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 U L U 
 
 AN AFRICAN ROMANCE 
 
 BY 
 
 JOSEPH THOMSON 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THROUGH MASAI LAND," AND " TO THE CENTRAL AFRICAN 
 LAKES AND BACK ; " 
 
 AND 
 
 MISS HARRIS -SMITH 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES.— VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SAMPSON LOW, MAKSTOX, SEAKLE, .<l^ RIVINGTON, 
 
 LIMITED, 
 
 ift. Qunstan's Il^ousc, 
 Fetter Lane, Fleet Street, E.G. 
 
 1888. 
 
 . ■ [All Rights reserved,']
 
 WORKS BY MR. JOSEPH THOMSON. 
 
 THROUGH MASAI LAND. With Illus- 
 trations. Demy 8vo., 21s. Cheaper Edi iun, 7s. Qd. 
 
 TO THE CENTRAL AFRICAN LAKES 
 
 AND BACK. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 
 2 vols. 24s. Cheaper Edition, ILlu^t^ated. Crown 
 8vo., 7s. 6d. 
 
 London : 
 
 Sampson Low, Marston, Searle & Rivington, Ltd., 
 
 St. Dunstan's House, Fetter Lane. 
 
 LONDON: PRINTKD ItT Wrr.MAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 SIAMFUUI) STIMCICT AND CHARING CROSS.
 
 
 
 
 DEDICATED TO 
 
 HENKY WALTER BATES, F.R.S., E.L.S., etc., 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE NATURALIST ON THE AMAZON," 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOKS. 
 
 lUJNOlS LIBRARY 
 J^TtiRBAAIA-CHAWPAlGN
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of. Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/uluafricanromanc01thom
 
 PEEFATORY NOTE BY THE 
 AUTHORS. 
 
 In introducing '*Ulu" to the reader, it need only 
 be said that the descriptions of scenery, customs, 
 and incidents are true to the country and people 
 depicted. For such description it was not neces- 
 sary to draw either upon the imagination or on 
 books, one of the authors having traversed the 
 whole region in which the action of the story takes 
 place. 
 
 A word may be added regarding the language 
 of the Kilimanjaro district. Following the custom 
 of many other savage races, the natives vary the 
 significance of their substantives by prefixing a 
 particle. Thus the substantive Chaga (the name
 
 Vlli PREFATORY NOTE. 
 
 of a district) gives rise to M-Chaga (sing., a native 
 of Chaga), Wa-Chaga (plur., natives of Chaga), 
 Ki-Chaga (the language of Chaga), etc., etc. 
 Among the Masai, again, the plural is indicated 
 by the particle ''el," e.g. el-moran (warriors), 
 el-moruu (elders). 
 
 Examples might easily be multiplied ; but these, 
 it is hoped, will suffice as a guide to the meaning 
 of such native terms as are not explained in the 
 text.
 
 U L U 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Our story commences in the month of April, 188-, 
 at the base of Kilimanjaro. The wet season was 
 near a close, and everything vegetable seemed to 
 have attained its greatest luxuriance. 
 
 The day was clear and bright, and the atmosphere 
 of that delicious purity and freshness so frequently 
 noticeable during the rains in Africa. 
 
 The sun, dii)ping rapidly towards the horizon, 
 commenced to veil its excessive splendour and 
 temper its somewhat oppressive heat. The first 
 puffs of a cool breeze fluttered refreshingly among 
 the leaves, and raised them from their languid 
 droop. The birds, awaking fi'om their noonday 
 siesta, arranged their feathers preparatory to re- 
 newed flight. All nature appeared to become 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 ULU, 
 
 reanimated with the lowering of the temperature 
 and the approach of evening. 
 
 In the forest of the Kahe, some miles to the south 
 of the mountain, there might have been seen on this 
 bright April afternoon a small party of hunters 
 wending their way campwards from the plains. 
 
 The principal figure in the band was a European 
 who might be any age between thirty and thirty- 
 five, the effects of exposure in the tropics making 
 it difficult to form a more accurate estimate. His 
 height was slightly above the average, and he 
 possessed a wiry figure which suggested great 
 stamina and endurance. His face, bronzed by 
 pitiless suns, though fairly good-looking, derived 
 its chief attraction from a pair of frank blue eyes 
 softened by a touch of dreaminess. 
 
 The dress of the hunter consisted of a flannel 
 shirt of neutral colour, well open, sailor fashion, 
 at the neck ; a pair of dark grey drill trousers ; 
 canvas gaiters and shoes. His head was covered 
 by a soft felt hat, jauntily tilted to one side, the 
 better to serve as a protection from the fierce, 
 slanting rays of the sun. His waist was orna- 
 mented as well as protected by an Indian kamar- 
 band, under which, attached to a belt, hung a 
 deadly looking hunting-knife and a revolver. An 
 Express rifle over the shoulder completed the 
 hunter's dress and accoutrements.
 
 ULU, 3 
 
 The rest of the party — five altogether — were 
 clearly the European's attendants, and belonged 
 to that race of negroes (Wa-Swahili) who, in the 
 absence of navigable rivers and beasts of burden, 
 have made it possible to explore Central Africa. 
 The M-Swahili who led the way was evidently a 
 leader among his fellows. His picturesquely ragged 
 apology for a dress hid little of a muscular figure 
 which seemed the very embodiment of strength 
 and activity, while his face, forbidding as that of 
 a bull-dog, suggested also that animal's fidelity to 
 the death. 
 
 The entire party were armed with rifles. Though 
 evidently familiar with the country they were 
 traversing, white man and negroes alike seemed 
 imbued with a sense of the importance of care and 
 watchfulness. With soft, feline steps they traversed 
 the forest pathway towards the mountain, careful 
 that not a sound should break the impressive 
 stillness which prevailed. Under the leafy arcades 
 the daylight was toned down to that most grateful 
 and subdued of lights, that soothing mellowness 
 which has been termed cathedral gloom. Here 
 and there only bright pencils of light broke through 
 the interstices of the foliage, and formed a golden 
 fretwork on the shaded ground. 
 
 As the party thus glided rather than walked 
 along, not an object bearing on their situation
 
 4 ULU. 
 
 escaped unnoticed, and every sound fell on attentive 
 ears. A mile or more had thus been covered, 
 with nothing seen or heard to cause alarm, when 
 suddenly the guide stood still, rigid in an attitude 
 of rapt attention. Like automatons controlled by 
 a master hand, those behind followed suit, awaiting 
 an explanatory signal. 
 
 In a few seconds the guide raised his hand. 
 Each man held his rifle ready for instant action, 
 though as yet those behind knew not the character 
 or magnitude of their danger. At length the 
 leader, after a period of intense scrutiny, shrank as 
 if blasted to the ground, disappearing behind a 
 bush. His companions required no orders. They 
 simply imitated, and in a twinkling the sole 
 evidence of the presence of eight men was here 
 and there the muzzle of a rifle peeping from 
 among the foliage. 
 
 After a brief interval of breathless suspense the 
 guide's head reappeared. In answer to a mute 
 summons the European wriggled himself forward 
 like a snake in the grass. 
 
 *' Ee-Masai !" whispered his servant, when the 
 two were close to each other. 
 
 A look, half of fear, half of pleasure, flitted 
 across the master's face. Gently he pushed aside 
 the screening branches, and the cause of the 
 mysterious stoppage appeared.
 
 ULU. 6 
 
 Through the forest, at right angles to the hunters' 
 homeward route, marched in single file a party of 
 savages. Their appearance and war-gear left no 
 doubt as to who they were. The swarthy band 
 which passed before the excited and eager watchers 
 belonged to that famous tribe of cattle-lifters who 
 are the terror of an enormous area in East Central 
 Africa, and whose deeds of daring and savagery 
 form the theme of a thousand extravagant stories. 
 They were, as the Zanzibari had stated, Masai 
 warriors ! 
 
 While recalling all he had heard of these strange 
 people, Gilmour — for such is the name of the white 
 man — was mentally remarking their admirable 
 proportions and unusual stature, but mingled with 
 his admiration were those less agreeable reflections 
 aroused by the thought of his dangerous position. 
 Fortunately his presence remained undiscovered, 
 and the Masai filed rapidly past and disappeared 
 in the forest, leaving the hunters to breathe more 
 freely and emerge from their hiding-place. 
 
 After making sure that no more were to follow, 
 Gilmour softly called on one Mahruki. 
 
 " Here, Bwana ! " replied a burly fellow, stepping 
 forward. 
 
 ''You and Songoro follow the Masai, and see 
 where they camp." 
 
 "Eh Wallah (yes)," replied Mahruki.
 
 6 ULV. 
 
 *' Don't let yourselyes be seen," cautioned the 
 master. 
 
 ''No fear of that, Bwana ! " grinned Songoro. 
 "We don't -want to be killed yet." 
 
 ''Well, go at once." 
 
 Without further remark the two scouts started 
 off on the trail of the Masai. 
 
 " Come, Uledi ; let us be off. The sooner we're 
 into camp the better." 
 
 " True, Bwana," replied the negro so addressed ; 
 and once more he took his place as guide or leader, 
 and resumed his swift, noiseless pace. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour the approach of the 
 hunting party to the mountain began to be 
 apparent by a gradually increasing rise of the 
 ground. The soil became drier and the forest 
 more open, here and there revealing charming 
 glades. 
 
 The dangerous part of the route was now passed. 
 The hunters relaxed their intense vigilance, and 
 sauntered along more easily and slowly. 
 
 " Well, Uledi," said Gilmour, having completed 
 mopping the perspiration from his face, " j^ou 
 were right, after all. I was beginning to think it 
 was all nonsense about the approach of the Masai." 
 
 "You see, master," answered Uledi, "I knew 
 this was their usual time. In the wet season they 
 raid towards the Nyanza ; in the dry towards the
 
 ULU. 7 
 
 coast. They won't bother us much more for a 
 month, though." 
 
 '* Why ? How do you know that ? " queried 
 Gilmour. 
 
 *' Evidently they are only spies. They have 
 not their war-dresses with them." 
 
 " You mean the naibere (war-cloth) and feather 
 ornaments, I suppose. Quite true. I remember 
 now, I did not notice them. There was only a 
 small party, too. I dare say we have nothing much 
 to fear." 
 
 '' We must be careful, however. They will be 
 sure to try to steal something to help them on their 
 way." 
 
 "Well, let them try," replied Gilmour, with a 
 laugh of conscious superiority. ** They won't get 
 much from us, at least." 
 
 "Ah, but they are like devils," cried Uledi. 
 " Nothing frightens them." 
 
 " Very likely," answered his master in a careless, 
 indifferent tone. " We must give old Seri warning, 
 though," he added, with more animation. " He'll 
 need to keep a sharp look-out now. Do you think 
 the Masai will be specially troublesome this year ? " 
 
 " I am sure of it. Last year they were very 
 unsuccessful in their raids, and Said bin Hamed's 
 caravan, which has just passed on its way from 
 Masai-land, reports much disease among the cattle."
 
 8 ULU. 
 
 " So they will make up their losses from their 
 neighbours' herds ? Yery convenient truly ! " 
 
 '* Well, I shall be glad to see them," added 
 Uledi, darkly. 
 
 '' Indeed? Why?" 
 
 *' Why ? you ask. Look at this, and this, and 
 this. That is my answer ! " and Uledi exhibited 
 several ugly scars. 
 
 " By Jove, Uledi, j^ou have had a narrow escape. 
 Masai spear- wounds, are they not ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And you mean to shoot a few in revenge, eh ? " 
 
 ''May I find my place in Gehenna if I don't ! " 
 was the negro's bloodthirsty answer. 
 
 *' Gently, Uiedi, gently. I can't have j'ou 
 shooting down even Masai except for some good 
 reason." 
 
 " What are they but fisi (hyaenas), Bwana ? " 
 argued the M-Swahili. " They kill all they meet ; 
 why should we not kill them ? " 
 
 ''Well, you see, we Wazungu don't quite like 
 the idea of shooting down human beings in cold 
 blood," was Gilmour's somewhat unsatisfactory 
 reply. " And while yoM are with a white man, 
 you must act like a wdiite man." 
 
 This rule of conduct Uledi received with a shrug 
 of the shoulders and a half-muttered exclamation 
 that " God was great," which probably implied
 
 VLU. 9 
 
 that in his opinion the Wazungu were incompre- 
 hensibly mad. 
 
 The next moment, however, seized by a sudden 
 impulse, he turned round and indicated by a sweep 
 of the hand the glorious stretch of country that 
 now lay at their feet. 
 
 " Look, Bwana, look at that beautiful land. Has 
 it not a soil more fertile than that of Zanzibar ? 
 Has it not trees like the Seyyed's tower for height ? 
 Look at the many streams which traverse it, with 
 water clear as the air, and refreshing as the stone- 
 water (ice) of your people. These streams are 
 stocked with fish ; the land teems with game ; the 
 trees droop with untouched loads of fruit. Is 
 there not everything which can delight the eye, 
 and food for men and women in numbers like 
 the sand on the sea-shore ? "Well, Bwana, how 
 many are there ? Not one. The elephant is king 
 of all by day, and the lion by night. And why, 
 Bwana ? Is it not because of the Masai, who 
 delight to wash their spears in blood ? And these 
 are the people you would spare — the people that 
 your malaams (teachers) would call brothers ? By 
 the beard of Mahomet — on whom be peace ! — I 
 would give them to the hyaenas, and let the vultures 
 tear out their eyes ! " 
 
 To this fiery outburst Gilmour listened with a 
 sense of surprise at the unexpected eloquence and
 
 10 ULU. 
 
 passion of his follower ; but he made no reply. 
 He had nothing, indeed, to reply, for Uledi had 
 expressed the very thoughts which had often passed 
 through his master's mind. 
 
 As our travellers continued their way up the 
 mountain the nature of the ground would not 
 permit of further conversation. With bent bodies 
 they followed the native paths which penetrated 
 the otherwise impassable bush and made com- 
 munication between plantations and villages 
 possible. 
 
