170 A BOOK-LOVER'S HOLIDAYS 



Ali fairly hisses this statement; malefactor shudders. 



Chorus (almost bereft of speech at the revelation of a 

 depravity of which they had never hitherto dreamed) : 

 "Hau! W-a-u!!" 



I (severe, but melancholy): "You didn't stop until I 

 had to slap your face." 



Chorus (with unctuous relish): "The Bwana ought to 

 have beaten you !" 



I: "Do you wish to become a porter again.? There's 

 a Kavirondo porter very anxious to get your job !" (De- 

 ceitfully concealing a vagueness of recollection about this 

 aspirant, who had been pronounced worthless.) 



Malefactor (overcome by suggestion of the semimythical 

 Kavirondo rival) : "Oh, Bwana, have me beaten, but keep 

 me as gun-bearer ! " 



I (with regal beneficence): "Well, I'll fine you ten 

 rupees; and if you make another break, out you go; 

 and you're to do all Kongoni's gun-cleaning for a week.'* 

 (Kongoni, endeavoring to look both austere and disin- 

 terested, pokes malefactor in back.) 



Chorus (disappointed of a tragedy, but fundamentally 

 kind-hearted) : " What a merciful Bwana ! And now 

 Gouvimali will always be careful ! Good Gouvimali ! " 



On another occasion, on the White Nile, I 

 one day took with me, to show me game, two 

 natives of a village near our camp. I shot a 

 roan antelope. It was mortally wounded; one 

 of the natives, the "shenzis," saw it fall but 

 said nothing and slipped away to get the horns 

 and meat for himself. Later, Kongoni became 

 suspicious, and very acutely — for he was not 

 only a master of hunting craft but also pos- 



