And Bombay was by no means in the best of humour;
flesh-pots full of meat were more to his taste than a constant
tramping, and its consequent fatigues. I saw his face settle into
sulky ugliness, and his great nether lip hanging down limp, which
meant as if expressed in so many words, "Well, get them to move
yourself, you wicked hard man! I shall not help you."
An ominous silence followed my order to the kirangozi to sound the
horn, and the usual singing and chanting were not heard. The men
turned sullenly to their bales, and Asmani, the gigantic guide,
our fundi, was heard grumblingly to say he was sorry he had
engaged to guide me to the Tanganika. However, they started,
though reluctantly. I stayed behind with my gunbearers, to drive
the stragglers on. In about half an hour I sighted the caravan at
a dead stop, with the bales thrown on the ground, and the men
standing in groups conversing angrily and excitedly.
Taking my double-barrelled gun from Selim's shoulder, I selected a
dozen charges of buck-shot, and slipping two of them into the
barrels, and adjusting my revolvers in order for handy work, I
walked on towards them.
