiled. Any of my boy-slaves were fitter to be king of the warlike Watuta than he. Who is Kalulu? He is not a matuta, he is not a warrior, he is not the son of Katalambula, he has not won the right to carry a spear, save as a burden. He is a Mrori, the son of Mostana, one of a stranger tribe. Katalambula being dead, the Watuta have no leader. But who has a better right to fill his place than I, Ferodia? Who won his battles for him, but I, Ferodia? Who conquered the Wabona, the Wumarungu, the Wakonongo, the Wanyamwezi, the Wasowa, the Wakawendi, and the Warimba, but I, Forodia? By my fame I have won the right to succeed him who is dead. By my courage in the field, there is none fitter to take his place. By my victories, I have deserved the honour. Verily, thy words are words of truth, my brother, and thou makest me glad with thy wise remarks.”

“Speak, Ferodia, O chief, when wilt thou that we go and punish Soltali, and those who have chosen another in thy place?” asked the spokesman of his visitors.

Whereupon a council was called, to which all the chiefs and all the great warriors, the doctors, the councillors, even all those who had authority were invited.

The discussion was lively, and had a newspaper reporter who understood Kituta polysyllables been there, I doubt not he would have been as much edified as he would be elsewhere amongst councils. “How is Katalambula’s village to be taken? How is Kalulu to be ousted out of his right? How are the warriors in the village to be brought to submission to Ferodia, if they have made Kalulu king?” were the questions to be answered.

One chief suggested that Ferodia should visit Kalulu, and offer him the hand of friendship, and in the night rise up and slay; another, that Kalulu should be invited for a grand elephant hunt: when in the woods the young King might be easily disposed of; another, that he should be invited to Ferodia’s country, to celebrate his coming to power, when he could be poisoned by the doctors—in short, all things were suggested to aid the daring conspirators to deprive Kalulu of his rights.

“Tifum, what dost thou advise? Thou art cunning as a phizi (hyaena), chary of thy speech as the flying-cat is of its form, wise as a lord of an elephant herd, but cruel as the sable leopard; which letteth not go whatever it seizes upon. Thou art invaluable to me, O Tifum; therefore speak, and give thy chief counsel,” said Ferodia.

Being commanded to speak, Tifum the Wicked rose and said:

“Words, words! Who is like unto Forodia in wisdom? He searches the heart, and penetrates to the hidden and unspoken thoughts. Ferodia knows that Tifum the Wicked can give him counsel, and he forthwith commands him to speak. Who is like unto Ferodia in the battle? He rages about the war-field, seeking the strong arm and the brave with whom he may measure his strength. His feet lift him from point to point, swift as the swiftest quagga in the forest. He springs aloft with his ever-thirsty spear, seeking to drink the blood of the strongest. When his voice is heard his foes stand abashed, as if the roaring lion had come into the fight. I, Tifum the Wicked, have seen him oft in the war, and Tifum knows whereof he speaks. Ferodia the chief commands Tifum to give him counsel. My counsel is this, O chief. Katalambula’s village is strong—the warriors are many—the palisade is lofty and close, and the villages round about are more than can be counted. Ferodia’s tribe is small and weak; it is like a handful of sand compared to the sand of all the plain. Alone, we may not venture on a war with all the Watuta. Let us, then, send messengers to the people of Kinyala, whose chief Katalambula killed, and who are yet resentful. To the chiefs of Marungu, and to those of Itawa by the lake. Let us send good words to Mohilizi and to the band of Wazavila, who live but a few days’ off, and with all these together, and with the aid of these discontented chiefs of the Meroeni tribe, we may hope to make a successful war. The is this: Let Ferodia take with him all the warriors of his own tribe, and with them proceed to Kalulu, and if he asks why we have come, say, ‘We are come to offer thee our congratulations. Art thou not our King? Wherefore we have come to serve thee.’ Then Ferodia, with one hundred of his best warriors, shall go in unto the village and make friends with all, and be assiduous to please Kalulu, while the rest shall remain outside until the tenth night, when the hillmen from Amboella, the men from the soft pasture lands, the leas, and the meadows of the lake-land Itawa, when those of the fierce tribe of the Wazavila, the strong men of Urungu, and the tall men of Mohilizi, shall have been gathered together—then on the tenth night, while the warriors of Ferodia shall seize on Kalulu and some upon Soltali and other elders, some shall come to the gates, and stand there until it is time for those outside to act; then, when all is ready, let all rush in and slaughter and kill. In the morning, when the Watuta shall hear that Ferodia has conquered, they will be afraid, and will come to him in a body, as one man, and be faithful to him, as they were to Katalambula. But Kalulu must die—there can be no peace while he lives; and if it pleases Ferodia, let it be my task to wring off that young cock’s head. O chief, these are the words of Tifum the Wicked.”

“Good, good!” all shouted enthusiastically; and even Ferodia was as loud as any in his approbation. The excellent advice of Tifum was acted upon; and the messengers were at once despatched in all directions, to rouse the subdued tribes and to enlist all the discontented to rally to Ferodia’s standard, and to bid them all march by way of the great forest, and by night through the corn-fields as near as possible to Katalambula’s village, and to be outside the village near the morning after the tenth night.

Ferodia, selecting his warriors, out of which he again selected a chosen hundred—men of mettle and might, unscrupulous, and quick with their spears—proceeded the next morning for Katalambula’s village, the Kwikuru of Ututa, while the discontented of the tribe of Meroeni hastened, by day and by night, to make ready their men for the great and momentous struggle. Tifum had with him as bearers several of the boy-slaves which were captured at Kwikuru of Urori, and who had endured the fatigues of the march with Selim and Abdullah; and among these was found the little negro boy Niani, who had so mysteriously disappeared from our view and our knowledge. These were not in bonds now; they had come to be entrusted by their new masters for their docility and weakness; and Niani had come to be quite a favourite with Tifum, who recognised the little fellow’s shrewdness and deftness of hands.

Ferodia, as he drew near Kwikuru, left the larger number of his warriors, and all the slaves and servants behind; and, taking with him only the choice hundred warriors, advanced upon the capital of the Watuta, and made his appearance before the gates, where, coming in the guise of friendship to congratulate the new King, he was heartily received, and admitted to the great square.

Kalulu was disposed at first, when he was informed of Ferodia’s arrival, to be resentful, and his mind was crowded with suspicious thoughts; but Ferodia’s excessive courtesy and amiability, the warmth of his greeting and congratulations, soon disarmed the mind of the ingenuous youth, and, as well as he was able, he replied kindly, and tendered the hospitalities of the village.

To Tifum’s greeting Kalulu gave a cold and haughty nod; but Tifum was a diplomat of the first water, and, as needs must when needs drive, Tifum excelled Tifum’s self in deceptive cordiality and genuflective graciosities. He was smiling and chatting now with Kalulu, and anon with Selim, who he declared had wonderfully improved; that he was now but a little less handsome and but a little shorter in height than Kalulu the new King, who was sure, by-and-by, to become a greater King than his grandfather Loralamba.

He went up also to Simba, who had so bruised his body some time ago, and so purred and fondled that giant that Simba’s repugnance became so strong that he told him to desist, that Arabs were not accustomed to carry their greetings with strangers in such a familiar way. But nothing could upset Wicked Tifum’s equanimity and plans; he roared with laughter, and slapped his thighs so loudly that Moto began to think Tifum had lost his mind.

Tifum, however, while Moto made the remark, caught sight of the sweet, pale face of Abdullah, and at once darted upon him; and, despite Abdullah’s struggles, embraced the lad as if in him Tifum had found a lost son; but when he released him finally, Abdullah, while his face blushed crimson at this indignity, slapped Tifum full on the cheek; but the heroic Tifum did not mind that in the least; he only laughed louder than ever, though Abdullah thought he detected a fierce blaze of anger in his eyes.

However, Ferodia and Tifum were inside Kwikuru, and the time intervening between their entrance into it and the night appointed for the consummation of their enterprise passed quickly and quietly enough. On the tenth morning Tifum communicated to Ferodia the gratifying intelligence that their friends were in the neighbourhood distributed among the villages of the tribe of Meroeni, three hours’ distance.

The tenth day passed tranquilly, and the night came. Not a single breath of suspicion had been uttered, though among themselves Kalulu and his friends expressed strong misgivings; but this was set down to their dislike to the ambitious Ferodia, and his cunning, intriguing, cruel parasite, Tifum the Wicked. Ah! could Kalulu have but known what devilish plans were lurking unseen in his village—what plot was hatching—what evil hung over him, how quickly had he sounded the cry of alarm, how different would he have acted; how he would have sprung as a leopard into their midst, and torn the conspirators into pieces! But neither Kalulu nor his friends dreamed of anything of all this evil, and drowsiness stole over their bodies, and gentle, unsuspicious slumber pressed their eyelids, and stilled their minds into unconsciousness.

Notes. Loralamba, father of Katalambula and Mostana.

Uwemba, a country bordering Lake Tanganika.

Liemba, the river which sometimes gives its name to a portion of Ututa.

Manyapara is a Kituta term for councillor, wise elder.

Wa-marungu: people of Marungu.

Kwikuru: the capital.

Malungu: sky-spirit.

Wakhokoro: a tribe north of Urori.

Kinyala: a small country south-west of Ututa.

Rufizi: a river.

Zambesi: known as Chambezi.

Mwenni: Lord.

Simbamwenni: Lion lord, or Lion king.

Wagala: people of Ugala.

Wazvila: people of Uzavila—a scattered tribe north of Ututa.

Mtuta: a man of Ututa.

Watuta: the people of Ututa.

