e fields will be left desolate, and what I have hitherto
known as home will become a wilderness. Yet for all this, when Cruelty
would even pause before going farther, I am pleading to a Mrori for the
only thing left for me to ask--my liberty! Mrori, speak; must I ask
twice for that which was never yours to give? Will you not let me
depart to my uncle, to remember the friendly Mrori who scorned to take
advantage of a boy?'

"`Go in peace, my lord, go in peace: I did but try you. Moto is your
friend, and if you can remember Moto when you live happily amongst your
uncle's tribe, Moto will ever be grateful.'

"`Is Moto your name?' he said delightedly, taking my hand, while his
eyes danced with joy. `Then let the Warori of my uncle's tribe ever
remember your name with pleasure. Katalambula, my uncle, shall remember
your name for future benefit, should we ever meet again. Kalulu has
spoken.'

"He embraced me as if I were his father, and then snatching his weapons
and the shield which I gave him, he turned away and, light as the
jumping antelope [the springbok], bounded away from sight.

"Come, my friends, the night is far spent, let us retire," said Moto,
when he had ended his really interesting story.

"What, Moto! I am surprised that you let the fellow go, when you might
have got fifty cloths for him," said Selim.

"And I am not," said Simba, "for I know Moto, and it is for that I love
him as my brother. Why, he was a king's son! Should Moto take that
from Kalulu which was not his to take? Ah, Moto! thou art good as the
yellow metal which all the rich Arabs at Zanzibar love so much, and
which the Banyan women love to hang on their yellow breasts. Master
Selim, you know not what it is to be a slave; pray Allah that you never
will know," said Simba as he rose and yawned.

"I a slave! you are dreaming, Simba. An Arab cannot be a slave, but a
black man was born to be an Arab's slave," replied Selim, with some
tartness in his tones.

"Well, well, we will talk of this another time," said Moto quietly, "eh,
Simba, my brother? Master, the journey is far to-morrow; before the sun
rises, your father has said, we must be on the road to Simbamwenni. It
is now late. Good night, young master."

"I shall go to my father's tent to dream of Mostana's son, Kalulu," said
Selim, recovering his temper, saying which, he walked away.

CHAPTER THREE.

THE UNITED ARAB HOST--THE COUNCIL--THE LESSER COUNCIL--WHAT AN A