here, there, and everywhere, according as his fancy turns to this or that
bush, thicket, or clump of grass. Such a camp straggles abominably. But
here was no such confusion. Back from the water-hole a hundred yards, atop
a slight rise, and under the thickest of the trees, stood a large green
tent with a projecting fly. A huge pile of firewood had been dumped down
in front of it, and at that very moment one of the _askaris_, kneeling,
was kindling a fire. Behind the big tent, and at some remove, gleamed the
circle of porters' tents each with its little blaze. Loads were piled
neatly, covered with a tarpaulin, and the pile guarded by an _askari_.

Kingozi strode across the intervening space.

Before the big tent a table had been placed, and beside the table a
reclining canvas chair of the folding variety. On a spread of figured blue
cloth stood a bottle of lime juice, a sparklets, and an enamelware bowl
containing flowers. The strange woman was stretched luxuriously in the
chair smoking a cigarette.

She wore a short-sleeved lilac tea gown of thin silk, lilac silk
stockings, and high-heeled slippers. Her hair fell in two long braids over
her shoulders and between her breasts, which the thin silk defined. Her
figure in the long chair fell into sinuous, graceful, relaxed lines. As he
approached she looked at him over the glowing cigarette; and her eyes
seemed to nicker with a strange restlessness. This contrast--of the
restless eyes and the relaxed, graceful body--reminded Kingozi of
something. His mind groped for a moment; then he had it.

"_Bibi ya chui!_" he said, half to himself, half to his companion, "The
Leopard Woman!"