Chapter Eleven.King Kalulu is a Prisoner—Poor Kalulu!—The Magic Doctor is burnt—Kalulu is told to prepare for Death—The night following Soltali’s Execution—The Mouse assists the Lions—The End of Tifum the Wicked—Is this Murder?—Niani calls it “Justice”—Safe! and Free!—Selim pleads to Kalulu—Selim wants Kalulu to go home with him—Simba the Giant pleads—The Head of Tifum the Wicked—They intend going to Ujiji.About three hours before dawn a body of thirty men, under the leadership of Ferodia, made their appearance in the square outside of their sleeping quarters, the garish moonlight revealing them visibly clear. At the same time an equal number issued from the dark, cavernous doors of the tembe, and, after a whispered consultation with the first party, proceeded stealthily across the square to where Soltali lived; while forty men, dividing themselves into two parties, hastened towards the gates. Ferodia, seeing all at their posts, waited a short time, until he saw numbers of dark forms glide into the square, and until he was told that the warriors were pouring in by the two gates; he then proceeded towards the door of Kalulu’s hut, and, after taking a quiet survey of the sleeping forms of Kalulu, Selim, and Abdullah, beckoned to Tifum and the warriors behind him, and suddenly sprang in with a piercing cry of triumph upon the prostrate and unconscious young King, while Tifum sprang upon Selim, and another warrior upon Abdullah.Warrior after warrior poured in, and in a short time the three boys found themselves, while yet not quite recovered from their sleep, hound and helpless prisoners. In the meantime the war-cry of the Watuta, sounded first by Ferodia, was caught up by all the warriors in the square, and was immediately echoed by each new comer, while crowds had hastened to the hut occupied by Simba and Moto, but only to find these wary men prepared for a resolute struggle. Neither Simba nor Moto, however, had had time to load their guns; they could only club them and crush each skull as it ventured into the darkened hut; but the roof was too low for Simba to exert the full power of his strong arm, so that, finally, numbers prevailed, and Simba and Moto found themselves at last prisoners, bound hand and foot.In a short time Ferodia found himself master of the village. The plan had been too well devised, too skilfully carried out, to fail. And each surprised warrior, when that first dreadful cry awoke him from his dreamy sleep, only awoke to find himself in the power of foes relentless and desperate. Every soul in the village was in the power of Ferodia, so that he found himself in the morning with over five thousand slaves—for prisoners of war are always slaves in Central Africa.The chains found in the store-room of the King, which came formerly from the Arab camp near Kwikuru, in Urori, were of use now, and into the strong iron collars attached to them the necks of Kalulu, the two Arab boys, and the most refractory of the captured warriors, were placed; but as there were no locks, or they could not be found, the eyes of the folding iron crescents, which folding together formed the collars, were simply tied together firmly, while the hands of the captives were tightly hound behind. When all were secured with their hands in inexorable bonds behind their backs, they were marched outside by gangs, under chiefs, of ten and twenty warriors. Then the ivory, the cloth, the guns, the powder and bullets, and everything of value, were brought forth and distributed amongst the warriors and conveyed outside at a safe distance from the village.After all these things had been done the torch was applied to every tembe, and in an inconceivably short space of time the whole village was wrapped and encircled by the tongues of destroying flames; the straw, and the oil and butter found stored in the huts, and the resinous, gummy substance of the wood which formed the rafters and palisade, adding intensity to the flames, which were speedily devouring all.While the village—the scene of so much merrymaking, and fun, and innocent frolic, scene of the ceremonies, the rejoicings, which have found place in our history—was thus being ruthlessly destroyed, being rapidly reduced to black ashes, to be as a thing in our memories alone, to become only as a tradition for those unborn, the great sun arose as usual in the east with his usual splendour and grateful benignity to light the second epoch of misery through which Kalulu, Selim, and Abdullah passed, and to guide the footsteps of the enslaved King and Watuta on their way to slavery.Ah! ye, my young readers, surrounded by a halo of kindness and love, by the bloom, the brightness, and the happiness of a civilised life, with which Heaven has favoured you, can ye imagine the deep, indescribable misery in which the high-spirited young King found himself when he thoroughly realised the vast change in his condition that one short night had made in his existence? Assist me, then, with your imaginations; describe him to your own satisfaction, with his feelings all in one wild riot, with his confused senses struggling to picture himself as not having fallen to this state, endeavouring to draw one ray of brightness out of the dark gloom which environed him, and say for him, “God—the good, beneficent, all-seeing God—pity the poor prince and King!” And the author shall say, “Amen, and Amen!”Once cleared of the immediate neighbourhood, the captives were divided. The Wa-marungu, with their gangs of slaves, chose one road, towards Ferodia’s village; the tribe of Meroeni chose another, with their slaves; the Wazavila chose another; while Ferodia, with five hundred warriors driving before them the gangs in which were found those in whom we have become interested, struck for the forest where Kalulu discovered Selim. Ferodia did not trouble the young King nor his friends, nor did Tifum venture near them; they both satisfied themselves from the rear that they were safe.After they had made a wide détour for many days through the forest, and come to a place where there was no road nor any signs of its being inhabited, and having completely baffled pursuit had such been ever made, and when they had made their camp, Ferodia drew near to the gang where Kalulu and his friends were found.Kalulu, as he saw his hated enemy approach, ground his teeth in rage, and foamed at the mouth like one suddenly stricken with madness, while Ferodia burst into a laugh and teased him to further exhibitions of fury, saying:“That is right, my little crow-cock, shake thy wings, fan the air with them, and utter a lusty crow, that the fish-eagles, whose screams I hear from yonder swamps, may try and vie with thee. I have wrung a boastful cock’s head ere this, and Tifum has too. Hast thou not, Tifum?”“That have I done, my King!” answered that servile follower, who was close behind him.“Thou hearest, Kalulu, what Tifum says;” and, turning to Tifum, he asked, “Dost thou think, Tifum, thou couldst wring Kalulu’s neck for me, and do it deftly and neatly?”“Try me, O King, nothing could please me better,” answered Tifum, with a significant glance at Kalulu.“Kalulu’s neck is slender, not much thicker than a grass stalk. Thou canst easily do it, I think, if thou wilt bury thy hand in those long, gay braids of his. Thou shalt try thy hand on him to-morrow.” Advancing closer to him, he struck the boy in the chest with the butt of his spear. “Dost thou hear, boy!” But he did not retreat quickly enough, for the lithe form of Kalulu shot out and flung itself against him, and the boy’s teeth were buried in Ferodia’s neck, and he had surely strangled him had not Tifum, lifting his spear, struck him a mighty blow full on the spinal column, which almost paralysed Kalulu.“Thou fiend, and leopard’s whelp, thou shalt die by torture to-morrow at break of day; meantime thou shalt see Soltali burning for daring to make thee King of the Watuta, and while he is burning thou shalt be stretched until thy limbs crack;” and thus saying, the angry chief strode away, rubbing his neck and fuming with passion, and gave orders that a fire should be built near a large tree, and that old Soltali should be brought forth.In a few minutes a great fire was sparkling and roaring at the foot of the central tree in the camp, and old Soltali was brought forth before Ferodia.“False mganga, seest thou you tree and that fire?” asked Ferodia.“I see it, Ferodia,” answered the old man.“There shalt thou burn, and thy accursed ashes shall remain there to blacken and curse that tree, under which perished a false magician. Ho, Tifum! quick. Bring Kalulu here first, stretch him on this ground, with his face turned towards the magician, and let us see if Soltali’s black art will save Kalulu from the pain he suffers, or himself from the fire.”Kalulu was at once brought forth, and though he bit, and struggled, and kicked, he was pressed to the ground by overwhelming numbers, and four men tied cords to his limbs and began to draw them, until it seemed as if the young body would be torn asunder; after which the cords were fastened round pegs driven deep into the ground.Then the brutish Ferodia used the staff of his spear on his body, and, taunting him, bade him look up and see the false mganga, who had made him King, burning in the fire.The gang to which Selim, Abdullah, Simba, and Moto were chained was brought up and huddled together close to Kalulu. Soltali was dragged to the fire, and was tied to the tree; and the fire was pushed close to his feet, and new wood piled on it, and the smoke began to rise, and presently changed into flame.Then Soltali, finding the flames begin to scorch and burn him, raised his right hand and shouted out with all the strength of his feeble voice, saying:“Hearken, thou Ferodia, and ye savage Watuta. Ye think to triumph now, and make Ferodia king; but the will of the Sky-spirit must be done. Soltali had not made Kalulu king had it not been his will; Soltali obeyed but the voice of the Sky-spirit. Thou hast triumphed only for a time, Ferodia. Kalulu shall be king, must be king. Thou shalt see a bitter end, O Ferodia, to which my sufferings may not be compared; and thou, Tifum, shalt have thy head taken from off thy body, and the kite and the vulture shall pick out thine eyes. Moshono, who was burnt by the Wa-marungu, calls to Soltali. Soltali goes before thee, Tifum; and thou shalt follow me, O Ferodia. I come, great Moshono, I come. Mosh—”Before he could utter the last word Soltali’s aged head fell upon his breast, while still the flames leaped up and embraced him with their fiery arms, until, finally, the green bark cords which bound him shrivelled up and snapped beneath the weight of the superincumbent mass, and Soltali’s body fell forward, while the sparks were shot up and the flames blazed anew. The warriors hastened to pile up wood, but Selim and Abdullah turned their faces away, unable to bear the horrid scene.Ferodia turned to Kalulu and said, “To-morrow thou shalt die, as sure as Soltali has died. To-night lie where thou art, and when the sun rises be thou prepared to follow him. Tifum shall try his hand on thee.”“Ah, Ferodia, thou hast heard the voice of the good Soltali. The Sky-spirit has said I shall be king. Look to thyself, for I shall kill thee yet. Thou robber, cutthroat, and coward, dost thou hear me?” cried Kalulu.“Talk away, and crow, my little cockling. Talk as long as thou canst, if it give thee any comfort. Nay, thou mayst burst thyself with talking if thereby thou wilt ease thyself, but to-morrow Tifum shall cut thy head off, and I will get strong medicine out of it. I have said it.”So saying Ferodia walked away, but Tifum could not refrain from going up to Kalulu. He encircled his neck with his hand, and, giving it a gentle pressure, said:“Ah, Kalulu, to-morrow my knife shall sever that head of thine from thy body. The pain will soon be over, for Tifum’s knife is sharp, and I will sharpen it still more, Kalulu, to-night, so that thou mayst suffer but little pain. Am I not good, Kalulu? I shall boil those cheeks of thine with my porridge, and think as I eat them how often they were patted by the silly old King Katalambula. Sleep in peace to-night, Kalulu. Sleep well, for it will be thy last night’s sleep. Farewell!”“Stay, Tifum Byah, stay one moment,” cried Kalulu gently, as if he dearly loved the wretch. “Didst thou hear Soltali’s words?”“Ay, certainly I did. Am I deaf?” asked Tifum.“Dost thou not fear the fate Soltali promised thee?” asked Kalulu, with mock earnestness.“I fear a mad old man’s ravings! Tifum the Wicked fear what Soltali said! Bah, bah; sleep, Kalulu, go to sleep.”“But stay one moment and hear me. Kalulu shall be King over the Watuta, and he will take thy head off surely, and give it to the Kituta dogs. Come here and bend thy head, closer, I wish to tell thee something,” said Kalulu, as he nodded with his head. “There, so! How dost thou like—” but that moment Kalulu buried his sharp teeth in Tifum’s cheeks, and held on with the tenacity of a bull-dog, while Tifum, uttering a shrill cry of pain, could only release himself by clutching the boy’s neck and strangling him to unconsciousness. Tifum’s face bore a frightful wound, for the teeth, filed into a point in front, according to the customs of the Ututa, had bitten a piece clean out, leaving the cheek-bone exposed, which quite spoiled what beauty he had for ever.As he felt the havoc made in his cheek the man uttered a frightful howl, and seized a spear-staff and began to belabour the unconscious boy. He probably would have beaten him to death had not Ferodia appeared and ordered him to desist, and to reserve his revenge for the morrow, when he might take it in full.It was difficult to restrain the infuriated man, while his whole head tingled with the most exquisite pain; but then Ferodia was King, and a King’s commands must be obeyed even though his whole body ached, and he at last turned away moaning over his wound.Soltali, the Mganga, was more feared when dead than when alive, it seemed, for while his body was being rapidly consumed the people had begun to move their camp a few yards off, none daring to erect his hut near the awful ashes of the magician, and as night came, with its sombre shades filling the whole forest with almost palpable darkness, and thick, dark, formless shadows, it was noticeable that they still further retreated from the death tree, and whispered to each other their belief that Soltali’s spirit was in the tree, with great angry eyes of fire, looking down at the camp. Thus the mortal ashes of the old doctor, whom they had so cruelly murdered, were left alone by the superstitious people, and Kalulu, helplessly stretched near by, was the only living being within fifty yards of the dread embers which covered the remains of Soltali.Tifum the Wicked, too much engrossed with the pain of his wound, had seen nothing of this movement, for he had retired to his hut, with his head close to the door to breathe the cool air of the night. In his hut were the spoils from Katalambula’s village, which his own particular slaves had carried for him. Among these were two bales of cloth, ten fine ivory tusks, a keg of powder, a bag of bullets, three or four guns, and, singular as it might seem, was Selim’s gun, the Joe Manton which Sheikh Amer had purchased for his son, through his Bombay agent. This accident may be attributed to Tifum’s cupidity, who had appropriated this gun as his own, on seeing that it was of a superior class to all others, as well as the belt, which contained a large supply of ammunition. Ferodia would very probably have appropriated such a fine weapon for himself had he not been so occupied with the extent of his success and fortune.The night grew deeper and more sombre. Melancholy sounds were heard at intervals through the forest, and the superstitious warriors ascribed these to the restlessness of the spirit of Soltali, consequently they huddled into their huts, forgot the cravings of their stomachs, and sought in the cosy warm huts a temporary oblivion from their fears and superstitious troubles, and, as the night got still more aged, even moaning Tifum became tranquil and slept.When the camp had become as still as though no five hundred warriors with strong lungs and a healthy capacity for noise within them slept in that darkness, Niani’s light, active, boyish form, who hitherto has been unnecessarily neglected, began to move from the neighbourhood of a fire where, along with other slaves, he had curled himself to rest, but not to sleep, in the direction of the slave-gang to which his master, Selim, Abdullah, gigantic Simba, and Moto belonged. The pale-coloured forms of the two Arab boys were clearly discernible, and choosing the tallest, he crept up to him, and gently placing his hand over the mouth of Selim, whom he rightly judged it to be, he bent his head low down to his ear.“I am Niani, your slave; be still, master. I have come to save you, for I have heard Tifum swear that to-morrow you shall die with Kalulu. Hush! I have my knife. I shall cut your bonds, and those of your friends, and we shall all go away far.” So saying Niani released his hand, and with his knife parted the hark rope that fastened the iron collar, and in a second Selim felt his neck free from the ignominious chain.Niani crept to Abdullah, and performed the same kindness for him upon the express condition that he should lie still until the hint was given to rise. From Abdullah Niani crept to Simba, and told that wondering giant who he was, and why he was there. Simba understood at once, and slightly turned over that Niani might cut the bonds which confined his hands behind his back, and raised his head that he might be released from the collar. Moto’s turn came next, and in a short time he was also free. Each head was now touched, and they at once rose and followed Niani past the sleeping forms, by the fires, and past the open huts confidently, but still quietly, until they came behind the fatal tree at whose base lay the ashes of poor old Soltali.“Now, Master Selim, speak, what is to be done?” asked little Niani in a low voice.“Let Simba and Moto answer; but we must not go without Kalulu, for rather than go without him I will go back and die with him.”“I don’t intend to go either without him,” said Abdullah. “I would count it a deed worthy of paradise to die with him, and by his side. Here, give me the knife, I will go and cut his bonds.”“No, no, master,” said Simba, “I want to go back for a particular purpose, besides rescuing Kalulu. Thou, Moto, stay here, and if any alarm is made, then do thou run east, and in the morning turn south. Here, Niani, come with me. Give me that knife.”They both disappeared on the other side of the tree, and Simba, crawling on his hands and knees, followed by Niani, made towards where Kalulu lay stretched in anguish of body and mind. When he had advanced sufficiently near, Simba whispered the boy’s name with a warning—“Hush!”Simba was presently close to Kalulu; and, after informing him of his purpose, soon freed him from his painful position, and Kalulu sat up, though feeling almost too sore and cramped to move.Simba waited patiently for the first feeling of numbness to wear away, then whispered to him:“Kalulu, dost thou remember Soltali’s words? Soltali said that Tifum’s head should be taken from off his body. I am going to take it now. Wilt thou come?”The instant these words were suggested all feeling of soreness vanished, and the boy sprang up and was about to shout his gladness, when the big hand of Simba was placed over his mouth, and he whispered:“Nay, not a word, not a breath, as thou dost value our lives. Our friends are behind that tree; they are waiting for us. Thou must obey me now, if success is what thou dost hope for.”Kalulu clasped his hand, and understood at once what was necessary, and followed Simba, who was preceded by Niani, without further remark.When near Tifum Byah’s hut Niani, who was as cunning as the nature of the mammal from whom he derived his name, stopped, and pointed silently to the hut, which stood alone and removed a good distance from any other that was inhabited.Simba turned to Kalulu, and, handing him the knife which he had received from Niani, whispered to him: “Stay here silent as a dead tree, until thou dost hear my signal,” to which a nod of the head only was given for reply.“Now, Tifum the Wicked,” whispered the resolute mind of Simba to itself, “it is either I or thou; I think thou. Selim’s stripes have to be paid for with thy blood; if not Selim’s, then Kalulu’s wrongs. But how can I ever pay thee for all? Sheikh Amer, my master; poor Isa; little Mussoud;” and the busy mind fanned itself into a white heat of anger, and churned the deep hate into a white foam of fury; and the Nemesis, in the form of this mighty, big-muscled man, stood over him, Tifum the Wicked. The great form bent, and suddenly drooped, with two great bony, sinewy hands clutching the sleeping man’s throat, crushing, compressing bone, gristle, sinew, and vein into a soft, yielding, pulpy mass, until there was no breath of life nor power of motion left in him.All had been done so quietly—the deed of stern vengeance so quickly, coolly executed, that Kalulu started with surprise as he heard the signal; he could hardly believe it to have been consummated, yet he advanced determinedly, as if his help was to be needed. Think of Simba needing help for such an ordinary creature as Tifum.“Cut it off!” said Simba, and Kalulu, nothing loth, bent down and severed the head off without one remorseful pang, and the body of Tifum was headless; and the prediction of Soltali had become thus soon verified.Simba and Kalulu were about to move off, when Niani stepped up and whispered:“The guns in his hut!”“Ah, true,” and Simba turned round and gave Niani a couple of guns, to Kalulu he gave one, he reserved one for himself, then went into the hut, found the powder bag, the load of bullets and ammunition; snatched a bow, a quiver full of arrows, a couple of spears, and a long Arab sword, which Tifum had also appropriated, and with the booty, too valuable to be measured at a money value for such an expedition as he now proposed to himself, he withdrew as silently as he had come.Once at the tree the guns were distributed, one to Abdullah, one to Moto, the “Joe Manton” to Selim, who hugged it to his heart, while Simba retained another. To Kalulu he gave a spear with the bow, and a quiver full of arrows. Niani got another spear, while he also received the precious powder-keg to carry. Simba carried the bullets and sword. Kalulu still carried the ghastly load, but nothing was said to any of the others of the deed that was done. Simba merely said “Come,” and the five followed him obediently.