 After a time Gilmour and his men struck into 
 a rich alley which led along the face of a steep, 
 tree-clad slope running down to the Urau river. 
 At length they reached a grove of trees, the entrance 
 to which was defended by a stout palisade. Here 
 Uledi fired his gun, and amid its deafening echoes 
 the party passed the gate and entered a cleared 
 space. Gilmour had reached Pepo-ni, his home for 
 the time being.
 
 ULU. 11 
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 Words cannot convey an adequate notion of the 
 singular charm and exquisite character of the 
 rocky dell which formed the quarters of Gilmour 
 on the sunny slopes of Kilimanjaro. In delight- 
 ful combination majestic trees intermingled with 
 fragrant flower-clad bushes round many a nook 
 where the checkered sunlight fell in golden glints, 
 or coolest shadow lingered invitingly. 
 
 This little Arcady occupied a niche in the face 
 of the mountain, and had at one time been used 
 as a burying-place by the Wa-Chaga. Thus ren- 
 dered a sacred abode of the spirits of the departed, 
 it had been left for generations to grow in its virgin 
 wildness. Under Gilmour's desecrating hands, 
 however, it speedily assumed a very different aspect, 
 and there was now little left to tell of its former 
 character. Only one part in the rear of the niche 
 had been permitted to retain its primitive luxuri- 
 ance. To open up the grove to sun and air, and
 
 12 ULU. 
 
 drive away its damps and noxious exhalations, the 
 greater part had been cut down, leaving only 
 a living wall of tropic verdure. Here could be 
 seen the stately giants of Africa — the mparamusi, 
 the more rugged mvule, and the copal-yielding 
 msandarusi. Beside them grew the fern-like raphia, 
 with its leaves thirty to forty feet long, the grace- 
 ful phaenix, or wild date, and the broad leaves of 
 the uncultivated banana. From tree to tree swung 
 festoons of llianes and graceful creepers, filling up 
 the interspaces and giving variety to the foliage. 
 
 Over a lava precipice at the back of the niche 
 tumbled a mountain stream, branching into two 
 arms which embraced the grove. 
 
 Eight in the centre of the cool retreat rose two 
 giant sycamores. Beneath these stood Gilmour's 
 house, so situated as to face a gap in the ring 
 of trees, for the double purpose of catching the full 
 effect of the morning and evening breezes, and to 
 command a view over the Kahe plains to the 
 Songonoi Mountains. The building, though palatial 
 for those parts, had no pretension to style ; but 
 looked delightfully cool and cosy, with its heavy 
 thatched roof and i^rojecting eaves. The walls 
 were formed of young trees stuck close together in 
 the ground in the manner of a fence or palisade. 
 Outside these, partly for ornament, partly for pro- 
 tection from wind and rain, were palm leaves.
 
 ULU. 13 
 
 the divisions plaited together on the midrib giving 
 the effect of close latticework. A bright-coloured 
 Zanzibar mat did duty as a door, while two square 
 openings in the wall, similarly closed when neces- 
 sary, gave light and air to the interior. 
 
 In the neighbourhood of the master's house 
 stood the baraza — reception or palaver house. 
 Being intended only for day use, it was built with 
 the object of having the maximum of shade and 
 coolness ; consequently had only a wall to the 
 back, along which ran a broad bench covered with 
 reeds. In the baraza visitors were received in 
 the Arab fashion, and a palaver or a cup of coffee 
 enjoyed. Here all men were on a footing of 
 equality, and servants and master forgot their 
 relative positions in familiar chat or discussion. 
 
 Behind the baraza and the Bwana's (master's) 
 house stood that of Uledi, with the storeroom and 
 the kitchen, while the huts of the men lay cosily 
 ensconced in a semicircle at the base of the wall 
 of forest verdm-e. 
 
 The return of Gilmour to his romantic quarters 
 produced one of those exciting hubbubs so dear to 
 the native heart. Men sprang to their feet from 
 an afternoon doze or gossip. "Women threw down 
 the wooden pestles with which they pounded corn, 
 or emerged from their huts, and ran with gleeful 
 cries to meet the hunters, pulling tighter the
 
 14 ULU. 
 
 simple sheets of brilliantly coloured cotton, which 
 did not ungraceful duty for dress. 
 
 ^'Bwana amarudi! (The master has returned)," 
 was shouted out on all sides, as if such an event 
 was the most unusual and unexpected of all things, 
 instead of being almost of daily occurrence. 
 *'Nyama! nyama ! (meat! meat!)" became an 
 additional shout, as two of the men staggered 
 through the gate, bearing a fine Pallah antelope. 
 In the midst of this joyful welcome, one man 
 relieved Gilmour of his rifle, another proffered a 
 drink of water. The women and children crowded 
 round, eager to be taken notice of. 
 
 The recipient of all these attentions was by no 
 means indifferent. His grave face lighted up 
 pleasantly over the effusiveness of his welcome. 
 In a playful mood he pinched the bare, plump arm 
 of one of the more forward girls, and pulled the 
 frizzy curls of another, both of which innocent 
 pleasantries were taken to be evidence of a vast 
 fund of humour, to judge from the shrieks of 
 laughter they evoked. 
 
 All this ingenuous animation was suddenly stilled 
 as the news that the Masai were out spread rapidly 
 from one to another. As the Bwana disappeared 
 into his house, anxious little knots gathered round 
 the hunters, eager to learn the details, which 
 certainly lost none of their importance as filtered
 
 ULV. 15 
 
 through the perfervid imaginations of the AVa- 
 Swahili. 
 
 In about half an hour Gilmour reappeared in 
 the cool comfort of voluminous pyjamahs. His 
 dinner had been laid for him outside the house for 
 greater coolness. With keen appetite he attacked 
 the hartebeest soup, fish from the Urau, and Chaga 
 mutton, with which were served sweet potatoes 
 and tomatoes from Taveta. Then followed delicious 
 banana fritters. 
 
 The meal finished, with the satisfied sigh of a 
 man who has done his duty, Gilmour left the table, 
 and in the fast -waning daylight sought the not 
 too luxurious comfort of a portable canvas chair. 
 Here, half reclining in the easy, unconventional 
 attitude affected by Americans, he sipped his coffee 
 and dreamily reviewed the events of the day, with 
 its fatigues passed and rest well earned. 
 
 As the short-lived twilight deepened, and evening 
 passed into night, his reverie was brought to an 
 end. Getting up, he took a last look around to see 
 that all was right. Guards were set with special 
 instructions in view of possible Masai attacks. 
 These necessary precautions taken, Gilmour tm-ned 
 in, happily unmolested by maddening mosquitoes 
 in these cool airy heights. 
 
 While Gilmour sleeps we may take the oppor-
 
 16 ULU. 
 
 tunity of making some inquiries regarding his 
 personality. So far we can gather hut the vaguest 
 indications. We have no difficulty in recognizing 
 at least that he is Scotch. His accent, like his 
 pride in his native country, he carries with him, 
 and in rolling out the rich musical syllables of the 
 Swahili language, he gives the vowels -that charac- 
 teristic breadth which is the peculiar pride of all 
 true Scotchmen. With so much we must at present 
 be content. To answer the questions. Who is 
 Gilmour ? and, Why is he at Kilimanjaro ? we 
 must refer the reader to the pages which follow. 
 
 Our knowledge of him begins in Africa, towards 
 the end of the year previous to that of which we 
 write, about which time Gilmour surprised the in- 
 habitants of Taveta by his sudden and unannounced 
 appearance among them with a caravan of coast 
 porters. 
 
 Here, much to his surprise and disappointment, 
 everything was different from what he had ex- 
 pected. Instead of the simple Arcadians who, a 
 few years before, had ''in glad idlesse throve," 
 he found morose savages, defrauded of their little 
 plots of ground, and groaning under the exactions 
 and tasks of European pioneers of modern civi- 
 lization, who spread its " blessings " through the 
 medium of its poisonous spirits. 
 
 It would appear that Gilmour had had the
 
 ULU. 17 
 
 intention of taking up his abode in Taveta, but 
 the changed asj^ect of the place determined him to 
 move further inland, the society of the representa- 
 tives of European enlightenment being anything 
 but agreeable or desirable to him. The whites, 
 though dying of curiosity to learn what might be 
 his object in coming among them, found them- 
 selves received politely, but as politely kept at 
 arm's-length. 
 
 On inquiry Gilmour learned that all the south- 
 east corner of Kilimanjaro was overrun by mis- 
 sionaries and German traders. These latter he 
 mentally stigmatized as the pioneers of European 
 drudgery, vices, and diseases, and dispensers of 
 old clothes, gin, gunpowder, and guns — a sweeping 
 description, showing at least that he looked with 
 no friendly eye upon the advancing tide of European 
 intercourse. 
 
 Apparently Gilmour wanted to find a place 
 where the negro still throve in uncontaminated 
 naturalism, and where he would not be brought 
 in contact with his fellow-countrymen. 
 
 At length his headman Uledi told him of a 
 little state called Kindi, to the west of Mandara's, 
 which as yet remained untainted by wazungu 
 (white men). They were sure of a hearty welcome, 
 more especially as the chief and Uledi were ''blood 
 brothers." This information decided Gilmour; 
 
 VOL. T. C
 
 18 ULU, 
 
 and, determined to see at least what Kindi was 
 like, he resumed his march as soon as his porters 
 had recruited a little after their toils and hard- 
 ships in the Nyika. 
 
 With some difficulty our hero escaped the greedy 
 clutches of the notorious Chaga chief Mandara. 
 On the third march he and his party reached Kindi, 
 where Uledi's description was not helied. There 
 were no Europeans, and the new-comers were 
 received with open arms. 
 
 Gilmour, in looking around for a suitable place 
 to form his camp, discovered the niche and sacred 
 grove of Pepo-ni (ghost-land). For a consideration 
 the Wa-Chaga consented to its desecration, as it 
 had not been used as a burial-ground for quite a 
 generation. Nevertheless they expected to see the 
 direst consequences befall the daring violator of 
 the haunts of their ancestors' spirits. 
 
 In a short time the place of ghosts was trans- 
 formed from an almost impenetrable, gloomy forest 
 jungle into the smiling homestead we have described. 
 
 Gilmour now shut himself off from all intercourse 
 with the European settlers at Taveta, to whom he 
 remained an enigma and a mystery. They could 
 discover no object he was bent on attaining, so 
 they dubbed him the hermit and the nondescript, 
 and left him alone. 
 
 He soon, however, became the wonder of Chaga,
 
 ULU, 19 
 
 as stories of his reckless hunting exploits with 
 buffaloes, elephants, and lions began to circulate ; 
 while a few simple medical cures and an exhibition 
 of some scientific curiosities raised the admiration 
 thus excited to adoration pitch. 
 
 Seri, the chief of Kindi, at first made an attempt 
 to exploit Gilmour, but got a fright for his pains. 
 His guest, however, was generous in the extreme, 
 and the two soon became great friends, so much 
 so that in all matters of importance Seri consulted 
 the white man as an infallible oracle that might 
 not be gainsaid.
 
 20 ULU. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The morning after the return from the hunt the 
 little camp at Pepo-ni was astir at daybreak. 
 After a bath in a pool reserved for the purpose in 
 the stream, Gilmour seated himself to discuss his 
 morning coffee, and prepared to hear the report of 
 Mahruki and Songoro, the two scouts of the day 
 previous. They had returned overnight, and, in 
 response to Gilmour's summons, now appeared, 
 wrapped in their long toga-like sheets of cotton. 
 
 They had followed the Masai till near sundown, 
 they said, when, evidently by pre-arrangement, the 
 band dispersed and each warrior took a different 
 direction. This manoeuvre on the part of the 
 Masai was supposed to be a precaution taken for 
 the purpose of hiding the whereabouts of their 
 camping- ground, and as far as Mahruki and 
 Songoro were concerned it had proved effectual ; 
 for, fearing lest they should be caught in following 
 up the track of any one warrior, they had im-
 
 ULU. 21 
 
 mediately retraced their steps with what news they 
 had gleaned. 
 
 " What do you think, Uledi ? " asked Gilmour, 
 appealing to his headman, in whose experience he 
 placed considerable trust. 
 
 "Without doubt, Mahruki and Songoro are 
 right," replied Uledi. '' The camp could not have 
 been far from where the band broke up. They 
 must mean to stay some time in the neighbourhood. 
 Yes ; they will want to lift some cattle to help them 
 towards the coast." 
 
 The theory seemed a highly probable one to 
 Gilmour, who at once gave orders that a number 
 of his men should prepare to accompany him to 
 Seri's, so as to give the chief timely warning of 
 the threatened danger. Shortly after, he set out 
 from Pepo-ni with some half-dozen followers, all 
 fully equipped with belt and rifle and the other 
 necessaries of men travelling in those wild regions. 
 
 The early morning was raw and foggy, and very 
 little of the previous evening's extended prospect 
 was to be seen ; but gradually the mist began to 
 disappear, and soon the grim, spectral outlines of 
 Meru and Sosonoi became dimly visible. Before 
 the glow of the ascending sun the landscape slowly 
 disrobed itself, until at length, gemmed and glitter- 
 ing with a mjTiad dewdrops, it lay exposed in all 
 its virgin beauty — only here and there a lingering
 
 22 ULU. 
 
 bit of cloud or soft expanse of haze giving relief 
 to the dark green of the forest or the blues of the 
 distant mountains. 
 
 An hour's easy ascent, except where the footpath 
 wound in low tunnels through the bush, brought 
 the party to the little village which formed the 
 head-quarters of Seri, chief of Kindi. The customary 
 three guns were fired at the outskirts to announce 
 the approach of strangers, and while yet the noise 
 re-echoed from every quarter and spread in ever- 
 widening reverberations along the mountain-sides, 
 a hundred voices rose from glade and grove in 
 excited response. 
 
 As Gilmour entered the banana plantations- 
 which gave food and shade to Seri's people, 
 men and women came trooping forth, eager for 
 a glimpse of the new-comers. The sight of the 
 Mzungu called forth a volley of salutations in Ki- 
 chaga, Ki-masai, Ki-swahili, and Arabic, to which 
 Gilmour replied as best he might, and then sought 
 the shelter of an open shed wherein to cool and 
 rest himself after his morning's climb. 
 
