THE LAST FRONTIER 



an ordinary close-fitting skull cap. He wore one 

 pair of plain armlets on his left upper arm and small 

 simple ear-rings. His robe was black. He had no 

 trace of either oil or paint, nor did he even carry a 

 spear. 



He greeted us with good-humoured ease, and in- 

 quired conversationally if we wanted anything. We 

 suggested wood and milk, whereupon still smiling, 

 he uttered a few casual words in his own language to 

 no one in particular. There was no earthly doubt 

 that he was chief. Three of the most gorgeous and 

 haughty warriors ran out of camp. Shortly long 

 files of women came in bringing loads of firewood; 

 and others carrying bananas, yams, sugarcane and 

 a sheep. Truly M'booley did things on a princely 

 scale. We thanked him. He accepted the thanks 

 with a casual smile, waved his hand and went on to 

 talk of something else. In due order our M'ganga 

 brought up one of our best trade blankets, to which 

 we added a half dozen boxes of matches and a razor. 



Now into camp filed a small procession: four 

 women, four children, and two young men. These 

 advanced to where M'booley was standing smoking 

 with great satisfaction one of B's tailor-made ciga- 

 rettes. M'booley advanced ten feet to meet them, and 

 brought them up to introduce them one by one in 

 the most formal fashion. These were of course his 



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