Jacks," that but a
minute or so smoked hotly under their silver cover.
For the meal, I thanked the Sheikh, as only an earnest and
sincerely hungry man, now satisfied, could thank him. Even if
I had not spoken, my gratified looks had well informed him, under
what obligations I had been laid to him.
Out came my pipe and tobacco-pouch.
"My friendly Sheikh, wilt thou smoke?"
"No, thanks! Arabs never smoke."
"Oh, if you don't, perhaps you would not object to me smoking,
in order to assist digestion?"
"Ngema - good - go on, master."
Then began the questions, the gossipy, curious, serious, light
questions:
"How came the master?
"By the Mpwapwa road."
"It is good. Was the Makata bad?"
"Very bad."
"What news from Zanzibar?"
"Good; Syed Toorkee has possession of Muscat, and Azim bin Ghis
was slain in the streets."
"Is this true, Wallahi?" (by God.)
"It is true."
"Heh-heh-h! This is news!" - stroking his beard.
"Have you heard, master, of Suleiman bin Ali?"
"Yes, the Bombay governor sent him to Zanzibar, in a
man-of-war, and Suleiman bin Ali now lies in the gurayza (fort)."
"Heh, that is very good."
"Did you have to pay much tribute to the Wagogo?"
"Eight times; Hamed Kimiani wished me to go by Kiwyeh, but I
declined, and struck through the forest to Munieka.