“Four hours more of night till dawn,” said Simba, after they had got a little distance off. “We must march south. Come.”In a hard, dry, trackless forest, when once a fugitive escapes it becomes impossible to find him. Had Kalulu not taken the precaution to strip himself of his cloth, and place the head of Tifum in it, it is probable that the fugitives might have been pursued; but there was no clue to the direction they had taken, for five hundred warriors had trodden the ground all around while hunting for fruit, or sticks, or water for cooking, the day before, even if the hard drouthy ground might have received the impression of a few men’s naked feet. And the natural questions the warriors would ask themselves and each other in the morning would be, “Which way have they gone? Is it north, south, east, or west? or any other of the lesser or intermediate points?” to which, of course, no definite answer could be given; while the more superstitious would say, “Ah! it is Soltali who has taken them away!” and would fear to leave their fellows.Simba, Moto, and Kalulu knew this, and though they journeyed fast, they journeyed confidently. But, as each of the party was busy with his own thoughts, no words were exchanged until it was grey morning, and day had more power to pierce the gloom of the forest than the old moon, which but faintly showed them their way before morning, when Selim saw some mysterious bundle in Kalulu’s hand, and asked him what it was.“Don’t ask now, Selim, my brother, we must march,” said Kalulu, and nothing more was said until at nine o’clock they stopped at a swamp to refresh themselves with water, when Kalulu setting down his bundle to drink, the cloth fell off one side, and exposed the head of a man.“Allah!” ejaculated Selim, profoundly astonished; “what is this?” and Abdullah also cried out in astonishment the same words.“What should it be, my brothers, but the head of Tifum the Wicked?” asked Kalulu.“But this is murder, is it not?” asked Selim, aghast at the unsightly and livid head.“Murder!” echoed Simba; “I think not, young master. It may be with thy people, but with Kalulu cut off his head. Was Tifum not going to cut off Kalulu’s head?—and perhaps thine, for he hated thee enough, Allah knows.”“Yes,” said Niani, “I heard Tifum swear he would do it.”“Well, but he did not do it, and I am sorry, Simba, thou hast thus needlessly taken life,” said Selim, with difficulty repressing a shudder.“Selim, son of Amer, permit Simba, the Mrundi, to ask thee if thou hast already forgotten thy dead father, thy kinsmen, thine own miseries? Say, where is Isa? Where is little Mussoud? How was Abdullah treated? What became of Kalulu, thy friend? Where is Soltali? What has become of the village of Katalambula? I tell thee, young master, that if an Arab boy can so soon forget these, I, a Mrundi, cannot; and were Tifum the Wicked possessed of a thousand lives, I would take a life of his at every opportunity. What sayest thou, Moto, my friend? Have I not said well?”“Quite right, my brother Simba, I should have done the same; and I am only sorry it fell to thy lot to take his life, because I should like to have taken it myself,” answered Moto promptly.“What sayest thou, Kalulu?” asked Simba of the young chief.“Here is my answer,” answered Kalulu, pointing to the head, which he picked up and tossed into the air, smiling as the head fell on its nose.“What sayest thou, Abdullah? thou who art an Arab, and the son of an Arab?” asked Simba.“The Küran says: ‘And if thy enemy depart not from thee, and offer thee peace, and restrain his hand from warring against thee, take him and hill him wheresoever thou dost find him, for over him God has granted the true believer a manifest power’ Since the prophet Mohammed (blessed be his name) speaks on thy side, Simba, far be it from Abdullah, son of Sheikh Mohammed, to say thou hast done wrong in this fearful thing. I think thou hast done right,” answered Abdullah gravely.“Then, if the Küran says so, I, Selim, son of Amer, am convinced thou hast done right,” said Selim, as he hastened up, and, with an apologetic look, begged Simba’s pardon.“I, Niani, the mtuma (slave) of Selim, the son of Amer, do pronounce that Simba did right,” cried the little negro, with an assurance which made all smile, and for a moment forget their previous mood.“But what art thou going to do with the head, Keklu?” asked Selim.“I am going to take medicine from it,” replied Kalulu, “to make my arm strong against Ferodia, when we get to the camp,” folding it up in the cloth again as he spoke.“Ah, don’t, Kalulu, for my sake,” pleaded Selim with earnest eyes; “don’t, it is bad; only the lowest and most degraded do that. Cast the ugly thing away, and let it be food for the fowls of the air and the beasts of prey.”“It has been the custom of the Watuta to do such things, and if I do not do it Kalulu will never be king,” replied the young chief, resolutely moving forward.“It has been the custom of the Warundi too, and of all the tribes around here that I have met,” said Simba. “Let Kalulu do as he will with it, young master.”“But thou art a Moslem, Simba; thou art not a Mrundi infidel now;” urged Selim, whose feelings revolted at such a degraded idea.“Ay, I am a Moslem in name, but a Mrundi in heart, master; and when I think of all that Tifum the Wicked has done, and would have done, I myself should like to take medicine from it,” replied Simba, with a vengeful look.“But Simba,” said Abdullah, “the Küran says we ‘are forbidden to eat that which dieth of itself, and blood, and swine’s flesh, and that on which the name of any beside God hath been invoked, and that which hath been strangled.’”“Al Forkan” (the Küran) “is a holy book, Simba, that may not be disregarded, and he that turneth his back to it shall surely perish,” added Selim.“I am not going to eat Tifum’s head; the Warundi do not eat men. They only take medicine from them; but if the good book says it is wicked, I give you my word I shall not do it,” responded Simba. “But let us march, we have no time to talk,” and setting the example, by vigorous strides, he induced the little party to strain themselves to keep up with him; and from this time until sunset there were few words exchanged, except a remark now and then upon some exceptional feature of the forest through which they were travelling.At sunset the fugitives were obliged to halt, and seeing a dense jungle clump before them, they sought an opening which led to it, which they presently discovered, narrow and a little inconvenient, but it led them into a delicious and secure resting-place. The camp, which they now intended to make, was surrounded by an impenetrable hedge, about fifty feet thick and about twelve feet high, of thorn and cactus, aloetic plants, convolvuli, all-interlacing, embracing, twining round each other, each leaf, or twig, or branch armed at all points with a myriad thorns, through which a boa-constrictor might in vain attempt to pass, a man never, were he armed in triple steel, least of all a rude savage; while inside was soft, green, silken grass, and a small circular depression in its centre like a “buffalo-wallow,” which contained water. Could anything have been more tempting than this? Surely not. Had the most cunning Moto devised the best protection he could, he had never conceived anything more formidable against naked man or beast! And the two Arab boys laughed merrily, and rubbed their hands together, as they thought how secure they were.Simba, who had assumed the leadership, as though leadership was an everyday thing to him, looking around, said:“We are safe. No Watuta can find us here, but we are short of food, and boys become hungry soon. In the morning we must look for food, as we journey south. What dost thou think, Moto? is this forest likely to last much longer?”“I know not, friend Simba. I should think not; but the minute it becomes thinner and more open we shall see game,” replied that clever woodsman, with so much confidence that Selim, Abdullah, and Niani began to smack their lips, as if they already tasted the luscious, juicy meat of fat game.“Simba, I know this forest well,” cried Kalulu; “but before I say anything about it, I must know where thou dost intend to go.”“Ah! where?” asked Simba, looking at Moto, and speaking in a tone which was more of a doleful echo than a question.“Where?” said Moto, in the same tone, looking at Simba.“I must know,” said Kalulu. “We are far from pursuit now. Ferodia might as well look for the honey-bird, hiding his head in a hole, as look for us. Speak, Simba and Moto, where do ye both intend to go?”“Answer thou, young chief,” replied Simba and Moto, together.“I? Well, let it be so,” he answered. “I mean to return towards the east, through the forest, and then turn up north and west, and seek out every man left of my tribe, and make war against Ferodia. Make war on the traitorous thief, until every man that lifted spear in his cause shall be even as this carrion is,” (pointing to the chilled head of Tifum). “War, until all my enemies shall fall, and be utterly destroyed as the dry grass of the summer is destroyed by a fire. That is what I intend beginning to do at sunrise to-morrow;” and as the young chief said the last few words he sprang to his feet, and dashed his spear deep into the now unoffending head of Tifum the Wicked, and his whole body quivered with the fury that animated him.While he was thus imagining that he had already his enemies low at his feet, he felt a soft touch on his shoulder, and as he turned his head around he saw the gentle, winning face of Selim turned up to him with pleading eyes, and heard him say:“Kalulu, thou art still the King of the Watuta to us; sit down quiet by my side, like, my brother Abdullah and little Niani here, and listen to what thy brother Selim has to say.”The friendship he entertained for Selim came to the aid of the Arab boy, and this, together with the kindly tones and sympathising eyes turned towards him, completely subdued him, and he sat down, and for the first time, to our knowledge, Kalulu wept. Selim’s tender heart could not bear the proud young chief’s tears, and he also wept out of sheer sympathy.“Kalulu,” said Selim, when he had conquered this feeling, and could command firmness of voice, “when I was dying of hunger in the forest thou didst come to my aid, and, pitying me, a friendship grew in thy heart towards me, and when I opened mine eyes, and saw thy large black eyes rest on me with so much pity, so much love in them for me, who until then was as one doomed to die a lingering death, was as an outcast from Nature, I learned to love thee as my brother. The blood ceremony was made, and I gladly became a brother to thee. When I was in the village, and I felt Tifum’s heavy hand on me, with the cruel order of Ferodia ringing in my ears, thou didst again come like a good angel to my aid; and in my heart I blessed God and thee. When Abdullah struggled in the dark waters, and the greedy crocodile snapped him by the leg, and drew him down out of sight, down into the depths, I cried out in my agony, ‘Oh, save him!’ and thou, ever our good angel, didst leap into the depths, and far out of sight thou didst grapple with the monster, and in a short time didst bring him—Abdullah—back to life and to his friend. When thou wert made king, and thou hadst power of life and death over an immense multitude of warriors given unto thee, I did ask thee for permission to go to my own home at Zanzibar, to lift the veil of sorrow from my mother’s eyes, and thou didst promise to give me wealth, and abundance, and men under thine own command to protect me on the way. But evil days came. Ferodia, like a thief in the night, came with a great number of men; they took thy power from thee, made thyself, and ourselves, and thy people prisoners and slaves. They bound thee, and made thee—a king—also a slave; and until last night thou wert in bonds, and yesterday thou wert beaten like the meanest, and to-day’s sun was to rise on thy corpse. But Niani—good Niani, whom I believed to be created only for mischief and fun—rose in the night, and delivered us all from the power of Ferodia; and we are all here safe from our enemies, and free once more. Allah be praised for ever!”Kalulu was sobbing violently, and Selim, when he heard his sobs, could hardly refrain from joining him, but, conquering the feeling with an effort, he continued:“Kalulu, my brother, it is but a little thing that I am going to ask of thee, yet if thou wilt but grant it me, thou wilt make Selim happy—ay, happier even than when thou didst whisper the sweet words in my ear—‘Thou art free! Thou art my brother!’ I fear to ask it of thee, lest thou wouldst hurt me with a refusal.”“Speak, Selim; what can Kalulu do for thee? Have I not told thee long ago thou hast but to command me. Yet what have I to give thee? Was not Kalulu a slave yesterday? Ha! ha! what has a slave to give?” and the young chief laughed bitterly.“Thou hast more to give me than ever thou didst possess, Kalulu. Wilt thou promise it me what I shall ask.”“Thou art but mocking me; but I give thee my promise, and a promise is not broken lightly by a Mtuta chief,” Kalulu answered.“Then listen, O my brother! At Zanzibar I have a beautiful home; and all around it are trees, great trees, like those in the forest, heavy with yellow globes of sweetness, called oranges, others borne down with great fruit larger than the matonga (Nux vomica) of the forest, which are sweeter than honey, and are called mangoes; and there are tall trees, called palms, which bear nuts large as thy head, full of milky wine, so refreshing when thou art thirsty, that thou wilt recall the time when thy mother suckled thee, and laughed at the greediness of her bright, baby boy; and there are numbers of others, which give both fruit to fill a man’s spirit with delight, and others to give perfume, which, when a man inhales it, his senses become suffused with pleasure; and as for the vegetables which my fields and gardens furnish, there is nothing in all ututa, or the lands adjoining, to compare with them. There are squashes, and pumpkins, and melons, blue and purple egg-plants, cucumbers, chick-peas, and beans, yams, sweet potatoes, white and yellow tomatoes, and plaintains, and bananas, and numbers of things thou dost not dream of. And then my house—ah! there is nothing like it in all Negro-land; it is as high as the tallest tree, and as large almost as the great square of thy Tillage, all of white stone; the floors, instead of being of earth or of sand, are of white stone, smooth and shining as the stillest, whitest water thou hast ever seen; and the beds are of down and of finest, whitest cloth, which when thou dost rest thy body upon them will cause thee to sleep and forget all troubles; and from the upper doors, which we call windows in Arab land, thine eyes rest upon the great blue sea, and the laughing wares, which murmur of love, and beauty, and pleasure all the day. It is to this beautiful home I invite thee, my brother. It is to these scenes of holy love, and God’s beauty, which He has given to me, that I wish to take thee; and to my dear mother, who will be to thee as she is to me; who will love thee for what thou hast done for her child, as she loves her own son; to my beautiful mother, whose face is as white as yon white cloud, and as beautiful as the moon, I wish thee to come. Say, Kalulu, wilt thou come, and share my sweet mother’s love with me? Say, wilt thou come, and let me show thee the wonders of Zanzibar?”Kalulu answered not; he never ceased sobbing while Selim spoke; he seemed loth to give the answer in the affirmative, yet he remembered his promise, and he remembered it was Selim who was asking him a favour. A few seconds, therefore, passed in this silence; but when it was finally broken it was by Simba’s deep voice, who said:“Those are wise words, young chief, that Master Selim has spoken. Neither Moto nor I could have thought of them; but the boy’s heart has spoken wiser words than Simba and Moto’s heads together could have spoken. Young chief, thou shalt yet be King of Ututa; but it will be better first that thou goest to Zanzibar, where thine eyes may see strange things, and thy head learn wisdom. I, Simba, a servant of Selim, could not have invited thee to Zanzibar, because Simba has but a very little hut, not bigger than a camp-cote, where the hunter has to coil himself up like a serpent. My hut would then have been no place for the King of the Watuta; but Master Selim has got a big house, bigger than any king’s house in Negro-land; he has numbers of servants, cattle, goats, donkeys, gardens, fields, and fruit-trees, and his riches are beyond my knowledge. Oh! I see light and hope now, young chief. I know what is best for all of us. I know how thou, by going to Zanzibar, may come to Ututa a greater king than Loralamba even. I’ll tell thee how. Through the aid of Selim thou wilt become acquainted with numbers of rich Arabs, whom thou wilt like when thou wilt know them better. They are good men at heart, though some are bad, as there are bad men everywhere. This acquaintance will benefit thee and them, for after thou shalt have rested a year or two at Zanzibar, thou wilt be able to induce them to come with thee to thine own country, when for their aid to set thee in thy rights, thou wilt be able to give them back the Arab slaves Ferodia took at Kwikuru, and give them ivory in abundance; and they will make thee rich in cloth and fine things: thou wilt by that time, through the knowledge of such things obtained at Zanzibar, be able to judge of what is good, and what is bad; thou wilt be able to build thy villages strong against every attack of evil men, to conquer Ferodia, and every tribe round about, to make thy country great, so there will be none other like unto it; so that thy name and glory be sung in all the corners of the earth. To be a great king thou must teach thyself and learn many things; and this thou canst do by going to Zanzibar. I have said it.”Then Kalulu, impulsive youth that he was, sprang up and cried, “Enough, Selim, thou hadst almost persuaded me; but Simba has conquered me. I shall go to Zanzibar, I shall learn how to be a great king, and I shall come back to Ututa a strong, big man like thou, Simba; then let Ferodia look to himself. Let him live upon the fatness of the land. Let him enjoy his gains until Kalulu comes back, then by Soltali’s ashes, by the grave of Mostana, by the black ruins of Katalambula’s village, I shall have fullest revenge. I have spoken.”“Good—good—good,” cried all at once, and Selim sprang up and embraced him, while Simba and Moto took each a hand and shook it eagerly, while little Niani jumped and hopped about as though he were a real monkey, whereas he was only a monkey in name, and Abdullah, after Selim released him, insisted also upon the same right to embrace him, and promised upon the Küran to come back with him to Watuta and see him righted. There was such joy in the little camp, closed in by that impenetrable jungle hedge, such as we are certain was never seen before, and never will be seen there again.“There is one other little thing I should like to see Kalulu do,” said Selim, smiling, but looking on the ground nevertheless.“What? anything else for me to do? Well, I will do it. Speak,” replied Kalulu, lifting Selim’s head up with his hand so that he could see his face.“Thou art so good, Kalulu, to promise me so many things before thou knowest what it is I am going to ask. Thou knowest that I am very timid and fearful, and I could not sleep to-night quietly with that ugly head so near me, and—”Kalulu rose immediately, and taking hold of the head by the hair, he tossed it into the middle of the jungle hedge, where, rolling through a little, it remained fixed in the forks of a thorn-bush situated exactly in the middle of the hedge, where it was more effectively buried safer from all living creatures than were it buried ten feet deep in the earth.“Good—good,” cried Abdullah and Selim, really more rejoiced and feeling safer from Tifum than they liked to confess.“Now,” said Simba, when each person’s feelings were calmed, “let us talk of other matters. Kalulu, thou knowest this country. How can we get away to Zanzibar?”“But where is Zanzibar?” asked Kalulu, surprised.“It ought to be east directly from here, just where the sun rises every morning,” answered Simba.“I can show the way to Urori; but what lies beyond Urori I do not know,” said Kalulu.“We are too small a party to be able to go through Uhehe alone,” said Simba. “That won’t do. What do you suggest, Moto?” he asked of his friend.“If I were anywhere on the track of the traders,” answered that wise and cautions old hunter, “I would soon find out. If I were in Marungu or in Usowa I could soon tell. Did I not hear thee say, Kalulu, that there lay a lake, a large body of water somewhere about here?”“Yes, Lake Liemba; there is no end to it. It runs towards the north,” replied Kalulu.“Lake Liemba! Liemba!” said Moto to himself, like one trying to remember whether he had ever heard the name before. “I never heard of Liemba that I know of. I have been on Lake Tanganika several times in going from Ujiji to—”“Ujiji!” said Kalulu, in a surprised tone. “Ujiji! I never heard the Watuta travellers talk about the Tanganika; but I have always heard that Ujiji was on Liemba, not far from Usowa, but further up.”“Wallahi!” shouted Moto. “Then Lake Tanganika is only another name for Lake Liemba, for Ujiji is on Lake Tanganika, and Usowa is only a few days south of Ujiji. First after Ujiji there is Kawendi; then we come to Usowa; and after that is Uwemba—no, not Uwemba—Ufipa; and after Ufipa, Uwemba; then we always went straight to Marungu.”“If thou canst go from Ujiji to Marungu, then,” said Kalulu, “or to Wemba or Usowa, the road is easy, if thou knowest the road from Ujiji to Zanzibar.”“Ah! don’t I?” answered Moto, in a triumphant tone. “I will find the road from Ujiji to Zanzibar. I have travelled the road five times from Ujiji to Zanzibar, and I ought to know it. I have been guide to Sayd bin Hashid from Unyanyembe to Ujiji; but there is a better and nearer road to Zanzibar from Fipa to Usowa; then to Ukorongo and Unyanyembe.”“Well, then,” said Simba, “what we have got to do is to reach this lake, whence it is easy to reach Ufipa or Usowa, and from thence to Unyanyembe, after which it will be easy to get to Zanzibar.”“I know the road to the Lake,” said Kalulu, “for I was on the lake some moons ago. It ought to lie just where you saw the sun set to-night about twenty days’ march from here. But between us and this lake is Ferodia’s country. We should go a week further this way (pointing to the south), then turn round and go up, slowly towards the lake.”“Ngema—Ngema” (good, good), all cried delighted.“To-morrow we will continue the journey south, and after a week we will pick our way toward this lake, and Inshallah! we shall see Zanzibar within five moons from now,” said Simba.“And to-morrow we shall get food—Inshallah!” said Moto.“Inshallah, Inshallah!” all the Moslems cried.They now proceeded to divide their ammunition, the powder and the bullets for Simba and Moto and Abdullah; while Selim, on inspecting his cartridge-bag, found a box with a thousand caps and one hundred bullets for his “Joe Manton.” Kalulu employed himself in examining the string of his bow; while Niani, seeing everybody else examine his weapon, thought he might as well follow their example, and began to look at the blade of his spear in a wise manner, and delighted everybody with the news that it was sharp.

