delighted to furnish us with anything we might desire.

Almost on the heels of this the chief arrived. He was a fine old savage,
over six feet tall, of well proportioned figure, and with a shrewd,
intelligent face. The n'goma had him to a limited extent, for he
stumbled over tent ropes, smiled a bit uncertainly, and slumped down
rather suddenly when he had meant to sit. However, he stumbled, smiled,
and slumped with unassailable dignity.

From beneath his goatskin robe he produced a long ornamented gourd, from
which he offered us a drink of fermented milk. He took our refusal
good-naturedly. The gourd must have held a gallon, but he got away with
all of its contents in the course of the interview; also several pints
of super-sweetened coffee which we doled out to him a little at a time,
and which he seemed to appreciate extravagantly.

Through Leyeye we exchanged the compliments of the day, and, after the
African custom, told each other how important we were. Our visitor
turned out to be none other than the brother of Lenani, the paramount
chief of all the Masai. I forget what I was, either the brother of King
George or the nephew of Theodore Roosevelt--the only two white men
_every_ native has heard of. It may be that both of us were mistaken,
but from his evident authority over a very wide district we were
inclined to believe our visitor.

We told him we wanted guides through the hills to the southward. He
promised them in a most friendly fashion.

"I do not know the white man," said he. "I live always in these
mountains. But my brother Lenani told me ten years ago that some day the