occupant of the hammock finally emerged from the tangle and came erect.



CHAPTER V


THE ENCOUNTER

Kingozi saw a tall figure without a coat, dressed in brown shirt, riding
breeches, and puttees. The Nubian had retrieved a spilled sun helmet even
before the stranger had scrambled erect, so the head and face were
invisible. Kingozi's countenance did not change, but a faint contempt
appeared in his eyes. The first impression conveyed by the numbers of the
tin boxes and their bearers and escort had been deepened. Why? Because the
riding breeches were of that exaggerated cut sometimes actually to be seen
outside tailor's advertisements. They were gathered trimly around an
effeminately slender waist, and then ballooned out to an absurd width,
only to contract again skin tight around the knees.

"_M'buzi!_" grunted Kingozi, applying to the stranger the superlative of
Swahili contempt. He did not know he spoke aloud; for it is not well for
one white man to criticise another to a native. But Mali-ya-bwana replied.

"_Bibi_," he corrected.

Kingozi stared. "By Jove, you're right!" he exclaimed in English. "It _is_
a woman!" He burst into an unexpected laugh. "It isn't balloon breeches;
it's _hips!_" he cried. This correction seemed to him singularly humorous.
He approached her, laughing.