That night Kingozi was restless and could not sleep. His vision had been blurring badly during the day, and now his eyeballs ached as though they had been seared. After his solitary evening meal he wandered about restlessly, gripping his pipe strongly between his teeth. Shortly after dark he entered his tent with the idea of turning in early; but the pain drove him out again. He remained only long enough to substitute his mosquito boots for his day boots. The Nubian, lying in the long grass beside the newly sharpened spear, settled himself to wait.

Kingozi's figure lost itself among the men of the camp. The strong, clean wind that blew every day from distant ranges, was falling with the night. A breath of coolness came with it. Chake shivered and wished he had brought his blanket. The time was very long; but back of Chake were generations of men who had lain patiently in wait. He gripped the haft of the heavy spear.

Black night descended in earnest. The little fires were dying down. Still Kingozi, tortured by his headache, wandered about. Upward of two hours passed. Then at last the crouching Nubian saw dimly the silhouette of the white man returning, caught in the glimmer of coals the colour of the khaki coat he wore. The moment was at hand. Chake arose to his knees, his spear in his right hand. As soon as his victim should lie down on the cot, it was his intention to thrust him through the canvas. It must be remembered that the cot was placed close to the wall, and that the body of the sleeper was defined against it.

But unexpectedly the wearer of the khaki coat passed the tent door and proceeded to the rear where he reached upward to the rear guy rope where hung a towel, or some such matter. This brought him to within four feet of the kneeling Nubian, the broad of his back exposed, both arms upraised. Without hesitation Chake drove the spear into his back. The sharp long blade slipped through the flesh as easily as a hot knife into butter. The murdered man choked once and pitched forward headlong on his face. Chake, leaving the weapon, glided swiftly away.

Once well beyond the chance of a fire glimmer he arose to his feet and quickly regained his own camp. This was exactly on the opposite side of the circle. The four men with whom he shared his tiny cotton tent, _askaris_ all as beseemed his dignity, were sound asleep. He squatted on his heels, pushed together the embers of his fire, staring into the coals. His ugly face was as though carved from ebony. Only his wild savage eyes glowed and flashed with a brooding lambent flame; and his wide nostrils slowly expanded and contracted as though with some inner heaving emotion.

Thus he sat for perhaps ten minutes. Then on the opposite side of the circle a commotion began. Some one cried out, figures ran to and fro, commands were given, brands were snatched from dying fires, torches were lit. Elsewhere, all about camp, sleepers were sitting up, were asking one another what was the matter. The _askaris_ in Chake's tent grumbled, and turned over, and asked what it was all about. Chake shook his mop of hair, staring into the fire.

From the Leopard Woman's tent came a sharp summons. The Nubian arose and stalked boldly across the open space. At the closed tent he scratched his fingernail respectfully against the canvas.

"_Karibu, karibu!_" summoned his mistress impatiently. He slipped between the flaps and stood inside.

The Leopard Woman was seated upright in her cot. On the tin box near the head of the bed burned a candle in a mica lantern. By its dim light her face looked paler than ever, and deep black circles seemed to have defined themselves under her eyes. The Nubian and the white woman stared at each other for a moment.

"It is done?" she asked finally, in a hoarse whisper.

"It is done, _memsahib_," he replied calmly.

For another pause she stared at him, her eyes widening. "You have done well. _Bassi!_" she enunciated at last.

The tent flaps still quivered behind the Nubian's exit, when she threw herself face downward on the cot. Her body shook with convulsive dry sobs. After a moment she twisted on her side. Both hands clutched her throat, as though she strangled for air. Her eyes were round and rolling. It was as if some mighty pent force were struggling for release. Suddenly the release came. She began to weep, the tears streaming down her face. Shortly she commenced to mutter little short disjointed phrases in her own language. She wrung her han............