 Meanwhile, messengers were despatched in 
 search of the chief, pending whose arrival the ex- 
 citement calmed down somewhat, and every man 
 disposed himself in his favourite attitude for gossip 
 and gazing. Sticking their great gleaming spears 
 in the ground, and wrapping their cotton sheets 
 more closely about them, the Wa-Chaga warriors.
 
 ULu. 23 
 
 squatted down, looking like so many Mexican 
 mummies as they sat with arms embracing legs 
 and chin almost resting on knees. Some smoked, 
 some chewed their tooth-sticks, while the livelier 
 among them gave vent to their feelings in low- 
 toned remarks — curious, speculative, or critical — 
 regarding Gilmour and the object of his visit. 
 
 Before many minutes were over the approach of 
 the chief was announced. With a certain air of 
 grace and native dignity, born of a free, active life 
 and the consciousness of his importance in the 
 little state over which he ruled with success, Seri, 
 surrounded by his headmen, advanced with leisurely 
 steps, as if to proclaim his superiority to haste or 
 vulgar curiosity. A nearer view revealed a negro 
 who had few of that despised race's characteristics 
 beyond the dark colour of his skin. Strong and 
 supple as a panther, he had a face which could 
 lighten with the most attractive and intelligent 
 expression, or darken with savage hate and fury. 
 It was full of kindness now, however, as with 
 becoming dignity he came towards Gilmour, and 
 took him by the hand, bidding him welcome with 
 numerous ''Yambos" after the Swahili fashion. 
 Sticking his spear in the ground, the chief then, 
 like his warriors, assumed a squatting posture, 
 and after further salaams and compliments asked 
 Gilmour the nature of his news.
 
 24 ULU. 
 
 ''I came to give you warning," replied Gilmour, 
 bluntly. '^ The Masai are on the warpath." 
 
 The unexpected announcement fell like a bomb 
 among the Wa-Chaga. Moved by a common 
 impulse, they sprang to their feet as one man, 
 •with a half-suppressed inarticulate exclamation. 
 Eeleased by a sudden movement of the arm, 
 their voluminous cotton wrappings fell from them 
 like scales, as with quick, convulsive grasp each 
 seized the ever-ready spear and shield, and stood 
 looking towards his chief as if awaiting some 
 expected signal. The transformation from peace- 
 able, gossip-loving listeners, draped with almost 
 classical grace, to naked, savage warriors instinct 
 with the most malignant passions, was striking in 
 the extreme. It was as if the banana grove had 
 suddenly been peopled with devils, who waited but 
 the master spirit's word of command to commence 
 some horrible orgy. 
 
 At Gilmour' s words Seri, too, had jumped to his 
 feet as if bitten by an adder. Instinctively he 
 seized a knobkerry which lay near at hand, and 
 sprang upon a little knoll, where for a moment he 
 stood like some swarthy Mercury or Apollo, the 
 sun glancing on his dark, shining skin ; then, with 
 one quick, eager glance around, he whirled his 
 weapon in the air and gave voice to a terrible cry 
 that seemed to embody the very spirit of war.
 
 ULU, 25 
 
 Eage, revenge, defiance, agony, and grief mingled 
 in eerie combination in the ^ild notes that rent 
 the forest and sent a shiver through the marrow of 
 all who heard it. A moment's silence, broken only 
 by mocking echoes, followed. Once more the chief 
 twirled his knobkerry over his head. Fifty spears 
 flashed responsive in the aii*, and from the throats 
 of as many warriors the war-cry rose in one grand 
 volley, making the welkin ring with the hideous 
 sound. 
 
 A scene of indescribable excitement now com- 
 menced. With wild leaps and dashes the men 
 threw themselves about, heaping insults and 
 execrations on imaginary foes, or plunging their 
 spears into the quivering banana stems, as if each 
 thrust went to the heart of an enemy. Knobkerries 
 thundered defiantly against great buffalo-hide 
 shields, adding their horrible din to the shriller 
 notes of the war-cry which still echoed far and 
 near. It was caught up on every ridge-top, re- 
 sounded in every glen and forest — the very ground 
 seemed to have acquired a thousand tongues. In 
 ever-widening circles, in a hundred tones and 
 echoes, undistinguishable from real voices, it 
 spread with astonishing rapidity over the length 
 and breadth of Kindi; and in less time almost 
 than we have taken to describe it every inhabitant 
 knew there was war and bloodshed in the air.
 
 2G ULU. 
 
 Women, "^'aiting for no other -syarning, seized their 
 children and fled precipitately to places of safety. 
 Men, eager for the tight, threw down their hoes 
 and grasped their spears, donned the feather head- 
 dress and other accoutrements of savage warfare, 
 and trooped into the village in frantic haste. In 
 less than half an hour from the first signal the 
 entire population of Kindi was under arms. 
 
 The magical effect of his communication at first 
 completely overwhelmed Gilmour, and for the 
 moment he was carried away by the excitement of 
 the scene. As soon, however, as the first outburst 
 of fury had exhausted itself, he hastened to explain 
 that the Masai were not in force ; that indeed he 
 had only discovered a small party of spies, who 
 could not prove very dangerous in themselves, 
 though their presence might indicate the approach 
 of greater numbers. 
 
 Savage races change like summer skies, passing 
 with rapidity from storm to smiling sunshine. No 
 sooner had Seri's people calmed down sufficiently 
 to listen to Gilmour's reassuring words than the 
 war fever fell away as quickly as it had arisen, and 
 where the warriors had come to fight they remained 
 to dance. Clearly they were nothing loth to 
 display themselves in the fierce splendour of their 
 war-gear, wherein each man's endeavour was to 
 outdo his neighbour in savagery of aspect. Nor
 
 ULU. 27 
 
 did they regret the opportunity of parading thus 
 arrayed before the women, who, now that there 
 was no fear of danger, began to reappear, and 
 chistered in delighted groups to gaze with admira- 
 tion on the brilliant appearance of their protectors, 
 as they strutted like fighting-cocks under their eyes. 
 
 A grand ngomma, or dance, was arranged for 
 the evening, when there would be full moon — 
 an inspiring influence without which the Bantu 
 races are incapable of mustering up the requisite 
 amount of spirit for the sufficiently arduous series 
 of evolutions included by them under the idea of 
 dancing. 
 
 Meanwhile Seri set himself to look after the 
 physical comforts of his visitors. Under the direc- 
 tion of the cook huge chunks of goat and ribs of 
 fat-tailed sheep were spitted on sticks and roasted 
 before the fire, while sweet jpotatoes in their own 
 jackets cooked among the hot cinders. With this, 
 wholesome, if not dainty, fare Gilmour's by no 
 means fastidious appetite was speedily appeased, 
 and the impromptu banquet over, he was called 
 away for a shauri, or talk with the chief. 
 
 Seri's house proved to be one of some pretension 
 for these parts. It was quadrangular in shape, and 
 had clay-built walls in the coast style. Alow door- 
 way for entrance formed also the only aperture for 
 the admission of light and air. The interior was in
 
 28 ULTI. 
 
 consequence somewhat gloomy, but felt pleasantly 
 cool and refreshing after the glare of the sun. 
 Around the house ^Yere a number of circular huts 
 well stocked with wives and children, the whole 
 being enclosed by a strong palisade, which not 
 only ensured greater privacy, but also served for 
 defensive purposes. 
 
 On entering the hut Gilmour was invited to sit 
 down on a species of bench which did duty as 
 a seat or as a bed, as circumstances required. 
 
 A few moments' silence then intervened, as if to 
 indicate that with two such great personages there 
 need be no indecent haste. 
 
 "Well, mzungu (white man)," commenced Seri 
 at last, " you have seen that my young men do not 
 sleep when danger is near, and that, like young 
 lions, they are eager to taste blood." 
 
 " True," replied Gilmour, adopting the native 
 language and manner of speech. "Your warriors 
 swoop down upon their enemies like the eagles and 
 grasp their hearts with their claws. Your women 
 and children may laugh in the faces of the Masai 
 with such husbands and fathers." 
 
 Seri seemed pleased by the compliment, but 
 considered it beneath his dignity to acknowledge it. 
 " Our numbers, however, are small," he went on 
 deprecatingly, "and our foes are in multitude as 
 the ants. Mandara on the one hand and Machame
 
 ULU. 20 
 
 on the other lie in w'ait to seize my country, and 
 the Masai, like hyaenas, prowl about our sheep and 
 cattle kraals. What can we do against so many, 
 though our hearts are bold and om- spears sharp ? '^ 
 
 Not knowing how to reply to this somewhat wide 
 question, Gilmour simply assumed a grave face, 
 supposed to indicate his appreciation of the diffi- 
 culties of the situation, and in silence awaited the 
 chief's next remark. 
 
 " Look around you," Seri went on dramatically, 
 ^' and you will see plantations uncultivated or crops 
 destroyed. Daily we become fewer and poorer, and 
 our children cry out for more food." 
 
 Again the chief paused, and again Gilmour 
 waited, secretly wondering what was to be the 
 upshot of this long tirade. 
 
 " To you, oh mganga mkubwa (great medicine 
 man), we look for safety. You converse with the 
 spirits ; you know how to shoot your enemy to the 
 heart, though mountains separate jo\x. Make us, 
 then, some powerful medicine to take the courage 
 from our foes, and sweep them off like the pestilence 
 which stalks unseen amongst us, and we pass away 
 to the spirit-land." 
 
 "Nay," answered Gilmour; '^ I have no such 
 supernatural power. You must address yourself 
 to Maungu (God)." 
 
 " The Maungu to whom we pray is not like that
 
 30 ULU. 
 
 of the white man. He delights in evil and the 
 stirring up of strife and bloodshed. We have more 
 de^Dendence on you. Our hunters have seen your 
 magic in the slaying of the elephant and the 
 buffalo. No one who is not an Mganga could do 
 the things told of you." 
 
 *'Your men have reported wrongly of me. 
 Courage, a good eye, and a white man's rifle are 
 the only powers at my command, and these are at 
 your service whenever you have need of them. 
 Am I not a guest in your house and country ? " 
 
 ** But, like the other white men we have seen 
 amongst us, you will soon depart ; then our hearts 
 will be heavy and our enemies will rejoice." 
 
 " No," replied Gilmour ; '' I have no intention of 
 departing. No wife waits for me in Ulyiah ; no 
 children call me home." 
 
 ''Your answer makes our droo]Ding hearts dance 
 with joy. But if you will indeed make my country 
 your country, why live solitary with no women in 
 your house ? You have wealth to buy a hundred. 
 "Why not take some wives from among our maidens '? 
 There are scores who would be glad to cook your 
 food and sweep out the house, and plenty of fathers 
 are eager to give you their daughters for the 
 customary consideration." 
 
 This offhand way of stating the matter appeared 
 to amuse Gilmour immensely ; but, seeing Seri's
 
 ULU. 31 
 
 earnestness, lie gravely proceeded to explain that 
 an mzungu takes but one \\ife to his house, and 
 seldom buys her, though sometimes she buys him. 
 He also endeavoured to make clear the astounding 
 and incomprehensible facts that many white men 
 never even take one wife, and that of those who do 
 a yet greater number would be glad to get rid of 
 the one each has, only — still more incomprehen- 
 sible to the native mind — they are not allowed to 
 part with them. 
 
 *' The white men are more full of wisdom than 
 the rabbit, and we, who are in knowledge like 
 stones, cannot understand them," was Seri's con- 
 clusive reply ; after which he sank into silence, as 
 if requiring some time to digest the wonders he had 
 heard. He was genuinely anxious, however, to 
 keep Gilmour in the country, knowing the import- 
 ance his presence gave him, as well as the addi- 
 tional security from attack. To secure this end, 
 he had shrewdly considered that the best way 
 would be to get Gilmour to marry one of the Wa- 
 chaga. Accordingly, dismissing the mystery of 
 civilized marriage customs from his mind after 
 a brief interval of fruitless meditation, he returned 
 to the subject from his own point of view, and once 
 more addressed Gilmour. 
 
 *' In a meeting of our headmen we have dis- 
 cussed the question," he began. ''All have won-
 
 32 ULTJ. 
 
 dered at, and many have pitied, your strange mode 
 of life without a wife. They would like to see you 
 take one — if ten, all the better ; it would be more 
 fitting your importance. You say you do not buy 
 wives in Ulyiah. We will not ask you to do so. 
 Has your eye not rested on any of our daughters ? 
 If so, speak, and she will be yours for the asking, 
 though worth fifty bullocks. Their skins are not 
 white, but they are glossy and well oiled. To run 
 yom- errands they will be fleet as the pallah, and 
 they will not fall under a weight of sixty pounds, 
 carried from morning till night. They will be 
 pleasant or useful to you according as you shall 
 wish." 
 
 At this point Gilmour was about to burst out 
 with a description of the status of wives in Europe, 
 but recognizing how impossible it was for the man 
 before him to understand the situation, he forbore 
 the intended enlightenment, and professed to enter 
 into Seri's ideas on the matter. 
 
 "Many thanks for your offer," he said. "I 
 know that a good Mchaga maiden is worth not less 
 than fifty bullocks. True^ in our country they say 
 it is not good to mate the white with the black ; 
 but here it seems to be different. I shall look 
 around, and perhaps I may see some damsel who 
 will please me." 
 
 " To hear that you are so disposed will brighten
 
 ULU. 33 
 
 the eyes of all the j'oung maidens. But let me 
 first show you one of my daughters who already 
 longs to cross your threshold. I can assm'e you 
 she is worth at least a hundred bullocks ; but if 
 she pleases you you shall have her for nothing, 
 though I have no doubt you will not forget the 
 sacrifice I am making. I shall go and call her." 
 
 " Stop, stop ! " shouted Gilmour, half amused, 
 half alarmed at the chief's energetic interest in his 
 matrimonial engagements. 
 