About three hours before dawn a body of thirty men, under the leadership of Ferodia, made their appearance in the square outside of their sleeping quarters, the garish moonlight revealing them visibly clear. At the same time an equal number issued from the dark, cavernous doors of the tembe, and, after a whispered consultation with the first party, proceeded stealthily across the square to where Soltali lived; while forty men, dividing themselves into two parties, hastened towards the gates. Ferodia, seeing all at their posts, waited a short time, until he saw numbers of dark forms glide into the square, and until he was told that the warriors were pouring in by the two gates; he then proceeded towards the door of Kalulu’s hut, and, after taking a quiet survey of the sleeping forms of Kalulu, Selim, and Abdullah, beckoned to Tifum and the warriors behind him, and suddenly sprang in with a piercing cry of triumph upon the prostrate and unconscious young King, while Tifum sprang upon Selim, and another warrior upon Abdullah.

Warrior after warrior poured in, and in a short time the three boys found themselves, while yet not quite recovered from their sleep, hound and helpless prisoners. In the meantime the war-cry of the Watuta, sounded first by Ferodia, was caught up by all the warriors in the square, and was immediately echoed by each new comer, while crowds had hastened to the hut occupied by Simba and Moto, but only to find these wary men prepared for a resolute struggle. Neither Simba nor Moto, however, had had time to load their guns; they could only club them and crush each skull as it ventured into the darkened hut; but the roof was too low for Simba to exert the full power of his strong arm, so that, finally, numbers prevailed, and Simba and Moto found themselves at last prisoners, bound hand and foot.

