ght or to run where their eyes should lead them, though it
would result in leaving them to the caprice of fate.

So in uncertainty, alarm, and amazement they only whispered to each
other:

"Oh, mother! What creatures are these which have come to us, and what
awaits us at their hands?"

But at this Kali, having ridden within a spear's throw of them, stood
up in the stirrups and began to shout:

"People! people! Listen to the voice of Kali, the son of Fumba, the
mighty king of the Wahimas on the shores of Bassa-Narok. Oh listen,
listen, and if you understand his speech, pay heed to each word that he
utters."

"We understand," rang the answer of three hundred mouths.

"Let your king stand forth; let him tell his name and let him open his
ears and lips that he may hear better."

"M'Rua! M'Rua!" numerous voices began to cry.

M'Rua stepped in front of the ranks, but not more than three paces. He
was a negro, already old, tall and powerfully built, but evidently did
not suffer from too much courage, as the calves of his legs quivered so
that he had to implant the edge of a spear in the ground and support
himself on the shaft in order to stand on his legs.

After his example, the other warriors also drove the spears into the
ground in sign that they wanted to hear peaceably the words of the
arrival.

And Kali again raised his voice.

"M'Rua, and you, M'Rua's men, you heard that to you speaks the son of
the king of the Wahimas, whose cows cover as thickly the mountains
around the Bassa-Narok as the ants cover the body of a slain giraffe.
And what says Kali, the son of the king of Wahima? Lo, he announces to
you the great and happy tidings that there comes to your village the
'Good Mzimu.'"

After which he yelled still louder:

"That is so! The Good Mzimu! Ooo!"

In the stillness which ensued could be perceived the great sensation
which Kali's words created. The wave of warriors surged back and forth,
for some, impelled by curiosity, advanced a few paces, while others
retreated in fear. M'Rua supported himself with both hands on the
spear--and for some time the hollow silence continued. Only after a
while a murmur passed through the ranks and individual voices began to
repeat "Mzimu! Mzimu!" and here and there resounded shouts of "Yancig!
Yancig!" expressive at the same time of homage and welcome.

But Kali's voice again predominated over the murmurs and shouts:

"Look and rejoice! Lo, the 'Good Mzimu' sits