 The warning came too late, however ; Seri had 
 akeady left the hut, and Gilmom-, hardly reahzing 
 as yet that the matter had assumed a serious aspect, 
 did not trouble to go after him. The auctioneer- 
 like fashion in which Seri had appraised the 
 value of woman as a domestic comfort tickled 
 Gilmour immensely, and as the vision of himself 
 inspecting the coming candidate for wifehood and 
 leism-ely taking in her " points " rose before his 
 mind, he fairly burst out laughing. He quickly 
 grew thoughtful, however, as he remembered that 
 what to him seemed only a sublime joke was to 
 Seri a piece of sober earnest. Evidently Seri fully 
 believed that Gilmour intended to marry, and the 
 question with him now was not would he choose 
 a wife at all, but would his (Seri's) daughter have 
 the honom- of occupying that distinguished posi- 
 tion. For the first time the enormity of such an 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 ULU, 
 
 alliance presented itself to Gilmour, and an in- 
 voluntary shudder of disgust and repugnance 
 passed over him. All his civilized instincts, 
 which he had deceived himself into believing to be 
 long since dead and buried, suddenly rose in revolt. 
 Marry a savage ? How monstrous ! how impos- 
 sible ! And Gilmour's face assumed an expressive 
 grimace, as if to his nose had come wafted an 
 odour of rancid castor-oil mixed with lamp-black, 
 an unsavoury compound with which he had oft 
 been wont to see the Chaga belles anoint them- 
 selves. 
 
 Scarcely, however, had the idea of the imprac- 
 ticability of such a union taken the form of a 
 definite conclusion, than, with characteristic in- 
 consistency, our hero commenced to urge reasons 
 in support of an exactly opposite theory. The 
 feeling of defiant revolt against all things civilized 
 and conventional in which he had lived for some 
 months past began to reassert itself, and therewith 
 the prospect of a swarthy bride grew more enticing. 
 Why should he not marry a savage, and so bring 
 his contempt for society and social frauds to a 
 fitting climax ? To gratify this feeling and have 
 the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Grundy stand aghast, 
 was it not worth his while to do some violence even 
 to his own sentiments in the matter, which per- 
 haps, after all, only indicated a lingering touch of
 
 ULU. 35 
 
 the old leaven of artificiality he so earnestly desired 
 to see purged out ? Would it ever be purged out ? 
 he wondered. Was he, indeed, taking the right 
 way to bring about such a desirable end ? What 
 good did it do either to society or to himself, his 
 living this selfish, isolated life, nursing his wrath 
 and raving like a madman over his broken gods ? 
 To have taken refuge from his dissatisfaction with 
 the world in flight, was it not almost as cowardly 
 as suicide — more useless, too, since even in his 
 exile he could not quite shake himself free of the 
 old bonds of custom and prejudice ? Ought he not 
 rather to have faced his disappointment, manfully 
 lived it down, and remained among his fellows, to 
 teach the nobler of them how, in the widest sense, 
 to be " in the world but not of it " — how, indeed, 
 to be men, and not Fashion's weak machines ? 
 
 As Gilmour's thoughts took this turn the 
 memory of the past idle, wasted months rushed 
 upon him, and the contempt and disgust he had 
 been for so long cherishing against society was 
 suddenly diverted towards himself. '' What a fool 
 I have been," he muttered as he drew himself up 
 with an air of resolve, ''living here all this while, 
 and caring for no one but myself. It is high time 
 I had something to occupy me, something to keep 
 me from eternally harping on the same old strings. 
 But what can I do in this outlandish place ? Oh,
 
 36 ULU, 
 
 I had forgotten; there is this proposed marriage. 
 H'm ! the prospect doesn't seem inviting. To 
 marry a negress for the sake of having something 
 to care for besides one's self ! Plenty of room for 
 self-sacrifice there, I should fancy ! I wonder, 
 now, if I could care for a negress ? After all, why 
 not ? A man grows fond of his dog, and even 
 gets to have a certain feeling of companionship for 
 him ; I suppose it would be equally possible with 
 an M-Chaga maiden — some fresh, budding young 
 child of nature, even although black and barbaric. 
 There was something quite taking in that expres- 
 sion of old Seri's about ' a woman in your house ; ' 
 it makes ' house ' sound like ' home.' There's a 
 sort of fascination about the idea of a woman's 
 smile and a woman's welcome greeting you on your 
 return after an absence — something infinitely 
 superior to the * watch-dog's honest bark.' By- 
 the-by, that's Byron's. What's the rest of the 
 quotation, I wonder? "Tis sweet'— eh? — * 'tis 
 
 sweet to ' I really believe I have forgotten how 
 
 it goes, . . . Well, no matter. . . . What was I 
 saying ? . . . Oh, I remember now. Yes, a woman 
 in my house would certainly be quite an acquisition. 
 How I could talk to her, unbend and prattle to her, 
 as I cannot to my men, to whom I must always 
 remain the ^ Bwan' mkubwa.' Even if a negress, 
 is she not a human being with the feelings and
 
 ULU, 37 
 
 passions common to humanity ? True, there would 
 be great disparity between us ; but, after all, would 
 it be much greater than the disparity that exists 
 in many instances at home — that is, I mean, in 
 civilized society ? Then, here we live under more 
 primitive customs, and if the experiment proves a 
 failure the remedy is simple. You have only to 
 say, 'Here is so much cotton and beads as a 
 present ; go back to your father.' No one will 
 say, * Why have you done this thing ? ' H'm ! 
 Gently, gently, Tom, my boy ; I am not so sure 
 about that. Suppose I should call forth a genuine 
 affection in this girl ; suppose I should raise her 
 above the level of her fellows, and after all turn 
 her adrift ; would she not turn and upbraid me ? 
 Is there not a something within myself that would 
 not be silenced, however much I might try to stifle 
 it with sophistries? But why should I bother 
 about the matter at all ? What have I to do with 
 marriage ? What are women to me, black women 
 in particular ? Marry a little savage ? Put her 
 
 in the place of my — my Good God ! what am 
 
 I saying?" he exclaimed aloud. "Shall I never 
 forget my old sweet, foolish dream ? Bah ! what 
 a fool I am ! " he went on, springing to his feet, 
 and in bitterness of soul pacing the hut like a 
 caged lion, " always keeping the old sore open 
 and railing against fate, as if the world were not
 
 38 ULU. 
 
 full of shattered hopes and disappointed ambitions, 
 as if I were the only man who had staked his all 
 upon a woman's smile and lost. Yes, I will marry 
 an M-Chaga girl ; I ivill shake myself free of this 
 bugbear of a past. After all, she may be the 
 saving of me. She will be something — I shall not 
 say to amuse me, but to interest me and rouse me 
 a little. That dumb, unawakened mind of hers ; 
 those sleeping thoughts and impulses — I shall teach 
 them to speak, I shall teach them to live. By 
 Jove ! the idea is splendid. Just think of it. To 
 watch the development, if not the birth, of a 
 human soul ; to see it expand under my fostering 
 care and gradually take on the higher attributes of 
 humanity, gradually begin to reflect some of the 
 sweetness and light of — well, I don't exactly know 
 what, but it doesn't much matter. If that is not 
 
 something worth living for, I'll " 
 
 " Bwan' mkubwa, yambo ? " was the salutation 
 which here broke in upon Gilmour's soliloquy, and 
 startled him back from the ecstatic heights of 
 imagination to which he had been carried on the 
 wings of his ardent and romantic temperament. 
 With quick expectancy he turned towards the door ; 
 but what he saw on looking round we may reserve 
 for another chapter.
 
 ULU, 39 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 While Gilmour was engaged in the brown study 
 we have just described, there had entered, unper- 
 ceived by him, an M-Chaga maiden, who might 
 be about fourteen years of age — the marriageable 
 period in these tropical climes. 
 
 On stepping into the semi-darkness of the hut, 
 the girl looked timidly round with the half-wild, half- 
 eagerly curious look which distinguishes animals 
 on entering places where the unexpected might 
 happen. As she stood thus in her piquant native 
 simplicity, with nothing to hide her lissom supple 
 figure but a daintily dressed kidskin depending 
 from her waist, she looked the very personification 
 of wild natural grace and beauty. Thick brass 
 rings clasped her ankles, wrists, and neck, and 
 heavy earrings distended the lobes of her ears. 
 The hair was completely shaved from her head, 
 and her budding breasts peeped coquettishly from
 
 40 ULU. 
 
 beneath strings of beads and chains. The light, 
 almost bronze colour of her well-oiled skin, the 
 superior type of skull and face, and the bright, 
 swimming eyes indicated a parentage different from 
 the Wa-Chaga, though to that race might fairly be 
 ascribed the snow-white teeth which temptingly 
 glistened between her dark and by no means thick 
 lips. 
 
 The quick, eager glance of this wild mountain 
 slip soon fell upon Gilmour's grave, frank face, 
 lighted up at that moment with his new-born 
 enthusiasm. Eeassured by the sight, she glided 
 noiselessly, with her unsandalled feet, across the 
 floor of the hut towards the mzungu (white man). 
 Bending before him, with one knee on the ground, 
 she uttered in a low, soft musical voice the 
 Swahili salutation which had startled Gilmour 
 from his reverie. 
 
 ''Bwan' mkubwa, yambo?" (Great master, how 
 do you do ?) 
 
 Looking up with a confused start, Gilmour saw 
 before him just such a girl as he had been thinking 
 of as a possible mate and companion. " What a 
 pretty girl ! " was the thought which crossed his 
 mind, as he scanned the maiden searchingly, and 
 noted approvingly her admirable proportions and 
 graceful, submissive pose. 
 
 "Yambo sana (I am well)," he at length replied.
 
 ULXI. 41 
 
 " Who is this damsel ? " he queried, as Seri entered 
 the hut. 
 
 " This is Ulu. She is my daughter," replied the 
 chief, with paternal pride. "Have I not spoken 
 truly in putting her value at one hundred bullocks ? 
 Is she not equal in beauty to the houris of whom 
 the Wa-Swahili speak? Just look at her build! 
 There is strength and beauty ! Did you ever see 
 such " 
 
 " Well, never mind," smilingly interrupted Gil- 
 mour, as the chief, in his eagerness to dispose of 
 his daughter, was for entering into unnecessary 
 detail about her "points." "She is all that you 
 have said. But of what tribe is she ? There are 
 no Wa-Chaga girls like this maiden." 
 
 " She is my daughter, and therefore an M-Chaga," 
 somewhat haughtily replied Seri, touched in his 
 paternal and national pride. "Her mother is a 
 Masai captured in war." 
 
 "Oh, now I understand! Is this the daughter 
 you would give me to gladden my house at 
 Pei30-ni ? " 
 
 " She is yours. May you find her worthy to 
 wash your feet ! " 
 
 To this Gilmour only replied with a quiet 
 laugh. "What is your name, mtoto (child)"? 
 he asked encouragingly. 
 
 "Ulu," was the reply, each soft syllable cooed
 
 42 ULU. 
 
 out most musically ; while bashfully the girl cast 
 her eyes to the ground, and with her fingers traced 
 lines in the sand which strewed the floor. 
 
 *' Your father says you are to be mine. How 
 would you like to be the white man's mate ? " 
 
 In reply Ulu only turned the liquid depths of 
 her gazelle-like eyes upon her questioner in mute 
 surprise and astonishment. To have her opinion 
 asked as to the disposal of her soul and body was 
 altogether new in her experience. 
 
 " Speak, mtoto ! Would you like to go with me ? " 
 
 "Ulu is in the hands of the mzungu. She will 
 be his slave." 
 
 ''Oh, but look here, you know ! " Gilmour com- 
 menced impetuously, but, with a smile, repressed 
 himself. "Would you not be afraid to live with 
 the mzungu ? Our enemies say that the white 
 man feeds on children, and lives at the bottom of 
 the great water beyond the mrima (coast). Then, 
 look how white my skin is — whiter even than that 
 of the albinos among your people! " Here Gilmour 
 rolled up his sleeve, and showed his arm where 
 it was unburned by African suns ; while Ulu, to 
 express her astonishment, opened her mouth wide, 
 and held her open hand in front of it, as people 
 sometimes do to hide a yawn. 
 
 " Your skin is like the glittering snow on Kibo," 
 she exclaimed at length, " but I shall learn to
 
 ULU, 43 
 
 look upon it and not become blind. May I touch 
 it?" 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 Permission given, Ulu, still awestruck by the 
 wonderful sight hitherto concealed by Gilmour's 
 shirt-sleeve, timorously applied her little black 
 finger to his arm, as if she might be burned or 
 get an electric shock. 
 
 "Don't be afraid; it won't hurt you," said 
 Gilmour, encouragingly, as she quickly drew back 
 her hand to cover once more her widely distended 
 mouth. *'Well, now, Ulu," he went on, "if you 
 go with me, you will have to dress differently. 
 You won't mind wearing more clothes, will you ? 
 — something like the women of my people. No. 
 All right, then. But there are other things besides 
 that you will have to change. You must give up 
 rubbing yourself with oil, and wash frequently with 
 water and sabuni (soap)." 
 
 This time not only Ulu's mouth, but her eyes 
 also, opened wide with profound amazement. 
 Here, indeed, was an incomprehensible condition 
 attached to her marriage with the mzungu. An 
 expression of consternation mingled with her look 
 of astonishment, as she pictured herself like the 
 poorest of the poor, without a coating of oil. 
 What an object of contempt and ridicule she 
 would be ! And she shivered slightly, as if she felt
 
 44 ULU. 
 
 a foretaste of the cold and discomfort she would 
 experience without her daily luhrication. To Ulu 
 oil was not only an adornment, but in a manner 
 her clothes. 
 
 " Ulu will learn to do as the great master 
 desires," she at length stammered out ; but she 
 looked up beseechingly at her father, mutely 
 demanding his opinion on this unheard-of proposal. 
 
 Seri had listened with as great surprise as his 
 daughter, but he gave no expression to it. It 
 mattered little to him how Gilmour treated her. 
 He had done his duty as a father in selling her for 
 a political consideration. 
 
 ''You had better prepare to go with me, then, 
 mtoto. Stop a minute, though," cried Gilmour, 
 going to the door and shouting an order to Uledi. 
 ''Give me that bag. Yes, that is what I want. 
 Now, Ulu, take this ! There is something nice for 
 you;" and Gilmour put around the neck of the 
 timid girl a string of highly prized beads. 
 
