Does not the white man know there lives a king in Uhha,
to whom the Wangwana and Arabs pay something for right of passage?"
"Why, we paid last night to the chief of Kawanga, who informed us
that he was the man deputed by the King of Uhha to collect the
toll."
"How much did you pay?"
"Ten doti of good cloth."
"Are you sure?"
"Quite sure. If you ask him, he will tell you so."
"Well," said one of the Wahha, a fine, handsome, intelligent-looking
youth, "it is our duty to the king to halt you here until we find out
the truth of this. Will you walk to our village, and rest yourselves
under the shade of our trees until we can send messengers to Kawanga?"
"No; the sun is but an hour high, and we have far to travel;
but, in order to show you we do not seek to pass through your
country without doing that which is right, we will rest where we
now stand, and we will send with your messengers two of our
soldiers, who will show you the man to whom we paid the cloth."
The messengers departed; but, in the meantime, the handsome youth,
who turned out to be the nephew of the King, whispered some order
to a lad, who immediately hastened away, with the speed of an
antelope, to the cluster of villages which we had just passed.
