Maganga, a tall Mnyamwezi, stalked along like a very
Goliah about to give battle alone, to Mirambo and his thousand
warriors. Frisky Khamisi paced on under his load, imitating a
lion and there was the rude jester - the incorrigible Ulimengo -
with a stealthy pace like a cat. But their silence could not
last long. Their, vanity was so much gratified, the red cloaks
danced so incessantly before their eyes, that it would have
been a wonder if they could have maintained such serious gravity
or discontent one half hour longer.
Ulimengo was the first who broke it. He had constituted himself
the kirangozi or guide, and was the standard-bearer, bearing the
American flag, which the men thought would certainly strike terror
into the hearts of the enemy. Growing confident first, then
valorous, then exultant, he suddenly faced the army he was
leading, and shouted
"Hoy! Hoy !
Chorus. - Hoy! Hoy!
Hoy! Hoy!
Chorus. - Hoy! Hoy!
Hoy! Hoy!
Chorus. - Hoy! Hoy!
Where are ye going?
Chorus. - Going to war.
Against whom?
Chorus. - Against Mirambo.