 This present brought back the smiles to Ulu's 
 troubled face, and matrimony acquiring for the 
 moment brighter hues by this earnest of the 
 wealth which was in store for her, she tripped out 
 of the hut to show off her riches and discuss her 
 approaching departure to Pepo-ni. 
 
 " "Well," commenced Gilmour, when Ulu had 
 disappeared, " I like your daughter very much.
 
 ULU. 45 
 
 and I shall take her with me. Only, you see, she 
 is not fit to be my wife, and " 
 
 '' She is but worthy to be your slave," inter- 
 rupted Seri, afraid that the negotiations might even 
 yet fall through, and anxious to attach Gilmour to 
 him at any price. 
 
 " Let me explain myself. She has much to 
 learn before she is fit to be the wife of the white 
 man ; and, besides, you know, white men never 
 marry girls of her age." 
 
 " The Wa-Chaga are, indeed, washenzi (wild or 
 savage people) beside the wazungu," chimed in 
 Seri, humbly. 
 
 " Now, this is what I shall do. Ulu will go with 
 me to Pepo-ni. She will not, however, enter my 
 house yet, but be placed with the wife of Uledi. I 
 shall then teach her to become like the wives of 
 our people. Afterwards she may become my wife. 
 If, however, I find that impossible, I shall send her 
 back to you, for she cannot remain with me as my 
 servant or my slave." 
 
 '' The ways of the wazungu are beyond the 
 comprehension of the Wa-Chaga," replied Seri. ''I 
 cannot understand what you want to do with her. 
 She is strong and can carry your loads. She is 
 quick and can run your messages. She can cook 
 your food and shampoo your feet. She is beautiful, 
 and therefore desirable. What more can you
 
 46 ULU. 
 
 desire in an}^ one who is only a Tvoman ? Do the 
 wives of the wazungu fight for them, or do they 
 hunt the antelope and the buffalo for food in 
 Ulyiah ? If not, of what use are they more than 
 Ulu ? " 
 
 " Oh," cried Gilmour, *' our women do none of 
 these things. They only work in our houses. But 
 
 then, you know, they are — that is — er " 
 
 Here Gilmour stopped short, once more remember- 
 ing that Seri could not understand the status of 
 wives in Europe, and the social position they 
 possessed. 
 
 '' No matter, Bwan' mkubwa ! " added Seri. 
 '^ Do whatever you like with her; only" — here a 
 little paternal feeling arose in the chiefs heart — 
 " only don't eat her, or cut her up to make 
 uchawi (black magic)." 
 
 " Oh, don't be afraid of that," answered Gilmour, 
 laughing. ''You will see her often, and hear 
 how she is being treated. If she does not like it 
 she can always return home to you." 
 
 " Good, mzungu ! I am satisfied." 
 
 There was a moment's silence. Then Gilmour 
 sprang to his feet and prepared to go, unable any 
 longer to stand the oppressive atmosphere of the 
 hut. 
 
 *' Stop, Bwana, stop a minute ! " exclaimed 
 Seri, as his guest took a step towards the door.
 
 ULU. 47 
 
 '' Well, what is it ? " 
 
 "You won't forget that I did not sell Ulu to 
 you ? " 
 
 *' Oh, I shan't forget ! " 
 
 *' I am going to hunt buffalo to-morrow," con- 
 tinued Seri. " Our guns are useless. Won't you 
 give me one of yours ? Just as it were to complete 
 the bargain." 
 
 *' Oh, well, I don't mind giving you one, under 
 the circumstances," replied Gilmour. 
 
 *' With some powder and balls ? " 
 
 "Yes, you must have that, too, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Oh, the wazungu are indeed beyond praise 
 for generosity. But stay just one moment. The 
 nights are now becoming very cold, and you see I 
 am almost naked. Y^ou would not like Ulu's father 
 to go about like a wild beast. You are great and 
 wealthy. Won't you give me some cloth ? " 
 
 " Oh, come now ; this is too much ! " cried 
 Gilmour, annoyed and yet amused at the way in 
 which Seri was losing no time in taking advantage 
 of their new relationship. 
 
 " Oh, Bwana, what is a little cloth to you ? " 
 asked Seri, in a short and disajppointed voice. " It 
 will only be a small mark of friendship. Great 
 chiefs like ourselves do not deal in the manner of 
 traders." 
 
 "Humph!" grunted the white man. "I shall
 
 48 ULU. 
 
 have to see when I get back to Pepo-ni what I 
 can afford to give you. Perhaps among my paltry 
 stores I may find something for you." 
 
 " Thanks, Bwana, thanks." 
 
 *' But remember, only this once." 
 
 *' Oh, certainly. Your generosity has satisfied 
 me for life. My heart overflows in contemplating 
 your greatness ! " 
 
 ''A nice nuisance you'll be!" was Gilmour's 
 mental comment, as passing forth he inhaled with 
 a sense of relief a long breath of fresh air, after 
 the confined and unpleasantly odoriferous atmo- 
 sphere of the hut. 
 
 The aspect of the banana-clad knoll was now 
 very different from the wild scene it had presented 
 two hours before. 
 
 The fresh morning breeze had died away, leaving 
 the air heavy and languorous. The sun had 
 reached the zenith, and its heat and brilliancy were 
 overpowering. The monkeys in the wood had ceased 
 to chatter ; the leaves of the trees hung drooping 
 as if dying ; the birds had ceased to flit about, and 
 only at rare intervals a gaily coloured butterfly 
 fluttered past, or beetle buzzed noisily through the 
 motionless air. The natives, never loth to pass 
 the time sleeping, had sought the shadiest nooks 
 for a siesta along with the fat goats and sadly 
 tail-burdened sheep.
 
 ULU. 49 
 
 Gilmour, having nothing else to do, and jdelding 
 like the others to the drowsiness of the hour, 
 sought an open shed where his men had spread an 
 Austrian rug over a soft bed of grass. He was, 
 however, too much engrossed with his new scheme 
 to fall easily asleep. He had carefully to consider 
 the pros and cons of his suddenly developed 
 romantic project. The play of expression on his 
 mobile face presented a pretty accurate index to 
 the varied character of his musings. The end of 
 all his cogitations was, however, expressed in his 
 silent exclamation, as he turned over to sleep, ''The 
 idea is capital ! I am sure something can be made 
 of her ! And what a piquant, taking little child 
 of Nature she is, to be sure." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 50 ULV. 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 Towards three in the afternoon the village was 
 again astir. Men lounged ah&ut, gossiping or" 
 dressing the.mselves in fantastic, styles , for the^ 
 evening revelry. Women — rarely allow^ tirqe for 
 the feminine amusements of more civilizecl countries 
 — pounded grain for the evening meal, land bthert 
 wise occujDied themselves with domestic or agri- • 
 cultural duties for the benefit of their lords and 
 masters. 
 
 Gilmour, like everybody else, bestirred himself. 
 Having nothing else to do till evening, he st,rolled 
 up a narrow lane, noticing with no small pleasure 
 various species of ferns, which reminded liim of 
 home and his early boyish rambles , after those 
 graceful plants among his native hills. 
 
 At sunset he returned to the village, to find 
 dinner awaiting him, cooked and served with.? the 
 simplicity to be expected on the sides of Kilimanjaro. 
 Ere he had finished the stars began to peep forth
 
 ULU. 51 
 
 in the fast-gathering darkness ; and 'with night 
 came a cool fresh hreeze to complete the delicious 
 change. 
 
 Preparations for the ngomma, or dance, now 
 proceeded actively. Drums of varied size and 
 note were hauled out of the huts. Calabashes 
 containing small stones to act as rattles were 
 placed ready to hand. The musicians raised bag- 
 pipe-like squeaks as they essayed the native pipes 
 called zomiri. Women, all animation and chatter, 
 heaped 'together wood for the bonfires ; while the 
 Wen preserved their dignity by sitting in listless, 
 lazy groups, occasionally swearitg at or directing 
 their wives. 
 
 The stolidity and indifference proper to warriors, 
 however, disappeared magically^ as a long file of 
 women marched out of Seri's compound bearing 
 huge pots of pombe (beer) on their heads. In 
 QJcler duly to celebrate Ulu's approaching marriage 
 to the mzungu, the chief had trebled the amount 
 of drink which usually stimulated the flagging 
 energies of tired dancers. 
 
 The arrival of Seri was the signal to start the 
 night's festivities. A frightful yell of welcome burst 
 . from every throat, and then with whoop and trilling 
 screata \\iQ revellers scrambled with wild antics 
 into tLe open space near Gilmour's shed. Simul- 
 taneously a dozen bony fists fell upon the resonant 
 
 UNSmOflUlSOIS
 
 52 ULU. 
 
 hides of as many drams, till they answered in 
 thunderous *' hoom ! boom ! " or sharper tom-toms. 
 The musicians who wielded the calabashes waved 
 them wildly overhead, or shook them like bells, till 
 they rattled and crashed out a deafening contri- 
 bution to the awful medley. Above all, with ear- 
 piercing effect, rose the shrill notes of the zomiri. 
 At the same moment fire was applied to the bon- 
 fires, and these soon flared up, only to make the 
 outer darkness deeper and blacker, the inner circle 
 more demoniacal. 
 
 The dance itself is beyond description. To 
 Gilmour it seemed only a series of uncouth leaps 
 and jumps, varied by ludicrous wrigglings of the 
 body and accompanied by ape-like grimaces. 
 
 To the natives themselves, however, it had all a 
 method and a meaning. Applause greeted some 
 performers and ridicule others, and there was no 
 mistaking the fact that every one enjoyed himself 
 to the utmost. 
 
 Though deafened by the terrific noise, Gilmour 
 was conscious of a certain uncanny admiration in 
 viewing the wild scene. The savages, almost naked 
 or dressed in hideous extravagance, jumping about 
 like madmen ; the yells, shouts, and chanted 
 recitatives ; the additional uproar from drum, 
 calabash, and zomiri; the lurid lights and the 
 dense circle of darkness— excited Gilmour's imagi-
 
 ULU. 53 
 
 nation, as a scene of similar weirdness had once 
 affected Tarn O'Shanter. It had all the air 
 of being a glimpse of another and not a better 
 world. 
 
 As the evening wore on a solitary light began 
 to irradiate the eastern horizon, till, gradually 
 brightening, the moon in mild effulgence rose 
 above the horizon, just over the rugged peaks of 
 Teitav--,. A- hundred eldrich screeches, mingled with 
 fuller and more stentorian shouts, greeted its 
 welcome light. The zomiri-player threatened to 
 burst his already widely distended cheeks; the 
 drummers, determined not to be beat in noise- 
 making, knocked the skin off their knuckles as they 
 whacked their drums with renewed force. Faster 
 and faster grew the dancing, more madly did the 
 dancers surge about as if intoxicated, as indeed 
 many were rapidly becoming under the influence 
 of Seri's lavishly distributed pombe. 
 
 In the height of this mad scene Gilmour 
 happened to look up towards the mountain. With 
 awed fascination he noted the contrast between the 
 peaceful beauty of Kibo and the fiendish revels 
 around him. He had often seen the snow-capped 
 dome at night, but on this occasion it shone under 
 the soft moonbeams with a divine majesty and 
 peace. For the moment, Kibo to Gilmour was a 
 glimpse of the serenity and beauty of Paradise ;
 
 54 ULU. 
 
 and he — he seemed to be viewing it from the 
 depths of hell. 
 
 While the white man thus alternately wondered 
 at the one scene and with his whole soul admired 
 the other, his attention was graduall}^ attracted to 
 a girl among the dancers who appeared familiar to 
 him. Almost naked and drenched with perspira- 
 tion, this damsel was throwing herself with special 
 fervour into the savage revelry. No one jumped 
 about with more abandon, nor pij)ed out in shriller 
 tones the trilling screams. Men danced about her 
 in rings, or with uncouth gestures and movements 
 pranced up to the tune of the oft reiterated mono- 
 syllables, " Yo ho ! yi oh ho ! " to which, with 
 distorted face, she responded with her own wild 
 bird's trill, as she stamped her feet and wriggled 
 around till the iron bells on her legs and arms 
 tinkled out noisily. 
 
 With an uneasy interest Gilmour followed the 
 wild movements of the M-Chaga maiden. He was 
 about to inquire of Seri who she was, when the 
 whirling crowd opened up, and under the red glare 
 of a neighbouring bonfire, the girl stood revealed 
 to him as Ulu. 
 
 '' Oh, this is too bad ! " exclaimed Gilmour, as 
 he jumped to his feet with the impulse to drag his 
 pupil out of the savage circle. 
 
 With an effort he restrained himself, however.
 
 ULU. 55 
 
 as he thought that this would be the last dance of 
 the kmd she would have. '' After all," he asked 
 himself, *' why shouldn't she? What else can he 
 expected of such as she ? " 
 
 Still Gilmour felt greatly annoyed at what he 
 saw. Ulu had never before appeared such a 
 savage — animal even, and a vague sense of the 
 huge gulf which separated him from her crossed 
 his mixid.- Here befor.e him stood the rude reality ; 
 and how different that appeared from the ideal 
 child of Nature he had hitherto pictured in his 
 imagination ! 
 
 While Gilmour thus watched and meditated, 
 matters became so decidedly worse around Ulu that 
 he could stand it no longer. Once more he jumped 
 to his feet. He turned to ask Seri to intervene. 
 
 *' Seri, will you " he commenced, but stopped 
 
 short on observing his host rigid in an attitude of 
 concentrated attention. '' What is it ? " he cried 
 instead. 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 Gilmour knew full well the meaning of such 
 signs, and was himself at once all ears. The 
 suspense did not last long. During a slight lull in 
 the din of the ngomma, a faint cry came wafted 
 to his ear with a something in its tone which sent 
 a shiver through him. At the same moment Seri 
 sprang from his sitting posture, and then, like a
 
 56 ULU. 
 
 herald of war and death, he yelled out his fearful 
 cry to arms. As the first shrill notes rose sharp 
 and clear through the infernal festive clamour, the 
 dancers stood rigid, half-uttered shouts cut short 
 on their lips, as if each had received a blow on 
 the chest which had knocked the wind out of him. 
 A moment of ghastly silence succeeded ; not a 
 soul moved. Even as they listened, the terror- 
 laden words, "El Masai! El Masai! " came with 
 full significance to their ears, sending a convulsive 
 start through the spell-bound crowd. In quick 
 succession several piercing yells broke from the 
 outer darkness. There was no mistaking the 
 character of these sounds. Pain and death rang 
 in their every accent. 
 