In a short time Ferodia found himself master of the village. The plan had been too well devised, too skilfully carried out, to fail. And each surprised warrior, when that first dreadful cry awoke him from his dreamy sleep, only awoke to find himself in the power of foes relentless and desperate. Every soul in the village was in the power of Ferodia, so that he found himself in the morning with over five thousand slaves—for prisoners of war are always slaves in Central Africa.

The chains found in the store-room of the King, which came formerly from the Arab camp near Kwikuru, in Urori, were of use now, and into the strong iron collars attached to them the necks of Kalulu, the two Arab boys, and the most refractory of the captured warriors, were placed; but as there were no locks, or they could not be found, the eyes of the folding iron crescents, which folding together formed the collars, were simply tied together firmly, while the hands of the captives were tightly hound behind. When all were secured with their hands in inexorable bonds behind their backs, they were marched outside by gangs, under chiefs, of ten and twenty warriors. Then the ivory, the cloth, the guns, the powder and bullets, and everything of value, were brought forth and distributed amongst the warriors and conveyed outside at a safe distance from the village.

After all these things had been done the torch was applied to every tembe, and in an inconceivably short space of time the whole village was wrapped and encircled by the tongues of destroying flames; the straw, and the oil and butter found stored in the huts, and the resinous, gummy substance of the wood which formed the rafters and palisade, adding intensity to the flames, which were speedily devouring all.

While the village—the scene of so much merrymaking, and fun, and innocent frolic, scene of the ceremonies, the rejoicings, which have found place in our history—was thus being ruthlessly destroyed, being rapidly reduced to black ashes, to be as a thing in our memories alone, to become only as a tradition for those unborn, the great sun arose as usual in the east with his usual splendour and grateful benignity to light the second epoch of misery through which Kalulu, Selim, and Abdullah passed, and to guide the footsteps of the enslaved King and Watuta on their way to slavery.

Ah! ye, my young readers, surrounded by a halo of kindness and love, by the bloom, the brightness, and the happiness of a civilised life, with which Heaven has favoured you, can ye imagine the deep, indescribable misery in which the high-spirited young King found himself when he thoroughly realised the vast change in his condition that one short night had made in his existence? Assist me, then, with your imaginations; describe him to your own satisfaction, with his feelings all in one wild riot, with his confused senses struggling to picture himself as not having fallen to this state, endeavouring to draw one ray of brightness out of the dark gloom which environed him, and say for him, “God—the good, beneficent, all-seeing God—pity the poor prince and King!” And the author shall say, “Amen, and Amen!”

Once cleared of the immediate neighbourhood, the captives were divided. The Wa-marungu, with their gangs of slaves, chose one road, towards Ferodia’s village; the tribe of Meroeni chose another, with their slaves; the Wazavila chose another; while Ferodia, with five hundred warriors driving before them the gangs in which were found those in whom we have become interested, struck for the forest where Kalulu discovered Selim. Ferodia did not trouble the young King nor his friends, nor did Tifum venture near them; they both satisfied themselves from the rear that they were safe.

After they had made a wide détour for many days through the forest, and come to a place where there was no road nor any signs of its being inhabited, and having completely baffled pursuit had such been ever made, and when they had made their camp, Ferodia drew near to the gang where Kalulu and his friends were found.

Kalulu, as he saw his hated enemy approach, ground his teeth in rage, and foamed at the mouth like one suddenly stricken with madness, while Ferodia burst into a laugh and teased him to further exhibitions of fury, saying:

“That is right, my little crow-cock, shake thy wings, fan the air with them, and utter a lusty crow, that the fish-eagles, whose screams I hear from yonder swamps, may try and vie with thee. I have wrung a boastful cock’s head ere this, and Tifum has too. Hast thou not, Tifum?”

“That have I done, my King!” answered that servile follower, who was close behind him.

“Thou hearest, Kalulu, what Tifum says;” and, turning to Tifum, he asked, “Dost thou think, Tifum, thou couldst wring Kalulu’s neck for me, and do it deftly and neatly?”

“Try me, O King, nothing could please me better,” answered Tifum, with a significant glance at Kalulu.

“Kalulu’s neck is slender, not much thicker than a grass stalk. Thou canst easily do it, I think, if thou wilt bury thy hand in those long, gay braids of his. Thou shalt try thy hand on him to-morrow.” Advancing closer to him, he struck the boy in the chest with the butt of his spear. “Dost thou hear, boy!” But he did not retreat quickly enough, for the lithe form of Kalulu shot out and flung itself against him, and the boy’s teeth were buried in Ferodia’s neck, and he had surely strangled him had not Tifum, lifting his spear, struck him a mighty blow full on the spinal column, which almost paralysed Kalulu.

“Thou fiend, and leopard’s whelp, thou shalt die by torture to-morrow at break of day; meantime thou shalt see Soltali burning for daring to make thee King of the Watuta, and while he is burning thou shalt be stretched until thy limbs crack;” and thus saying, the angry chief strode away, rubbing his neck and fuming with passion, and gave orders that a fire should be built near a large tree, and that old Soltali should be brought forth.

