death he desired to see the mighty master, the real conqueror of the Samburus, sitting on an elephant.
Accordingly uncommon admiration struggled in his eyes with the dusk with which death was dimming them, and his pale lips, stretched by "pelele," whispered lowly:
"Yancig! Yancig!"
But immediately after that his head reclined backward, his mouth opened wide—and he died.
Kali, who loved him, with tears threw himself upon his breast. Among the warriors some began to strike their heads, others to proclaim Kali king and to "yancig" in his honor. Some fell before the young ruler on their faces. No one raised a voice in opposition, as the right to rule belonged to Kali not only by law, as the oldest son of Fumba, but also as a conqueror.
In the meantime, in the huts of the fetish-men in the boma on the mountain-top, resounded the savage din of the wicked Mzimu, the same as Stas had heard in the first negro village, but this time it was not directed against him but was demanding the death of the prisoners for killing Fumba. The drums began to rumble. The warriors formed in a long host of three men in a row and commenced a war dance around Stas, Kali, and Fumba's corpse.
"Oa, Oa! Yach, yach!" all voices repeated; all heads nodded right and left in unison, the whites of their eyes glistened, and the sharp points of the spears twinkled in the morning sun.
Kali rose and turning to Stas, said:
"Great master, bring the 'bibi' to the boma and let her dwell in Fumba's hut. Kali is king of the Wahimas and the great master is Kali's king."
Stas nodded his head in sign of assent but remained a few hours, for he and the King were entitled to a rest.
He did not leave until towards the evening. During
