THE LEOPARD WOMAN

In the early darkness of equatorial Africa Kingozi, accompanied by Mali-
ya-bwana with a lantern, crossed over to the other camp. Simba and Cazi
Moto had come in almost at dusk; but they were very tired, and Kingozi
considered it advisable to let them rest. They had covered probably
thirty-five miles. Cazi Moto had found no water, and no traces of water.
Furthermore, the game had thinned and disappeared. Only old tracks, old
trails, old signs indicated that after the Big Rains the country might be
habitable for the beasts. But Simba had discovered a concealed "tank" in a
kopje. He had worked his way to it by "lining" the straight swift flight
of green pigeons, as a bee hunter on the plains used to line the flight of
bees. The tank proved to be a deep, hidden recess far back under
overhanging rocks, at once concealed and protected from the sun and
animals. Its water was sweet and abundant.

"No one has used that water. It is an unknown water," concluded Simba.

"How far?"

"Four hours."

"_Vema_." Kingozi bestowed on him the word of highest praise.

The stranger woman's camp was not far away; in fact, but just across the
little dry stream-bed. Her safari was using the same pool with Kingozi's.

At the edge of the camp he paused to take in its disposition. From one
detail to another his eye wandered, and in it dawned a growing approval.
Your native, left to his own devices, pitches his little tents haphazard