 '* Spears ! spears ! " shouted Seri, the first to 
 regain his senses. 
 
 Then the charm broke which held the paralyzed 
 dancers. '' Spears ! spears ! " they echoed, as they 
 rushed off to their huts to arm for the fray. 
 
 Quick, eager shouts and exclamations were now 
 heard on all sides, some in terror, others in bold 
 defiance. The women, trembling with terror, 
 seized their children and fled into the bush. In 
 a twinkling the place was empty, with the excep- 
 tion of the mzungu and his men. 
 
 Even Gilmour was not absolutely free from the 
 pani<i which reigned around. The alarm was so
 
 ULU. 57 
 
 sudden, so unexpected, and the danger so indefinite. 
 From what quarter was lie to expect it ? What 
 had they better do ? A shout came from Uledi — 
 
 " Come, Bwana ! Come away from the fires ! " 
 
 As fast as they could the little band sought the 
 shelter of the forest, where they lay trying to pierce 
 the dense gloom on the look-out for possible Masai 
 warriors, and ready with their rifles to give a good 
 account of themselves. Seri came rushing towards 
 them. 
 
 " Mzungu ! mzungu ! fire your guns ! Oh, 
 Bwana, fire your gun ! " he cried. 
 
 " Good gracious ! where ? What shall I shoot ? " 
 eagerly inquired Gilmour, stexDping out of his 
 hiding-place. 
 
 " Shoot, Bwana ! Quick! Shoot ! shoot ! Never 
 mind where," implored the chief. 
 
 '' What on earth is the use of that ? " exclaimed 
 Gilmour; but his words were drowned in the 
 discharge of the rifles of his men, who knew better 
 the value of sound in savage warfare. 
 
 Seri, inspirited by this announcement to his 
 enemies that he and his people had guns in their 
 possession, now mustered courage to raise the war- 
 cry. The note of defiance, feebly re-echoed by the 
 Wa-Chaga at the cattle kraal below, was scarcely 
 sounded when a Masai warrior appeared, stand- 
 ing on a grassy knoll, on which the moon shone
 
 58 ULU. 
 
 brilliantly. Looking upwards to where the fires 
 could still be seen burning, he whooped out an 
 insulting cry, as he shook his great spear in the 
 air, and then struck his shield till it resounded like 
 a drum. 
 
 Seri and his men showed no eagerness to accept 
 the challenge, however, and the warrior continued 
 to prance defiantly, bidding them come down to 
 him, if they were not women. He looked por- 
 tentously picturesque under the moonbeams, wdth 
 his nodding ostrich plumes, and glittering spear 
 which seemed to emit electric flashes as he twisted 
 it in his hand. In the midst of his insulting cries 
 and the impotent, cur-like display of the Wa-Chaga 
 above, a rifle roared out an unexpected replj^, and 
 the Masai ended his shouts in a different key. For 
 the last time his spear quivered in the air, and with 
 a groan he fell back dead. 
 
 A roar of delight burst from Seri's warriors. 
 
 ''Who did that ? " demanded Gilmour sharply. 
 
 "Bwana, it was I," proudly replied Uledi, 
 ''See!" he added triumphantly, "my gun still 
 smokes." 
 
 A sharp reprimand rose to Gilmour's lips, but 
 was interrupted by the appearance of one of Seri's 
 men, who rushed up with the news that the Masai 
 had retired on finding themselves prematurely dis- 
 covered in their attempt to capture the cattle,
 
 ULU. 50 
 
 though they had killed one of the guards m the 
 first unexpected onset. 
 
 This good news at once reanimated the Wa- 
 Chaga, and, boiling with courage and hatred, they 
 rushed helter-skelter down the hill, making the 
 whole mountain-side re-echo with their bloodthirsty 
 cries, suggesting to Gilmour, who, of course, did 
 not follow, them, a i3ack of hyaenas on the trail 
 of a wounded animal. 
 
 As our hero stood and watched, he saw the men 
 of Kindi emerge from the wood and congregate on 
 the knoll, where they literally danced upon the 
 body of the dead warrior, hacking it with their 
 knives and swords till it became a shapeless mass. 
 Their savage fm-y sated, they turned their attention 
 to the killed cattle-keeper. Taking him up in 
 their arms, they bore him homeward, filling the 
 sad night air with their barbarous dirge. Half-wa}' 
 up, the procession was met by the women, who 
 mingled their wails and shrieks with the more sub- 
 dued cries of the men. Thus accompanied, the 
 corpse was brought into the village and laid in 
 a hut, to be watched and mourned over by the 
 women till the morning. 
 
 As for the men, they were soon as merry and 
 light-hearted as if no danger had ever come near 
 them. They were unanimous in expressing their 
 regret at not having got an opportunity to display
 
 60 ULU. 
 
 their leonine courage and hyaena-like ferocit3\ 
 What wonders of bloodshed they would have done ! 
 The dance, however, was not resumed, much to 
 Gilmour's relief, who was soon sound asleep, 
 wra]3ped cosily in his Austrian blanket, with the 
 cool mountain breeze playing on his healthy 
 bronzed cheeks. The soothing sough of the 
 prattling stream in the neighbouring glen, the 
 painful wails of the watchers, the mournful hooting 
 of owls, and the sighing of breeze-swayed trees — 
 all fell upon his ear, and quickened his unsleeping 
 fancy to dreams of pleasing melancholy.
 
 ULU. 61 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 The morning after the ngomma broke clear and 
 bright. The flood of light which fell upon Gilmour 
 in the open shed woke him speedily from the sound 
 sleep which he had enjoyed during the night. 
 Finding the temperature below 45° F. and a cold 
 breeze blowing, he drew his rug more snugly round 
 him, and lay lazily watching one of his men, who 
 shivered piteously over a fire, awaiting the boiling 
 of some water. 
 
 At last, however, the sun rose in tropic gorgeous - 
 ness, and falling on the eyes of Gilmour, compelled 
 him to turn out. There being no soap or other 
 civilized appliances for a wash and brush up, 
 Gilmour contented himself with sauntering to the 
 nearest rivulet and dipping his head into the 
 water, thereafter wringing out his hair with his 
 hands, and leaving the sun to do the rest. Thus 
 freshened, though unkempt, he got back to the 
 shed to find some hot tea and a couple of eggs to
 
 62 ULU. 
 
 start him off for the day and put him in due 
 harmony with his surroundings. 
 
 By the time these necessary matters were dis- 
 posed of, the sun had risen some distance, and 
 permeated the atmosphere with its warmth. 
 
 One by one the Wa-Chaga pushed their heads out 
 of their huts, and gathered in well-WTapped groups 
 round the fires, while the women and slaves moved 
 about on their household duties, or wended with 
 hoe and basket to the plantations. 
 
 It was now time for Gilmour to set out for 
 Pepo-ni. Calling Uledi, he ordered him to announce 
 his approaching departure to Seri, and to bring 
 Ulu. 
 
 While the M-Swahili was gone on his errand, 
 Gilmour buckled on his gaiters and belt. 
 
 A few minutes later Uledi returned. 
 
 " Bwan' mkubwa, Seri will be here immediately," 
 he said. 
 
 "And Ulu?" 
 
 " She has fled," was the man's reply, a curious 
 grin illuminating his bull-dog face. 
 
 "Fled! Where on earth has she fled to?" 
 asked Gilmour, thinking he must have frightened 
 the little girl the night previous. 
 
 *' Bwana, I know not ; but, Inshallah, she will be 
 found; " and Uledi's grin threatened to get beyond 
 his control.
 
 ULU. 63 
 
 " What on earth are 3'ou grinning at, jou fool ? " 
 cried his master, wrathfuUy, becoming a"ware of 
 Uledi's expression of amusement. " And what do 
 you mean by 3^our please God (Inshallah) ? " 
 
 ''Perhaps," replied Uledi, more gravely, ''you 
 had better see her father." 
 
 " Very well. Come with me ; " and, wondering 
 what was the meaning of all this mystification, 
 .Grilmour hurried off to Seri's quarters. 
 
 Uledi followed, and, being behind his master's 
 back, was able to grin to his heart's content. 
 
 Gilmour, in bursting unannounced into Seri's 
 presence, quite upset that important personage's 
 philosophy, as he eagerly asked — 
 
 "What has become of Ulu? Why has she fled?" 
 
 Seri seemed very much surprised at these ques- 
 tions, and looked inquiringly fi'om Gilmour to 
 Uledi. 
 
 "Allah!" he exclaimed at length, "are you 
 not going to marry Ulu ? " 
 
 " That depends on circumstances. At present, 
 as you know, she only goes with me to Pepo-ni." 
 
 "I don't understand the difference," said Seri. 
 " Ulu believes she is to be your wife." 
 
 " What nonsense ! " cried Gilmour, impatiently. 
 " Pray what has that to do with her flight ? " 
 
 " Why, it is what any girl in the same position 
 would do."
 
 64 ULU. 
 
 " I don't understand," cried Gilmour, more and 
 more mystified. ''Is she frightened? Does she 
 not want to go with me ? Does " 
 
 ''No," interrupted Seri, equally bewildered; 
 "she is not frightened, and she does want to go 
 with you." 
 
 " Well, then, what the deuce is the meaning of 
 it all ? " exclaimed Gilmour to himself in Enghsh, 
 with difficulty keeping his temper, as he mopped 
 his face and ran his fingers frantically through his 
 hair, seeking for some happy inspiration. 
 
 How much longer the misunderstanding would 
 have lasted it would be difficult to say, but at this 
 point Uledi, who seemed to be the only man who 
 clearly understood the situation, fairly forgot himself 
 and laughed outright. Then, suddenly recollecting 
 the presence in which he stood, he turned and made 
 for the door. Before he got outside, Gilmour, now 
 thoroughly roused, precipitated himself upon the 
 culprit, and, seizing him by the nape of the neck, 
 shook him angrily as he ordered him forthwith to 
 explain the meaning of all this unseemly mirth. 
 
 '*Bwana! Bwana ! " howled Uledi, "you kill 
 me ! Let me go ! Oh, I shall die ! I shall die ! 
 Oh! oh!" 
 
 " Speak, then, and to the point." 
 
 "Why, Bwana, don't you understand? It is 
 the M-Chaga custom."
 
 ULU. 65 
 
 *' What is the M-Chaga custom ? " queried Gil- 
 mour, impatiently. 
 
 *' When a girl is going to be married she runs 
 away and hides with a friend." 
 
 ''Oh, now I begin to understand. The girl, I 
 suppose, expects the man to hunt for her ? " 
 
 " Yes, that is why Ulu has fled ; " and once 
 more Uledi's face broke into a broad grin. 
 
 The infection spread, and, forgetful of his wrath, 
 Gilmour burst into a hearty fit of laughter as he 
 pictured himself bringing home Ulu pick-a-back, 
 surrounded by a howling crowd of boys and women. 
 He knew that this relic of the old custom of wife 
 capture still existed among the neighbouring and 
 allied Wa-Teita, but was not till then aware that 
 it also survived among the Wa-Chaga. 
 
 Recovering his gravity, he explained to the 
 astonished and somewhat scandalized chief how 
 alien that custom was to European ideas, and 
 how therefore that part of the ceremony must be 
 dispensed with. 
 
 The conservative instincts of the worthy barbarian 
 were greatly shocked; but, as he was determined 
 to have Gilmour for a son-in-law at any price, he 
 repressed all evidence of his outraged feelings, and 
 promised to find Ulu and explain matters to her. 
 
 An hour later Uledi appeared with the little 
 runaway. On entering the presence of her future 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 ULU. 
 
 lord and master, she looked woefully abashed and 
 downcast. Traces of recent tears still lingered on 
 her chubby, well-oiled cheeks, and bedimmed the 
 brilliancy of her eyes. 
 
 The sight of her distress quite touched Gilmour's 
 susceptible heart, especially as he supposed himself 
 to be the cause of it. His face softened and his 
 voice became quite low and gentle as he patted 
 the little maiden under the chin and began trying 
 to comfort her. 
 
 ''Have you grown afraid of the white, man, 
 mtoto ? " he asked. 
 
 "■ No, Bwan' mkubwa," Ulu stammered out. 
 
 " Then what's wrong with you, little one ? Don't 
 you want to go with me ? " 
 
 '' Oh yes, I want to go with you," she sobbed, as 
 she drew her well-rounded arm across her eyes to 
 wipe away the welling tears. 
 
 " Do you not like to leave your father and 
 mother, then ? " 
 
 '' Oh," replied she, arresting her sobs, '' they beat 
 me and make me work in the shambas (fields)." 
 
 " Then tell me what troubles you so much." 
 
 For a moment the little girl stood struggling to 
 master her grief, while with her great toe she 
 traced figures in the sand of the floor. 
 
 "Because — because you won't marry me after 
 the manner of our people," she said hesitatingly.
 
 ULU. 67 
 
 "But you know your ways are different from 
 ours," replied Gilmour, sorry for the child, yet 
 curious to know her whole mind. 
 
 " But you are now living among the Wa-Chaga. 
 Why won't you let me hide '? Why do you refuse 
 to seek for me and carry me on your back to 
 Pepo-ni?" 
 
 *' Because the wazungu don't do these things," 
 replied Gilmour. 
 
 " And will not your men fire their guns and 
 shout when I go down to Pepo-ni ? " 
 
 " Not now ; perhaps some other time, when we 
 get married like the white people." 
 
 Again Ulu broke down as her last hope of display 
 disappeared. "But all the girls of Kindi will 
 laugh at me," she contrived to say timidly. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because you are marrying me without firing of 
 guns, drummings, dances, and plenty of pombe. 
 Even slaves have ngommas when they are married." 
 And Ulu wept bitterly as she pictured the depths 
 to which she had fallen. 
 
