He smoked quietly, his eye wandering from one point to another of the new-
born camp's activities. One after another the men came to report the
completion of their tasks.

"_Pita ya maji tayiari_," said Sanguiki coming from the new-made water
trail.

"_I zuru_," approved Kingozi.

"_Hema tayiari_," reported Simba, reaching his hand for the light rifle.

Kingozi glanced toward the tent and nodded. A licking little fire
flickered in the cook camp. The tiny porter's tents had completed their
circle, and in front of each new smoke was beginning to rise. Cazi Moto
glided up and handed him the _kiboko_, the rhinoceros-hide whip, the
symbol of authority. Everything was in order.

The white man rose a little stiffly and walked over to the pile of meat.
For a moment he examined it contemplatively, aroused himself with an
apparent effort, and began to separate it into four piles. He did not
handle the meat himself, but silently indicated each portion with his
_kiboko_, and Simba or Cazi Moto swiftly laid it aside.

"This for the gun-bearer camp," commanded Kingozi, touching with his foot
the heavy "backstraps" and the liver--the next choicest bits after
tenderloin. He raised his voice.

"Kavirondo!" he called.

Several tall, well-formed black savages of this tribe arose from one of