wood when I caught hold of his arm and bade him, in the Kirori tongue,
not to run away from a friend. He turned round to me with such a look
in his large eyes--eyes that truly were like unto those of the young
Kalulu, his namesake, which, as it bounds over the low brush or grass
clumps in the plains of Urori and Ubena, seems never to touch the ground
as it leaps lightly and swiftly away from the cruel hunter. Perhaps it
is because I am a Mrori that I was rather partial to the son of Mostana,
captive of my bow and of my spear, but when I saw those large, soft,
pleading eyes turned up to me, I wept for him who was a king's son
yesterday, and to-day was Moto's slave.

"`You are a Mrori,' said the boy, `and will you make Mostana's son a
slave to those robbers?'

"`My lord, the Arabs are not robbers; they are rich merchants trading
for ivory, who, when angered by wrong done to them, band together to
fight. Mostana is dead; the Arab chief, Kisesa, wants you for himself.
Will you submit?'

"`You are not a Mrori; no Mrori warrior would talk of submitting to be
the slave of an Arab dog, however great or rich he is. Mostana has
warned me often how it would all end. But Kalulu, his son, will never
be a slave. Listen, my brother. [All strangers are addressed in
"Urori" as brothers. All travellers are hailed as brothers.] I was
born in that village; I first drew breath within that palisaded
enclosure; there I first learned to lisp "baba," "mama;" there I first
learned to distinguish friend from foe, light from darkness, good from
evil; there I first learned how to handle the spear and the bow, how to
throw the war-hatchet and the knob-stick; under those trees I have
sucked at my mother's paps, and when older have listened to the elders
of the village and counsellors of my father relating the traditions of
my great warrior tribe; in those fields now green with corn I have
played with friends of my own age--with Luhambo, Lotaka, Borata Natona,
Kahirigi, and others; in the pleasant stream which is now before us I
have bathed and caught the great fat fish; in this forest I have chased
the honey-bird, and searched for the sweet treasures the wild bees
stored for me; here the antelope and fleet zebra invited me to the
chase; even the very trees seem to know me, and recognise me as
belonging to this portion of earth. But now Mostana, my father, is
dead, my village will be burnt, my kinsmen are either dead or bound
captives, th