precisely at sunset on the third day from that night. Now
as he had divined on Friday, according to our almanac, this meant that
we might hope to see him--hope exactly described my state of mind on the
matter--on the Monday evening in time for supper.

"All right," I said briefly. "Please do not talk to me any more about
this impious rubbish, for I want to go to sleep."

Next morning early we unpacked our boxes and made a handsome selection
of gifts for the king, Bausi, hoping thus to soften his royal heart.
It included a bale of calico, several knives, a musical box, a cheap
American revolver, and a bundle of tooth-picks; also several pounds
of the best and most fashionable beads for his wives. This truly noble
present we sent to the king by our two Mazitu servants, Tom and Jerry,
who were marched off in the charge of several sentries, for I hoped
that these men would talk to their compatriots and tell them what good
fellows we were. Indeed I instructed them to do so.

Imagine our horror, therefore, when about an hour later, just as we were
tidying ourselves up after breakfast, there appeared through the gate,
not Tom and Jerry, for they had vanished, but a long line of Mazitu
soldiers each of whom carried one of the articles that we had sent.
Indeed the last of them held the bundle of toothpicks on his fuzzy head
as though it were a huge faggot of wood. One by one they set them down
upon the lime flooring of the verandah of the largest hut. Then their
captain said solemnly:

"Bausi, the Great Black One, has no need of the white men's gifts."

"Indeed," I replied, for my dander was up. "Then he won't get another
chance at them."

The men turned away without more words, and presently Babemba turned up
with a company of about fifty soldiers.

"The king is waiting to see you, white lords," he said in a voice of
very forced jollity, "and I have come to conduct you to him."

"Why would he not accept our presents?" I asked, pointing to the row of
them.

"Oh! that is because of Imbozwi's story of the magic shield. He said he
wanted no gifts to burn his hair off. But, come, come. He will explain
for himself. If the Elephant is kept waiting he grows angry and
trumpets."

"Does he?" I said. "And how many of us are to come?"

"All, all, white lord. He wishes to see every one of you."

"Not me, I suppose?" said Sammy, who was standing close by. "I must stop
to make ready the food."

"Yes, you too," replied Babemba.