 " Oh, never mind what the women of Kindi say. 
 Just wait till you see the grand clothes and beautiful 
 beads and bracelets I shall give you. You'll see 
 then whether they'll laugh at you or not," said 
 Gilmour, adding a number of other things to the 
 same effect, with the object of soothing the poor
 
 68 VLU. 
 
 child, for he realized that it was impossible for her 
 to understand his ideas or feelings on the subject 
 of marriage, or the difference which, in his eyes, 
 distinguished a pupil from a wife. 
 
 Gilmour's pictures of riches and idleness soon 
 had the desired effect, and smiles speedily replaced 
 tears as Ulu saw herself arrayed in all the magnifi- 
 cence the mzungu described. The latter now sent 
 her off to bid farewell to her father and prepare 
 to leave for Pepo-ni. 
 
 At length, everything being pronounced ready, 
 Gilmour picked up his rifle and started down the 
 hill towards Seri's house. As he approached, he 
 remarked an agitated group of people gathered 
 around some person or persons unknown, and 
 raising their voices in animated tones. 
 
 " "What ! No flight ! No capture ! Whoever 
 heard of a marriage like this ? " cried one old 
 woman in a shrill key. 
 
 " And our chief's daughter too ! " chimed in a 
 second. 
 
 " She leaves her father's house like a slave," 
 added a third. 
 
 Gilmour's approach was the signal for immediate 
 silence, and next moment the crowd fell back, ex- 
 hibiting Ulu, with disconsolate expression, stagger- 
 ing under an enormous pile of calabashes, wooden 
 utensils, and other M-Chaga household furniture.
 
 ULU. 69 
 
 " Ob, hang it all ! What's up now ? " exclaimed 
 Gilmour in English, a look of excessive annoyance 
 crossing his face. " Am I again to be made a 
 laughing-stock to my men ? " 
 
 The Zanzibaris seemed, indeed, to enjoy the joke 
 immensely, for having mostly lived in Em'opean 
 families in Zanzibar, they had learned something 
 of the position of European wives. 
 
 The s^Dectacle presented by their future mistress, 
 loaded as above described, was too much for them, 
 and they dodged behind trees, turned their backs, 
 or stuffed their caps into their capacious mouths 
 to prevent unseemly manifestations of their mirth 
 before the Bwana, who, though good-natured, coald 
 show his teeth to some purpose if roused. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this ? " sharply inquired 
 the sorely tried Gilmour. 
 
 " Why, Bwana, that is the furniture," answered 
 Uledi, with difficulty mastering his desire to laugh. 
 
 " Take care now, Uledi. Don't anger me again. 
 Tell me at once what Ulu is going to do with these 
 things ? " cried Gilmour, with rising wrath. 
 
 '' These are for the new house she expects to go 
 to at Pepo-ni. They are her marriage presents." 
 
 "Now, this is more than I can bear!" cried 
 Gilmour, beside himself with annoyance. " Order 
 her to put them down at once, and leave the 
 dirty rubbish behind. No, stop ! That will only
 
 70 ULU. 
 
 frighten the poor thing. — Oh, hang it all," he 
 again exclaimed in English, ^' I wish I had never 
 started this absurd freak of mine ! Developing 
 souls out of M-Chaga materials is going to be 
 more ridiculous than dignified. Evidently amusing 
 enough for my men. I can't stop now, though. 
 Here, you Songoro," he called; "come here, you 
 rascal. I'll teach you how to laugh. Now, take 
 these calabashes. Come, do it at once. You shall 
 carry them all the way to Pepo-ni. Ulu, give your 
 load to Songoro." 
 
 With a look of utter bewilderment Ulu relin- 
 quished her load to the M-Swahili. She, a woman, 
 to have her burden carried by a man, and that 
 man a handsomely dressed fellow like Songoro, who, 
 in parenthesis it may be remarked, was clothed in 
 a ragged, cast-off flannel shirt of his master's ! Here 
 indeed was an upsetting of all her ideas of woman's 
 place and function in the world. She could not 
 realize for the moment the complete significance of 
 Gilmour's action. In a vague, stunned sort of 
 way, however, she felt that after all there was 
 indeed something in being a white man's wife, and 
 timidly, like one not yet quite sure where she stood, 
 she looked round at the awestruck women with a 
 little air of triumph, as if she would say, " There ! 
 what do you think of that ? It will be a long time 
 before any of you get a man to carry your load."
 
 ULU. 71 
 
 " Now, Ulu," said Gilmour, '' come along. Seri, 
 kwaheri (good-bye)." 
 
 As the party turned and moved down the hill 
 the crowd of women regained their voices, and 
 raised a chorus of commiserating cries over the 
 shabby, prosaic departure of their chief's daughter. 
 They pretended to be greatly scandalized at the 
 transference of the girl's load to Songoro, and in a 
 score of characteristic ways canvassed the question. 
 What was the world coming to now, when such 
 things were possible ? There must be something 
 very dreadful underneath it all, they declared, with 
 many knowing shakes of the head. 
 
 Meanwhile Gilmour, oblivious and indifferent to 
 then- criticism, continued his way homeward. As 
 he sauntered dreamily along, he naturally fell into 
 the soliloquizing strain which his lonely, isolated 
 life had made his normal condition. Indeed, it 
 was no uncommon thing for him to find that he 
 was holding a conversation or an argument with 
 himself, greatly to the amusement of his men, 
 who, walking behind, would signal to each other 
 with nod and wink their master's peculiarity. 
 They thought, in fact, that he really did address 
 some devil or spirit whom he could call up at will. 
 
 On this occasion Gilmour's line of thought 
 naturally turned on the subject of Ulu. The events 
 of the morning had greatly annoyed him, and
 
 72 ULU. 
 
 toned down his enthusiasm for his romantic project. 
 He felt that his original repulsion to the idea of 
 marrying a savage was beginning to reassert itself 
 with renewed force when face to face with some of 
 the realities of the situation. He was not, however, 
 going to let himself be turned aside from the 
 attempt to civilize Ulu without good reason. As 
 for the merriment of his men, well, he thought, he 
 would easily put an end to that. 
 
 Still Gilmour felt it necessary to argue the matter 
 over again. He declared to himself with wholly 
 unnecessary vehemence that he certainly would 
 make something of the maiden, however much of 
 a savage she was. He gravely proceeded to ask 
 himself if, after all, the savage life was not the 
 natural one, a condition in which man w^as free 
 and untrammelled by conventionalities, conform- 
 ing, in fact, to nature onl}- . To be natural and to 
 be free, was that not to have attained the ideal ? 
 Gilmour inquired triumphantly, with the air of a 
 man who had made an interesting discovery. 
 
 In contrast with that he placed the civilized life. 
 He pictured it to himself as a great complex 
 machine, of which each individual was only a petty 
 factor under conditions which made it absolutely 
 necessary that he should move in harmony or be 
 ruthlessly smashed. 
 
 " What is civilization," he mentally queried,
 
 VLU. 73 
 
 " but a mere mass of conventionalities, with 
 fashions in virtues and vices assumed and dis- 
 carded Kke so many Parisian modes in dress ? 
 What little good there is in it is scotched, if not 
 killed, by society and society's ways. Now, if I 
 can graft what there is of good in the thoughts and 
 feelings of Europeans upon a fresh, unsophisticated 
 soul like Ulu's, won't she just be perfect ? Still, 
 to marry a negress ! Whew ! it is a deuce of a 
 step. But, after all, is my repulsion a reflection 
 of the true and the right? Is it not merely an 
 artificial feeling born of my education and environ- 
 ment, a reflection, in fact, of my European pre- 
 judices ? Now let me see where I have arrived 
 at. I shall get muddled up if I go much deeper. 
 Oh yes, I think I have it now. The savage — 
 that is to say, the natural life — is the ideal one ; 
 ergo, a savage, in other words a natural, bride is 
 ditto. That puts the whole matter in a nutshell. 
 Not such bad logic, either, when I think of it. 
 Well, I have done with your civilized girls. No 
 more animated artificialities for me. How I pity 
 the poor things with all the fresh young life 
 crushed out of them in obedience to the demands 
 of Mrs. Grundy ! Social frauds, indeed ! Faugh ! 
 
 When I think of it all I " 
 
 But what Gilmour really did think of it all must 
 for ever remain unknown, for at this point he was
 
 74 ULU. 
 
 awakened from his reverie by a clear, English 
 " Good morning," uttered in Iront of him in rich 
 feminine tones. With a start of surprise he looked 
 up, to encounter the glance of a pair of laughing 
 brown eyes, which met his from over the ears of 
 a white Muscat donkey, and sparkled with mis- 
 chievous delight at the embarrassment into which 
 their owner's unlooked-for appearance had thrown 
 him. For a moment Gilmour stood in utter 
 wonderment, seemingly unable to believe that here, 
 in the heart of Africa, he was face to face with an 
 Englishwoman, young and winsome, too, with rosy 
 cheeks and laughing lips that looked almost out of 
 keeping with her broad, thoughtful brow and firm 
 outline of cheek and chin. In her soft white dress 
 and broad Panama hat, she formed a very charming 
 picture as she sat reining in her gentle steed right 
 in the middle of the foliaged pathway, and repeated 
 once more her cheerful *' Good morning." 
 
 Suddenly remembering himself, Gilmour, with 
 a quick, impulsive motion, carried his hand to his 
 felt hat, which — the first time for nearly a year — 
 he lifted, as he replied confusedly — 
 
 *' Yambo — that is, I mean, good morning." 
 *' Mr. Gilmour, I presume ? " said the lady, bow- 
 ing with mock ceremony as she recalled a well- 
 known African episode, and at the same time 
 frankly holding out her hand.
 
 ULU. 75 
 
 Gilmour, feeling still somewhat upset and un- 
 accountably awkward, took the proffered hand, but 
 without any responsive heartiness and warmth. 
 Utterly ignoring the humorous allusion in her last 
 remark, he merely replied — 
 
 ''You have named me correctl}^ For yourself, 
 I can only imagine that you are Miss Kennedy 
 from Mandara's." 
 
 " Yes, you are quite right," said .the young lady, 
 a shade of surprise and disappointment passing 
 across her expressive face as she realized how 
 coldly she had been met, considering the place and 
 circumstances. " You could scarcely be otherwise, 
 for I am the only Englishwoman on the mountain, 
 you know." 
 
 Here an awkward pause ensued, during which 
 neither seemed to know what to do next. Gilmour 
 made no attempt to carry on the conversation, and 
 Miss Kennedy, repelled by the chill formality of 
 his reply to her first friendly greeting, felt strangely 
 disinclined to put any of the hundred eager ques- 
 tions that had at first risen to her lips. She was 
 just in the act of wishing herself anywhere but on 
 Kilimanjaro, when her embarrassment was brought 
 to an end by fresh arrivals from below. 
 
 " Oh, here is my father," she exclaimed with an 
 air of relief, as a tall, somewhat bony and angular 
 individual came into view, his dress a curious com-
 
 76 ULU. 
 
 pound of the clergyman's and the backwoodsman's. 
 "Papa," she continued, turning to the new arrival, 
 *'this is Mr. Gilmour, of whom we have heard so 
 much." 
 
 " Delighted to have the pleasure of meeting you, 
 sir," said Mr. Kennedy, heartily, shaking hands 
 with Gilmour, as if he had met with a dear and 
 long absent friend. '' We have long known you 
 by name, and long wished to know you in 
 person." 
 
 " You are very good," answered Gilmour hesi- 
 tatingly, as if he could not all at once adapt his 
 thoughts and language to the unwonted situation. 
 " I am very much obliged to you." 
 
 Somewhat put out at this cool reception of his 
 proffered friendship, Mr. Kennedy stood for a 
 moment silent ; then he recommenced — 
 
 "Yours is surely a strange sort of life, Mr. 
 Gilmour, especially for a young man to lead. 
 Don't you feel lonely with none but Zanzibaris 
 about you? Don't you miss the advantages of 
 Christian fellowship and society ? " 
 
 " I can't say that I do. The life suits me very 
 well. You know the French saying, ' One is never 
 less alone than when alone ; ' it seems to fit my 
 case exactly." 
 
 " ' My mind to me a kingdom is,' " quoted Miss 
 Kennedy sympathetically, and added, ''I think I
 
 ULU. 77 
 
 can quite enter into your feelings on that point, 
 Mr. Gilmour." 
 
 ''Well, I can't, Kate," said her father. ''The 
 Bible says ' it is not good for man to be alone,' and 
 I take that to be true in the general as well as in 
 the special sense. Men should ' do and not dream,' 
 and the true sphere for doing is among one's 
 fellows. But I am not going to read you a lecture 
 here," he continued, interrupting himself and 
 smiling pleasantly. " Let me only say, Mr. Gil- 
 mour, that if ever you do feel lonely, or if we can be 
 of any use to you, please have no hesitation in coming 
 to us. You will always be heartily welcome." 
 
 "Eeally, Mr. Kennedy, you are very kind. I 
 certainly shan't forget your invitation. At present 
 I must be going, however. By the way, are you 
 aware that Masai scouts have been seen ? You will 
 require to be very careful in your movements for 
 some time to come." 
 
 " What ! those bloodthirsty savages on the move 
 again ? " exclaimed the startled gentleman. " Your 
 news is indeed unj)leasant. Ah, well, our lives are 
 in the hands of Providence. Kate, you know how 
 much this may mean ? " 
 
 "Oh yes, papa. But there's no immediate 
 danger, is there, Mr. Gilmour ? " 
 
 "Oh no; you have nothing to fear at present, 
 but I should advise you to keep away from the
 
 78 ULU. 
 
 lower parts of the mountain for the remainder of 
 the dry season. I really must he off, though ; the 
 sun is getting well up. Good-hye, Miss Kennedy ; 
 good-bye, sir." And lifting his hat, this time with 
 more grace and ease, Gilmour turned and con- 
 tinued his way to Pepo-ni ; while Miss Kenned}^ 
 gathering up the reins of her donkey and tapping 
 its side lightly with her heel, moved up the hill in 
 the direction of Seri's, followed by her father and 
 his negro servants.
 
 VLU. 71) 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 **I can't understand it," said Kate, abstractedly, as 
 she slowly withdrew her gaze from the tip of her 
 donkey's right ear, which organ had apparently 
 absorbed her attention for nearly five minutes. 
 
 *' What can't you understand? " said Mr. Ken- 
 nedy, inquiringly. '' The donkey's ear ? " 
 
 " Now, papa, you are laughing at me," said 
 Kate, smiling pleasantly herself, however, at her 
 father's quiet way of poking fun at her. '* I was 
 not even thinking of poor Tanga, but of Mr. 
 Gilmour." 
 
 " Did it strike you there was some resemblance ? " 
 
 '' Papa, you are really too bad ! Of course not. 
 I was only thinking that he seemed rather a 
 peculiar individual." 
 
 ^'Yes?" 
 
 " Quite different from what I had expected." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "Wouldn't you have thought he would have
 
 80 ULU. 
 
 shown a little more enthusiasm at meeting a 
 fellow-countryman on Kilimanjaro ? " 
 
 '' Especially when the fellow-countryman was 
 accompanied by a fellow-countrywoman, eh ? " 
 
 ''Oh, papa, do be quiet and talk sensibly! 
 Don't you think he might at least have shaken 
 hands with me as if he meant it, instead of just 
 touching the tips of my fingers ? " 
 
 *' Perhaps he didn't mean it. Perhaps he would 
 rather have been left alone, and was too honest 
 not to show it." 
 
 '' But, papa, w^hites are not so common in 
 Chaga. I know I should welcome any represen- 
 tative of the race — even a sweep, if he had washed 
 his face. Why, he didn't even ask us to go and 
 see him ! " added Miss Kennedy, returning to her 
 grievance against Gilmour. 
 
 " Probably because he doesn't want us." 
 
 '' But why shouldn't he want us ? He doesn't 
 set up for a hermit, does he ? He doesn't look 
 much like the orthodox hermit, at any rate. He 
 is a great deal too healthy-looking, to begin with." 
 
 " Perhaps he is a new species, ' modified to suit 
 the environment,' you know, as you are so fond of 
 saying." 
 
 " Then, his behaviour was so contradictory to 
 all the reports of him," Kate continued. '' We 
 have heard the most wonderful accounts of his
 
 ULU. 81 
 
 goodness and kindness ; and, when I come to 
 think of it, he had a nice, kind sort of face." 
 Here Kate stopped short, and tried to recall it line 
 by line. '' No, I can't make him out," she went 
 on, not troubling to finish her last sentence. '^ The 
 man is a mystery. ' 
 
 " Of which you seem bent on the solution, Kate," 
 said Mr. Kennedy. " He seems to have excited a 
 great deal of interest in you." 
 
 " Well, yes ; he was so indifferent. I am afraid 
 Edinburgh men have spoiled me. They have 
 made me expect too much attention. I must 
 remember I am in Africa ; the manners and 
 customs are slightly different." 
 
 The conversation now ceased, as the nature of 
 the pathway necessitated the falling back of Mr. 
 Kennedy to the rear. For a time they moved on 
 in silence, all Miss Kennedy's attention being fully 
 occupied in avoiding branches of trees which over- 
 hung the pathway. Suddenly Kate drew Tanga to 
 a standstill, while she sat in an attitude of rapi; 
 attention. 
 
 " Papa, what was that ? " she cried excitedly, as 
 her father came up to where she stood. 
 
 " What ? " queried Mr. Kennedy, sharply, hurry- 
 ing forward in some alarm. 
 
 '* That strange sound. Listen ! there it is again. 
 Surely some one is being killed," Kate continued, 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 ULU. 
 
 as the weird, mournful cry which had attracted 
 her attention came wafted more clearly on the 
 mountain breeze. 
 
 As they stood listening, the sound gathered 
 volume, coming to their ears with a strange 
 cadence, as it rose into shrill screams, or died 
 away into complete silence. 
 
 "Come, papa, let's see what is wrong," cried 
 Kate, giving the reins a shake, and starting for- 
 ward with the instinctive impulse of a generous 
 nature. 
 
 *'Not so fast, Kate; we must be careful," 
 cautioned her father, at the same time stepping 
 out briskly, however, as if not to be behindhand in 
 helping, should help be required. 
 
 A few yards further the little missionary party 
 emerged from the wood, as they neared the shoulder 
 of a ridge which they were rounding. The noises 
 now became more distinct and more terrible to 
 hear; but amongst them could be distinguished 
 the clamour of drums and other evidences of 
 fiendish gaiety, turning Miss Kennedy's fears into 
 perplexity. Mr. Kennedy gave a sigh of relief. 
 
 " Oh, it's all right ! We needn't hurry," he 
 said. The missionary was better acquainted with 
 Wa-Chaga customs than his daughter, and he now 
 understood there was nothing to fear. 
 
 " But what is it ? " queried Kate.
 
 ULU. 83 
 
 *' Somebody dead, I suppose." 
 
 " Dead ! " repeated Kate. ** And is that the way 
 they show their grief ? " 
 
 *' Exactly. These poor, benighted creatures 
 outwardly express their sorrows or their joys in 
 much the same manner. They dance equally at a 
 wedding or a death. But come, let us hasten 
 forward ; I may have an opportunity of saying a 
 word in season." 
 
 " Oh, there is the village ! " cried Kate, as they 
 reached the end of the ridge. 
 
 '''Is that Seri's, Jonathan?" asked Mr. Kennedy 
 of his servant, who was following behind. 
 
 " Yes, Bwana. Shall we fire our guns ? " 
 
 "By no means. Let us go into the village as 
 quietly as possible." 
 
 The sudden and unannounced appearance of the 
 wazungu in Seri's village produced a temporary 
 cessation of the death ceremonies. The inhabitants 
 had never before seen the white lady of whom they 
 had heard so much, and they crowded round to 
 examine her wonderingly. The sacred duties at- 
 tending the wake were too attractive to be more 
 than momentarily suspended, however, and the 
 mourners speedily left Mr. Kennedy and his daugh- 
 ter to move forward to the shed recently vacated 
 by Mr. Gilmour. Having comfortably installed 
 themselves, the visitors forgot for a moment the
 
 84 ULU. 
 
 object of their visit in watching the strange pro- 
 ceedings of the villagers below. 
 
 A certain number of the women devoted them- 
 selves with the nearer relatives to speeding the 
 departed spirit from its earthly habitation, and 
 expressing their sorrow at his having been pre- 
 matm-ely relegated to the cold shades; while the 
 men, with howl and dance, accompanied by what 
 passed current as instrumental music, exerted 
 themselves assiduously to prevent any devil taking 
 possession of the vacated corpse. 
 
 The entire population seemed to have gone mad 
 with the most passionate grief. Men and women 
 alike, with inflamed and streaming eyes, literally 
 howled in their distraction, as they rushed con- 
 tinually in and out of the hut where lay the body. 
 Some, more excitable, threw themselves down on 
 the ground, grasping the grass in their hands, and 
 almost biting the dust as they rolled about in 
 paroxysms of grief. 
 
 A more strangely wild scene could hardly be 
 conceived, and Kate felt her eyes fill with sym- 
 pathetic tears, as she viewed the passionate display 
 of feeling. 
 
 '* They must have been very fond of him," she 
 said. 
 
 "Not necessarily, my dear," answered Mr. 
 Kennedy, who had long been accustomed to similar
 
 ULU. 85 
 
 sights, and was thoroughly conversant with the 
 native character. " There is no people like the 
 negro for indulging in the luxury of grief." 
 
 "Do you mean that all this passionate sorrow 
 is only affected? " 
 
 " Not quite that, of course. But it is all on the 
 surface." 
 
 '* I can scarcely believe it." 
 
 **It's true, however. At this moment, as you 
 see, they are in the depths of grief and despair ; 
 to-night they will have a grand dance and carouse ; 
 to-morrow hardly a thought will be given to their 
 dead friend and relation. Lasting sorrows never 
 show themselves in that way." 
 
 *'It seems so strange, so impossible." 
 
 " Still it's the case. Ah, Kate, my dear, I wish 
 I could go and speak to them ! "What more fitting 
 season to tell them of Him who came to seek and 
 to save ? I wonder when these poor creatures will 
 be gathered into the fold?" the missionary con- 
 tinued, addressing himself more than his daughter. 
 " How small appears to be the result of twenty 
 years of toil ! I feel often as if I had laboured 
 and suffered in vain." 
 
 *' Oh, don't say that, papa dear ! " cried Kate, 
 deprecatingly. 
 
 ''They delight to dwell in darkness and shun 
 the light," Mr. Kennedy went on, falling into
 
 86 ULU. 
 
 the preaching strain which had become a second 
 nature till the arrival of his daughter on Kiliman- 
 jaro had brought him back to a more easy and 
 natural style of speech. 
 
 '' Don't you think, papa, you try to do too 
 much?" began Kate, hesitatingly. ''Instead of 
 bothering with doctrines too subtle for the compre- 
 hension of even the civilized intellect, would it not 
 be better to keep to the very simplest rudiments 
 of Christianity, and try to teach these degraded 
 heathen something they could really understand ? " 
 
 '* Ah, Kate, Kate ! this comes of being away 
 from a father's care. You alarm me with the 
 dangerous modes of thought you have acquired in 
 Edinburgh. To me there is but one way to preach 
 the gospel to the learned and unlearned alike. It 
 must be taught in its entirety." 
 
 '' I must say I don't see what harm there would 
 be in restricting your teaching," urged Kate. 
 
 " Ah, Kate, you don't know how it grieves me to 
 hear you talk in this light way," cried Mr. Ken- 
 nedy; *' it fills me with the gravest aj)prehension. 
 I greatly fear you have drifted from the old 
 anchorage and boundaries of our faith." 
 
 ''But not, papa, from a love of all that is good 
 and true and noble," added Kate with dignity. 
 
 "Fine talk, but little solid sense. To bear 
 fruit and be acceptable before your Maker, your
 
 ULU. 87 
 
 love of goodness must be associated with faith in 
 Christ." 
 
 At this moment the conversation was interrupted 
 by the removal of the corpse from the hut. As 
 the friends brought it forth, the howls and wails 
 reached a climax. The mourners gathered round 
 in a jostling crowd, and, thus escorted, the dead 
 man was hurried off with speed to his last resting- 
 place. Gradually the clamour toned down as the 
 interval increased, and the village was left in peace 
 and quiet. 
 
 ''Who is dead?" inquired Mr. Kennedy of an 
 M-Chaga who had stopped to gaze at them. 
 
 ''The warrior Shili. The Masai killed him last 
 night." 
 
 "Oh!" cried Kennedy, with a start of alarm. 
 " Were the Masai here ? " 
 
 "Yes. But our warriors drove them off, and 
 killed six. The spirit of Shili will dance upon 
 them to-night. The mzungu of Pepo-ni was here, 
 and with his terrible rifle he slew them like the 
 lightning of Maungu (God)." 
 
 "Oh, how could he?" involuntarily exclaimed 
 Kate. 
 
 " Yes," cried the imaginative M-Chaga, seeing 
 the interest aroused by his news ; " the mzungu 
 delights to slake his thirst in the blood of his 
 enemies. Like the lion, he tears them limb
 
 88 VLU. 
 
 from limb, and leaves their offal to the beasts of 
 prey." 
 
 " Oh, don't mind him," explained Mr. Kennedy in 
 English. '' It is only their way of stating things." 
 
 " But sui-ely he can't have been shooting Masai, 
 except in absolute self-defence ? " 
 
 " Of course not," answered Mr. Kennedy, 
 promptly. ''Will you announce to the sultani 
 (chief)," he continued in Ki-Swahili, '' that the 
 mzungu ki kitabu (the white man with the book) 
 desires to see him?" 
 
 *'Yes, Bwana," replied the native; and he 
 hurried off on his errand. 
 
 In a few minutes he returned to announce Seri's 
 speedy arrival. The " speedy " proved to be, how- 
 ever, only a form of speech, for the chief, to show 
 his importance, kept his visitors waiting some 
 considerable time. 
 
 At length he came strolling in leisurely fashion 
 towards the shed, a number of headmen following 
 behind with solemn and dignified step. As he 
 neared the temporary baraza, Mr. Kennedy rose to 
 greet him, but the chief did not show himself 
 sensible of the other's j)resence. With becoming 
 gravity he entered and seated himself on a con- 
 venient log, while his attendants squatted behind 
 and outside. 
 
 ''Yambo, Seri?" said Mr. Kennedy.
 
 ULU. 89 
 
 For the first time, the chief now deigned to look 
 towards the mzungu. 
 
 "Yambo sa Hey!" And Seri, who had 
 
 commenced his reply in the usual fashion, ended 
 abruptly with a startled exclamation as his gaze 
 fell upon Miss Kennedy. His open-mouthed ex- 
 pression of wonderment and surjDrise at the sight 
 of the first white woman he had ever seen rapidly 
 gave place to one of intense admiration. 
 
 " Are all things well with you ? " continued Mr. 
 Kennedy, beginning to feel uneasy at the character 
 of Seri's stare. 
 
 There was no reply. Seri was too much absorbed 
 in examining Miss Kennedy. 
 
 Most girls would have been alarmed at the 
 savage's persistent gaze. Kate's character, how- 
 ever, gave no scope for premature fears, nor was 
 she so spiritually fragile as to shrivel up before 
 any person's stare. To the chief's admiring looks, 
 she replied with a frank, good-humoured smile and 
 a pleasant " Yambo ? " 
 
 " Yambo sana," this time readily added Seri, 
 beaming responsively. 
 
 " The good people of Ulyiah have sent me to tell 
 
 you about " once more began Mr. Kennedy, 
 
 only to be interrupted by Seri abruptly tui-ning 
 round and addressing the uneasy missionary in 
 Ki-Chaga —
 
 90 ULU. 
 
 " Is this a bibi mzungu (white lady) ? " 
 
 '' Yes ! But, Seri, will you tell me whether " 
 
 *' Is she your wife, your daughter, or your slave ?" 
 
 '' Oh, she is my daughter ! " 
 
 '' