170 A BOOK-LOVER S HOLIDAYS 



All fairly hisses this statement; malefactor shudders. 



Chorus (almost bereft of speech at the revelation of a 

 depravity of which they had never hitherto dreamed) : 

 &quot;Hau! W-a-u!!&quot; 



I (severe, but melancholy): &quot;You didn t stop until I 

 had to slap your face.&quot; 



Chorus (with unctuous relish): &quot;The Bwana ought to 

 have beaten you !&quot; 



I: &quot;Do you wish to become a porter again? There s 

 a Kavirondo porter very anxious to get your job !&quot; (De 

 ceitfully concealing a vagueness of recollection about this 

 aspirant, who had been pronounced worthless.) 



Malefactor (overcome by suggestion of the semimythical 

 Kavirondo rival) : &quot;Oh, Bwana, have me beaten, but keep 

 me as gun-bearer ! &quot; 



I (with regal beneficence): &quot;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.&quot; 

 (Kongoni, endeavoring to look both austere and disin 

 terested, pokes malefactor in back.) 



Chorus (disappointed of a tragedy, but fundamentally 

 kind-hearted): &quot;What a merciful Bwana! And now 

 Gouvimali will always be careful! Good Gouvimali!&quot; 



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 &quot;shenzis,&quot; 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- 