In a few minutes a great fire was sparkling and roaring at the foot of the central tree in the camp, and old Soltali was brought forth before Ferodia.

“False mganga, seest thou you tree and that fire?” asked Ferodia.

“I see it, Ferodia,” answered the old man.

“There shalt thou burn, and thy accursed ashes shall remain there to blacken and curse that tree, under which perished a false magician. Ho, Tifum! quick. Bring Kalulu here first, stretch him on this ground, with his face turned towards the magician, and let us see if Soltali’s black art will save Kalulu from the pain he suffers, or himself from the fire.”

Kalulu was at once brought forth, and though he bit, and struggled, and kicked, he was pressed to the ground by overwhelming numbers, and four men tied cords to his limbs and began to draw them, until it seemed as if the young body would be torn asunder; after which the cords were fastened round pegs driven deep into the ground.

Then the brutish Ferodia used the staff of his spear on his body, and, taunting him, bade him look up and see the false mganga, who had made him King, burning in the fire.

The gang to which Selim, Abdullah, Simba, and Moto were chained was brought up and huddled together close to Kalulu. Soltali was dragged to the fire, and was tied to the tree; and the fire was pushed close to his feet, and new wood piled on it, and the smoke began to rise, and presently changed into flame.

Then Soltali, finding the flames begin to scorch and burn him, raised his right hand and shouted out with all the strength of his feeble voice, saying:

“Hearken, thou Ferodia, and ye savage Watuta. Ye think to triumph now, and make Ferodia king; but the will of the Sky-spirit must be done. Soltali had not made Kalulu king had it not been his will; Soltali obeyed but the voice of the Sky-spirit. Thou hast triumphed only for a time, Ferodia. Kalulu shall be king, must be king. Thou shalt see a bitter end, O Ferodia, to which my sufferings may not be compared; and thou, Tifum, shalt have thy head taken from off thy body, and the kite and the vulture shall pick out thine eyes. Moshono, who was burnt by the Wa-marungu, calls to Soltali. Soltali goes before thee, Tifum; and thou shalt follow me, O Ferodia. I come, great Moshono, I come. Mosh—”

Before he could utter the last word Soltali’s aged head fell upon his breast, while still the flames leaped up and embraced him with their fiery arms, until, finally, the green bark cords which bound him shrivelled up and snapped beneath the weight of the superincumbent mass, and Soltali’s body fell forward, while the sparks were shot up and the flames blazed anew. The warriors hastened to pile up wood, but Selim and Abdullah turned their faces away, unable to bear the horrid scene.

Ferodia turned to Kalulu and said, “To-morrow thou shalt die, as sure as Soltali has died. To-night lie where thou art, and when the sun rises be thou prepared to follow him. Tifum shall try his hand on thee.”

“Ah, Ferodia, thou hast heard the voice of the good Soltali. The Sky-spirit has said I shall be king. Look to thyself, for I shall kill thee yet. Thou robber, cutthroat, and coward, dost thou hear me?” cried Kalulu.

“Talk away, and crow, my little cockling. Talk as long as thou canst, if it give thee any comfort. Nay, thou mayst burst thyself with talking if thereby thou wilt ease thyself, but to-morrow Tifum shall cut thy head off, and I will get strong medicine out of it. I have said it.”

So saying Ferodia walked away, but Tifum could not refrain from going up to Kalulu. He encircled his neck with his hand, and, giving it a gentle pressure, said:

“Ah, Kalulu, to-morrow my knife shall sever that head of thine from thy body. The pain will soon be over, for Tifum’s knife is sharp, and I will sharpen it still more, Kalulu, to-night, so that thou mayst suffer but little pain. Am I not good, Kalulu? I shall boil those cheeks of thine with my porridge, and think as I eat them how often they were patted by the silly old King Katalambula. Sleep in peace to-night, Kalulu. Sleep well, for it will be thy last night’s sleep. Farewell!”

“Stay, Tifum Byah, stay one moment,” cried Kalulu gently, as if he dearly loved the wretch. “Didst thou hear Soltali’s words?”

“Ay, certainly I did. Am I deaf?” asked Tifum.

“Dost thou not fear the fate Soltali promised thee?” asked Kalulu, with mock earnestness.

“I fear a mad old man’s ravings! Tifum the Wicked fear what Soltali said! Bah, bah; sleep, Kalulu, go to sleep.”

“But stay one moment and hear me. Kalulu shall be King over the Watuta, and he will take thy head off surely, and give it to the Kituta dogs. Come here and bend thy head, closer, I wish to tell thee something,” said Kalulu, as he nodded with his head. “There, so! How dost thou like—” but that moment Kalulu buried his sharp teeth in Tifum’s cheeks, and held on with the tenacity of a bull-dog, while Tifum, uttering a shrill cry of pain, could only release himself by clutching the boy’s neck and strangling him to unconsciousness. Tifum’s face bore a frightful wound, for the teeth, filed into a point in front, according to the customs of the Ututa, had bitten a piece clean out, leaving the cheek-bone exposed, which quite spoiled what beauty he had for ever.

As he felt the havoc made in his cheek the man uttered a frightful howl, and seized a spear-staff and began to belabour the unconscious boy. He probably would have beaten him to death had not Ferodia appeared and ordered him to desist, and to reserve his revenge for the morrow, when he might take it in full.

It was difficult to restrain the infuriated man, while his whole head tingled with the most exquisite pain; but then Ferodia was King, and a King’s commands must be obeyed even though his whole body ached, and he at last turned away moaning over his wound.

Soltali, the Mganga, was more feared when dead than when alive, it seemed, for while his body was being rapidly consumed the people had begun to move their camp a few yards off, none daring to erect his hut near the awful ashes of the magician, and as night came, with its sombre shades filling the whole forest with almost palpable darkness, and thick, dark, formless shadows, it was noticeable that they still further retreated from the death tree, and whispered to each other their belief that Soltali’s spirit was in the tree, with great angry eyes of fire, looking down at the camp. Thus the mortal ashes of the old doctor, whom they had so cruelly murdered, were left alone by the superstitious people, and Kalulu, helplessly stretched near by, was the only living being within fifty yards of the dread embers which covered the remains of Soltali.

Tifum the Wicked, too much engrossed with the pain of his wound, had seen nothing of this movement, for he had retired to his hut, with his head close to the door to breathe the cool air of the night. In his hut were the spoils from Katalambula’s village, which his own particular slaves had carried for him. Among these were two bales of cloth, ten fine ivory tusks, a keg of powder, a bag of bullets, three or four guns, and, singular as it might seem, was Selim’s gun, the Joe Manton which Sheikh Amer had purchased for his son, through his Bombay agent. This accident may be attributed to Tifum’s cupidity, who had appropriated this gun as his own, on seeing that it was of a superior class to all others, as well as the belt, which contained a large supply of ammunition. Ferodia would very probably have appropriated such a fine weapon for himself had he not been so occupied with the extent of his success and fortune.

The night grew deeper and more sombre. Melancholy sounds were heard at intervals through the forest, and the superstitious warriors ascribed these to the restlessness of the spirit of Soltali, consequently they huddled into their huts, forgot the cravings of their stomachs, and sought in the cosy warm huts a temporary oblivion from their fears and superstitious troubles, and, as the night got still more aged, even moaning Tifum became tranquil and slept.

When the camp had become as still as though no five hundred warriors with strong lungs and a healthy capacity for noise within them slept in that darkness, Niani’s light, active, boyish form, who hitherto has been unnecessarily neglected, began to move from the neighbourhood of a fire where, along with other slaves, he had curled himself to rest, but not to sleep, in the direction of the slave-gang to which his master, Selim, Abdullah, gigantic Simba, and Moto belonged. The pale-coloured forms of the two Arab boys were clearly discernible, and choosing the tallest, he crept up to him, and gently placing his hand over the mouth of Selim, whom he rightly judged it to be, he bent his head low down to his ear.

“I am Niani, your slave; be still, master. I have come to save you, for I have heard Tifum swear that to-morrow you shall die with Kalulu. Hush! I have my knife. I shall cut your bonds, and those of your friends, and we shall all go away far.” So saying Niani released his hand, and with his knife parted the hark rope that fastened the iron collar, and in a second Selim felt his neck free from the ignominious chain.

Niani crept to Abdullah, and performed the same kindness for him upon the express condition that he should lie still until the hint was given to rise. From Abdullah Niani crept to Simba, and told that wondering giant who he was, and why he was there. Simba understood at once, and slightly turned over that Niani might cut the bonds which confined his hands behind his back, and raised his head that he might be released from the collar. Moto’s turn came next, and in a short time he was also free. Each head was now touched, and they at once rose and followed Niani past the sleeping forms, by the fires, and past the open huts confidently, but still quietly, until they came behind the fatal tree at whose base lay the ashes of poor old Soltali.

“Now, Master Selim, speak, what is to be done?” asked little Niani in a low voice.

“Let Simba and Moto answer; but we must not go without Kalulu, for rather than go without him I will go back and die with him.”

“I don’t intend to go either without him,” said Abdullah. “I would count it a deed worthy of paradise to die with him, and by his side. Here, give me the knife, I will go and cut his bonds.”

“No, no, master,” said Simba, “I want to go back for a particular purpose, besides rescuing Kalulu. Thou, Moto, stay here, and if any alarm is made, then do thou run east, and in the morning turn south. Here, Niani, come with me. Give me that knife.”

They both disappeared on the other side of the tree, and Simba, crawling on his hands and knees, followed by Niani, made towards where Kalulu lay stretched in anguish of body and mind. When he had advanced sufficiently near, Simba whispered the boy’s name with a warning—“Hush!”

Simba was presently close to Kalulu; and, after informing him of his purpose, soon freed him from his painful position, and Kalulu sat up, though feeling almost too sore and cramped to move.

Simba waited patiently for the first feeling of numbness to wear away, then whispered to him:

“Kalulu, dost thou remember Soltali’s words? Soltali said that Tifum’s head should be taken from off his body. I am going to take it now. Wilt thou come?”

The instant these words were suggested all feeling of soreness vanished, and the boy sprang up and was about to shout his gladness, when the big hand of Simba was placed over his mouth, and he whispered:

“Nay, not a word, not a breath, as thou dost value our lives. Our friends are behind that tree; they are waiting for us. Thou must obey me now, if success is what thou dost hope for.”

Kalulu clasped his hand, and understood at once what was necessary, and followed Simba, who was preceded by Niani, without further remark.

When near Tifum Byah’s hut Niani, who was as cunning as the nature of the mammal from whom he derived his name, stopped, and pointed silently to the hut, which stood alone and removed a good distance from any other that was inhabited.

Simba turned to Kalulu, and, handing him the knife which he had received from Niani, whispered to him: “Stay here silent as a dead tree, until thou dost hear my signal,” to which a nod of the head only was given for reply.

“Now, Tifum the Wicked,” whispered the resolute mind of Simba to itself, “it is either I or thou; I think thou. Selim’s stripes have to be paid for with thy blood; if not Selim’s, then Kalulu’s wrongs. But how can I ever pay thee for all? Sheikh Amer, my master; poor Isa; little Mussoud;” and the busy mind fanned itself into a white heat of anger, and churned the deep hate into a white foam of fury; and the Nemesis, in the form of this mighty, big-muscled man, stood over him, Tifum the Wicked. The great form bent, and suddenly drooped, with two great bony, sinewy hands clutching the sleeping man’s throat, crushing, compressing bone, gristle, sinew, and vein into a soft, yielding, pulpy mass, until there was no breath of life nor power of motion left in him.

