Take one man with you. Let the men rest and eat."

"Yes, _bwana_."

"Are there sick?"

"Two men."

"Let them come."

Cazi Moto raised his voice.

"_N'gonjwa!_" he summoned them.

Kingozi looked at them in silence for a moment.

"What is the matter with you?" he asked of the first, a hulking, stupid-
looking Kavirondo with the muscles of a Hercules.

The man replied, addressing Cazi Moto, as is etiquette; and although
Kingozi understood perfectly, he awaited his headman's repetition of the
speech as though the Kavirondo had spoken a strange language.

"Fever, eh?" commented Kingozi aloud to himself, for the first time
speaking his own tongue. "We'll soon see. Cazi Moto," he instructed in
Swahili, "the medicine."

He thrust a clinical thermometer beneath the Kavirondo's tongue, glancing
at a wrist watch as he did so.