people who had done no harm to him or Nell. It was enough that he assured the Wahimas a victory and freed Fumba, who was besieged in a great boma. Soon, also, when Kali came running with news of a definite victory, he issued an order for the cessation of the battle, which raged yet in the underwood and rocky recesses and which was prolonged by the implacable hatred of old Fumba.
However, before Kali succeeded in quelling it, it was daylight. The sun, as is usual under the equator, rolled quickly from beyond the mountains, and flooded with a bright light the battle-field on which lay over two hundred Samburu corpses pierced by spears or crushed by maces. After a certain time, when the battle finally ceased and only the joyful yells of the Wahimas disturbed the morning's quiet, Kali again appeared, but with a face so dejected and sad that it could be perceived even from a distance that some kind of misfortune had overtaken him.
In fact, when he stood before Stas, he began to strike his head with his fists and exclaim sorrowfully:
"Oh, great master!—Fumba kufa! Fumba kufa!" (is slain).
"Slain?" Stas repeated.
Kali related what had happened, and from his words it appeared that the cause of the occurrence was only the inveterate hatred of Fumba, for after the battle had ceased, he still wanted to give the last blow to two Samburus, and from one of them he received the stroke of a spear.
The news spread among all the Wahimas in the twinkling of an eye and around Kali a mob gathered. A few moments later six warriors bore on spears the old king, who was not killed but fatally wounded. Before his