All had been done so quietly—the deed of stern vengeance so quickly, coolly executed, that Kalulu started with surprise as he heard the signal; he could hardly believe it to have been consummated, yet he advanced determinedly, as if his help was to be needed. Think of Simba needing help for such an ordinary creature as Tifum.

“Cut it off!” said Simba, and Kalulu, nothing loth, bent down and severed the head off without one remorseful pang, and the body of Tifum was headless; and the prediction of Soltali had become thus soon verified.

Simba and Kalulu were about to move off, when Niani stepped up and whispered:

“The guns in his hut!”

“Ah, true,” and Simba turned round and gave Niani a couple of guns, to Kalulu he gave one, he reserved one for himself, then went into the hut, found the powder bag, the load of bullets and ammunition; snatched a bow, a quiver full of arrows, a couple of spears, and a long Arab sword, which Tifum had also appropriated, and with the booty, too valuable to be measured at a money value for such an expedition as he now proposed to himself, he withdrew as silently as he had come.

Once at the tree the guns were distributed, one to Abdullah, one to Moto, the “Joe Manton” to Selim, who hugged it to his heart, while Simba retained another. To Kalulu he gave a spear with the bow, and a quiver full of arrows. Niani got another spear, while he also received the precious powder-keg to carry. Simba carried the bullets and sword. Kalulu still carried the ghastly load, but nothing was said to any of the others of the deed that was done. Simba merely said “Come,” and the five followed him obediently.

“Four hours more of night till dawn,” said Simba, after they had got a little distance off. “We must march south. Come.”

In a hard, dry, trackless forest, when once a fugitive escapes it becomes impossible to find him. Had Kalulu not taken the precaution to strip himself of his cloth, and place the head of Tifum in it, it is probable that the fugitives might have been pursued; but there was no clue to the direction they had taken, for five hundred warriors had trodden the ground all around while hunting for fruit, or sticks, or water for cooking, the day before, even if the hard drouthy ground might have received the impression of a few men’s naked feet. And the natural questions the warriors would ask themselves and each other in the morning would be, “Which way have they gone? Is it north, south, east, or west? or any other of the lesser or intermediate points?” to which, of course, no definite answer could be given; while the more superstitious would say, “Ah! it is Soltali who has taken them away!” and would fear to leave their fellows.

Simba, Moto, and Kalulu knew this, and though they journeyed fast, they journeyed confidently. But, as each of the party was busy with his own thoughts, no words were exchanged until it was grey morning, and day had more power to pierce the gloom of the forest than the old moon, which but faintly showed them their way before morning, when Selim saw some mysterious bundle in Kalulu’s hand, and asked him what it was.

“Don’t ask now, Selim, my brother, we must march,” said Kalulu, and nothing more was said until at nine o’clock they stopped at a swamp to refresh themselves with water, when Kalulu setting down his bundle to drink, the cloth fell off one side, and exposed the head of a man.

“Allah!” ejaculated Selim, profoundly astonished; “what is this?” and Abdullah also cried out in astonishment the same words.

“What should it be, my brothers, but the head of Tifum the Wicked?” asked Kalulu.

“But this is murder, is it not?” asked Selim, aghast at the unsightly and livid head.

“Murder!” echoed Simba; “I think not, young master. It may be with thy people, but with Kalulu cut off his head. Was Tifum not going to cut off Kalulu’s head?—and perhaps thine, for he hated thee enough, Allah knows.”

“Yes,” said Niani, “I heard Tifum swear he would do it.”

“Well, but he did not do it, and I am sorry, Simba, thou hast thus needlessly taken life,” said Selim, with difficulty repressing a shudder.

“Selim, son of Amer, permit Simba, the Mrundi, to ask thee if thou hast already forgotten thy dead father, thy kinsmen, thine own miseries? Say, where is Isa? Where is little Mussoud? How was Abdullah treated? What became of Kalulu, thy friend? Where is Soltali? What has become of the village of Katalambula? I tell thee, young master, that if an Arab boy can so soon forget these, I, a Mrundi, cannot; and were Tifum the Wicked possessed of a thousand lives, I would take a life of his at every opportunity. What sayest thou, Moto, my friend? Have I not said well?”

“Quite right, my brother Simba, I should have done the same; and I am only sorry it fell to thy lot to take his life, because I should like to have taken it myself,” answered Moto promptly.

“What sayest thou, Kalulu?” asked Simba of the young chief.

“Here is my answer,” answered Kalulu, pointing to the head, which he picked up and tossed into the air, smiling as the head fell on its nose.

“What sayest thou, Abdullah? thou who art an Arab, and the son of an Arab?” asked Simba.

“The Küran says: ‘And if thy enemy depart not from thee, and offer thee peace, and restrain his hand from warring against thee, take him and hill him wheresoever thou dost find him, for over him God has granted the true believer a manifest power’ Since the prophet Mohammed (blessed be his name) speaks on thy side, Simba, far be it from Abdullah, son of Sheikh Mohammed, to say thou hast done wrong in this fearful thing. I think thou hast done right,” answered Abdullah gravely.

“Then, if the Küran says so, I, Selim, son of Amer, am convinced thou hast done right,” said Selim, as he hastened up, and, with an apologetic look, begged Simba’s pardon.

“I, Niani, the mtuma (slave) of Selim, the son of Amer, do pronounce that Simba did right,” cried the little negro, with an assurance which made all smile, and for a moment forget their previous mood.

“But what art thou going to do with the head, Keklu?” asked Selim.

“I am going to take medicine from it,” replied Kalulu, “to make my arm strong against Ferodia, when we get to the camp,” folding it up in the cloth again as he spoke.

“Ah, don’t, Kalulu, for my sake,” pleaded Selim with earnest eyes; “don’t, it is bad; only the lowest and most degraded do that. Cast the ugly thing away, and let it be food for the fowls of the air and the beasts of prey.”

“It has been the custom of the Watuta to do such things, and if I do not do it Kalulu will never be king,” replied the young chief, resolutely moving forward.

“It has been the custom of the Warundi too, and of all the tribes around here that I have met,” said Simba. “Let Kalulu do as he will with it, young master.”

“But thou art a Moslem, Simba; thou art not a Mrundi infidel now;” urged Selim, whose feelings revolted at such a degraded idea.

“Ay, I am a Moslem in name, but a Mrundi in heart, master; and when I think of all that Tifum the Wicked has done, and would have done, I myself should like to take medicine from it,” replied Simba, with a vengeful look.

“But Simba,” said Abdullah, “the Küran says we ‘are forbidden to eat that which dieth of itself, and blood, and swine’s flesh, and that on which the name of any beside God hath been invoked, and that which hath been strangled.’”

“Al Forkan” (the Küran) “is a holy book, Simba, that may not be disregarded, and he that turneth his back to it shall surely perish,” added Selim.

“I am not going to eat Tifum’s head; the Warundi do not eat men. They only take medicine from them; but if the good book says it is wicked, I give you my word I shall not do it,” responded Simba. “But let us march, we have no time to talk,” and setting the example, by vigorous strides, he induced the little party to strain themselves to keep up with him; and from this time until sunset there were few words exchanged, except a remark now and then upon some exceptional feature of the forest through which they were travelling.

At sunset the fugitives were obliged to halt, and seeing a dense jungle clump before them, they sought an opening which led to it, which they presently discovered, narrow and a little inconvenient, but it led them into a delicious and secure resting-place. The camp, which they now intended to make, was surrounded by an impenetrable hedge, about fifty feet thick and about twelve feet high, of thorn and cactus, aloetic plants, convolvuli, all-interlacing, embracing, twining round each other, each leaf, or twig, or branch armed at all points with a myriad thorns, through which a boa-constrictor might in vain attempt to pass, a man never, were he armed in triple steel, least of all a rude savage; while inside was soft, green, silken grass, and a small circular depression in its centre like a “buffalo-wallow,” which contained water. Could anything have been more tempting than this? Surely not. Had the most cunning Moto devised the best protection he could, he had never conceived anything more formidable against naked man or beast! And the two Arab boys laughed merrily, and rubbed their hands together, as they thought how secure they were.

Simba, who had assumed the leadership, as though leadership was an everyday thing to him, looking around, said:

“We are safe. No Watuta can find us here, but we are short of food, and boys become hungry soon. In the morning we must look for food, as we journey south. What dost thou think, Moto? is this forest likely to last much longer?”

“I know not, friend Simba. I should think not; but the minute it becomes thinner and more open we shall see game,” replied that clever woodsman, with so much confidence that Selim, Abdullah, and Niani began to smack their lips, as if they already tasted the luscious, juicy meat of fat game.

“Simba, I know this forest well,” cried Kalulu; “but before I say anything about it, I must know where thou dost intend to go.”

“Ah! where?” asked Simba, looking at Moto, and speaking in a tone which was more of a doleful echo than a question.

“Where?” said Moto, in the same tone, looking at Simba.

“I must know,” said Kalulu. “We are far from pursuit now. Ferodia might as well look for the honey-bird, hiding his head in a hole, as look for us. Speak, Simba and Moto, where do ye both intend to go?”

“Answer thou, young chief,” replied Simba and Moto, together.

“I? Well, let it be so,” he answered. “I mean to return towards the east, through the forest, and then turn up north and west, and seek out every man left of my tribe, and make war against Ferodia. Make war on the traitorous thief, until every man that lifted spear in his cause shall be even as this carrion is,” (pointing to the chilled head of Tifum). “War, until all my enemies shall fall, and be utterly destroyed as the dry grass of the summer is destroyed by a fire. That is what I intend beginning to do at sunrise to-morrow;” and as the young chief said the last few words he sprang to his feet, and dashed his spear deep into the now unoffending head of Tifum the Wicked, and his whole body quivered with the fury that animated him.

While he was thus imagining that he had already his enemies low at his feet, he felt a soft touch on his shoulder, and as he turned his head around he saw the gentle, winning face of Selim turned up to him with pleading eyes, and heard him say:

“Kalulu, thou art still the King of the Watuta to us; sit down quiet by my side, like, my brother Abdullah and little Niani here, and listen to what thy brother Selim has to say.”

The friendship he entertained for Selim came to the aid of the Arab boy, and this, together with the kindly tones and sympathising eyes turned towards him, completely subdued him, and he sat down, and for the first time, to our knowledge, Kalulu wept. Selim’s tender heart could not bear the proud young chief’s tears, and he also wept out of sheer sympathy.

“Kalulu,” said Selim, when he had conquered this feeling, and could command firmness of voice, “when I was dying of hunger in the forest thou didst come to my aid, and, pitying me, a friendship grew in thy heart towards me, and when I opened mine eyes, and saw thy large black eyes rest on me with so much pity, so much love in them for me, who until then was as one doomed to die a lingering death, was as an outcast from Nature, I learned to love thee as my brother. The blood ceremony was made, and I gladly became a brother to thee. When I was in the village, and I felt Tifum’s heavy hand on me, with the cruel order of Ferodia ringing in my ears, thou didst again come like a good angel to my aid; and in my heart I blessed God and thee. When Abdullah struggled in the dark waters, and the greedy crocodile snapped him by the leg, and drew him down out of sight, down into the depths, I cried out in my agony, ‘Oh, save him!’ and thou, ever our good angel, didst leap into the depths, and far out of sight thou didst grapple with the monster, and in a short time didst bring him—Abdullah—back to life and to his friend. When thou wert made king, and thou hadst power of life and death over an immense multitude of warriors given unto thee, I did ask thee for permission to go to my own home at Zanzibar, to lift the veil of sorrow from my mother’s eyes, and thou didst promise to give me wealth, and abundance, and men under thine own command to protect me on the way. But evil days came. Ferodia, like a thief in the night, came with a great number of men; they took thy power from thee, made thyself, and ourselves, and thy people prisoners and slaves. They bound thee, and made thee—a king—also a slave; and until last night thou wert in bonds, and yesterday thou wert beaten like the meanest, and to-day’s sun was to rise on thy corpse. But Niani—good Niani, whom I believed to be created only for mischief and fun—rose in the night, and delivered us all from the power of Ferodia; and we are all here safe from our enemies, and free once more. Allah be praised for ever!”

Kalulu was sobbing violently, and Selim, when he heard his sobs, could hardly refrain from joining him, but, conquering the feeling with an effort, he continued:

“Kalulu, my brother, it is but a little thing that I am going to ask of thee, yet if thou wilt but grant it me, thou wilt make Selim happy—ay, happier even than when thou didst whisper the sweet words in my ear—‘Thou art free! Thou art my brother!’ I fear to ask it of thee, lest thou wouldst hurt me with a refusal.”

“Speak, Selim; what can Kalulu do for thee? Have I not told thee long ago thou hast but to command me. Yet what have I to give thee? Was not Kalulu a slave yesterday? Ha! ha! what has a slave to give?” and the young chief laughed bitterly.

“Thou hast more to give me than ever thou didst possess, Kalulu. Wilt thou promise it me what I shall ask.”

“Thou art but mocking me; but I give thee my promise, and a promise is not broken lightly by a Mtuta chief,” Kalulu answered.

“Then listen, O my brother! At Zanzibar I have a beautiful home; and all around it are trees, great trees, like those in the forest, heavy with yellow globes of sweetness, called oranges, others borne down with great fruit larger than the matonga (Nux vomica) of the forest, which are sweeter than honey, and are called mangoes; and there are tall trees, called palms, which bear nuts large as thy head, full of milky wine, so refreshing when thou art thirsty, that thou wilt recall the time when thy mother suckled thee, and laughed at the greediness of her bright, baby boy; and there are numbers of others, which give both fruit to fill a man’s spirit with delight, and others to give perfume, which, when a man inhales it, his senses become suffused with pleasure; and as for the vegetables which my fields and gardens furnish, there is nothing in all ututa, or the lands adjoining, to compare with them. There are squashes, and pumpkins, and melons, blue and purple egg-plants, cucumbers, chick-peas, and beans, yams, sweet potatoes, white and yellow tomatoes, and plaintains, and bananas, and numbers of things thou dost not dream of. And then my house—ah! there is nothing like it in all Negro-land; it is as high as the tallest tree, and as large almost as the great square of thy Tillage, all of white stone; the floors, instead of being of earth or of sand, are of white stone, smooth and shining as the stillest, whitest water thou hast ever seen; and the beds are of down and of finest, whitest cloth, which when thou dost rest thy body upon them will cause thee to sleep and forget all troubles; and from the upper doors, which we call windows in Arab land, thine eyes rest upon the great blue sea, and the laughing wares, which murmur of love, and beauty, and pleasure all the day. It is to this beautiful home I invite thee, my brother. It is to these scenes of holy love, and God’s beauty, which He has given to me, that I wish to take thee; and to my dear mother, who will be to thee as she is to me; who will love thee for what thou hast done for her child, as she loves her own son; to my beautiful mother, whose face is as white as yon white cloud, and as beautiful as the moon, I wish thee to come. Say, Kalulu, wilt thou come, and share my sweet mother’s love with me? Say, wilt thou come, and let me show thee the wonders of Zanzibar?”

Kalulu answered not; he never ceased sobbing while Selim spoke; he seemed loth to give the answer in the affirmative, yet he remembered his promise, and he remembered it was Selim who was asking him a favour. A few seconds, therefore, passed in this silence; but when it was finally broken it was by Simba’s deep voice, who said:

“Those are wise words, young chief, that Master Selim has spoken. Neither Moto nor I could have thought of them; but the boy’s heart has spoken wiser words than Simba and Moto’s heads together could have spoken. Young chief, thou shalt yet be King of Ututa; but it will be better first that thou goest to Zanzibar, where thine eyes may see strange things, and thy head learn wisdom. I, Simba, a servant of Selim, could not have invited thee to Zanzibar, because Simba has but a very little hut, not bigger than a camp-cote, where the hunter has to coil himself up like a serpent. My hut would then have been no place for the King of the Watuta; but Master Selim has got a big house, bigger than any king’s house in Negro-land; he has numbers of servants, cattle, goats, donkeys, gardens, fields, and fruit-trees, and his riches are beyond my knowledge. Oh! I see light and hope now, young chief. I know what is best for all of us. I know how thou, by going to Zanzibar, may come to Ututa a greater king than Loralamba even. I’ll tell thee how. Through the aid of Selim thou wilt become acquainted with numbers of rich Arabs, whom thou wilt like when thou wilt know them better. They are good men at heart, though some are bad, as there are bad men everywhere. This acquaintance will benefit thee and them, for after thou shalt have rested a year or two at Zanzibar, thou wilt be able to induce them to come with thee to thine own country, when for their aid to set thee in thy rights, thou wilt be able to give them back the Arab slaves Ferodia took at Kwikuru, and give them ivory in abundance; and they will make thee rich in cloth and fine things: thou wilt by that time, through the knowledge of such things obtained at Zanzibar, be able to judge of what is good, and what is bad; thou wilt be able to build thy villages strong against every attack of evil men, to conquer Ferodia, and every tribe round about, to make thy country great, so there will be none other like unto it; so that thy name and glory be sung in all the corners of the earth. To be a great king thou must teach thyself and learn many things; and this thou canst do by going to Zanzibar. I have said it.”

Then Kalulu, impulsive youth that he was, sprang up and cried, “Enough, Selim, thou hadst almost persuaded me; but Simba has conquered me. I shall go to Zanzibar, I shall learn how to be a great king, and I shall come back to Ututa a strong, big man like thou, Simba; then let Ferodia look to himself. Let him live upon the fatness of the land. Let him enjoy his gains until Kalulu comes back, then by Soltali’s ashes, by the grave of Mostana, by the black ruins of Katalambula’s village, I shall have fullest revenge. I have spoken.”

“Good—good—good,” cried all at once, and Selim sprang up and embraced him, while Simba and Moto took each a hand and shook it eagerly, while little Niani jumped and hopped about as though he were a real monkey, whereas he was only a monkey in name, and Abdullah, after Selim released him, insisted also upon the same right to embrace him, and promised upon the Küran to come back with him to Watuta and see him righted. There was such joy in the little camp, closed in by that impenetrable jungle hedge, such as we are certain was never seen before, and never will be seen there again.

“There is one other little thing I should like to see Kalulu do,” said Selim, smiling, but looking on the ground nevertheless.

“What? anything else for me to do? Well, I will do it. Speak,” replied Kalulu, lifting Selim’s head up with his hand so that he could see his face.

“Thou art so good, Kalulu, to promise me so many things before thou knowest what it is I am going to ask. Thou knowest that I am very timid and fearful, and I could not sleep to-night quietly with that ugly head so near me, and—”

Kalulu rose immediately, and taking hold of the head by the hair, he tossed it into the middle of the jungle hedge, where, rolling through a little, it remained fixed in the forks of a thorn-bush situated exactly in the middle of the hedge, where it was more effectively buried safer from all living creatures than were it buried ten feet deep in the earth.

“Good—good,” cried Abdullah and Selim, really more rejoiced and feeling safer from Tifum than they liked to confess.

“Now,” said Simba, when each person’s feelings were calmed, “let us talk of other matters. Kalulu, thou knowest this country. How can we get away to Zanzibar?”

“But where is Zanzibar?” asked Kalulu, surprised.

“It ought to be east directly from here, just where the sun rises every morning,” answered Simba.

“I can show the way to Urori; but what lies beyond Urori I do not know,” said Kalulu.

“We are too small a party to be able to go through Uhehe alone,” said Simba. “That won’t do. What do you suggest, Moto?” he asked of his friend.

“If I were anywhere on the track of the traders,” answered that wise and cautions old hunter, “I would soon find out. If I were in Marungu or in Usowa I could soon tell. Did I not hear thee say, Kalulu, that there lay a lake, a large body of water somewhere about here?”

“Yes, Lake Liemba; there is no end to it. It runs towards the north,” replied Kalulu.

“Lake Liemba! Liemba!” said Moto to himself, like one trying to remember whether he had ever heard the name before. “I never heard of Liemba that I know of. I have been on Lake Tanganika several times in going from Ujiji to—”

“Ujiji!” said Kalulu, in a surprised tone. “Ujiji! I never heard the Watuta travellers talk about the Tanganika; but I have always heard that Ujiji was on Liemba, not far from Usowa, but further up.”

“Wallahi!” shouted Moto. “Then Lake Tanganika is only another name for Lake Liemba, for Ujiji is on Lake Tanganika, and Usowa is only a few days south of Ujiji. First after Ujiji there is Kawendi; then we come to Usowa; and after that is Uwemba—no, not Uwemba—Ufipa; and after Ufipa, Uwemba; then we always went straight to Marungu.”

“If thou canst go from Ujiji to Marungu, then,” said Kalulu, “or to Wemba or Usowa, the road is easy, if thou knowest the road from Ujiji to Zanzibar.”

“Ah! don’t I?” answered Moto, in a triumphant tone. “I will find the road from Ujiji to Zanzibar. I have travelled the road five times from Ujiji to Zanzibar, and I ought to know it. I have been guide to Sayd bin Hashid from Unyanyembe to Ujiji; but there is a better and nearer road to Zanzibar from Fipa to Usowa; then to Ukorongo and Unyanyembe.”

“Well, then,” said Simba, “what we have got to do is to reach this lake, whence it is easy to reach Ufipa or Usowa, and from thence to Unyanyembe, after which it will be easy to get to Zanzibar.”

“I know the road to the Lake,” said Kalulu, “for I was on the lake some moons ago. It ought to lie just where you saw the sun set to-night about twenty days’ march from here. But between us and this lake is Ferodia’s country. We should go a week further this way (pointing to the south), then turn round and go up, slowly towards the lake.”

“Ngema—Ngema” (good, good), all cried delighted.

“To-morrow we will continue the journey south, and after a week we will pick our way toward this lake, and Inshallah! we shall see Zanzibar within five moons from now,” said Simba.

“And to-morrow we shall get food—Inshallah!” said Moto.

“Inshallah, Inshallah!” all the Moslems cried.

They now proceeded to divide their ammunition, the powder and the bullets for Simba and Moto and Abdullah; while Selim, on inspecting his cartridge-bag, found a box with a thousand caps and one hundred bullets for his “Joe Manton.” Kalulu employed himself in examining the string of his bow; while Niani, seeing everybody else examine his weapon, thought he might as well follow their example, and began to look at the blade of his spear in a wise manner, and delighted everybody with the news that it was sharp.

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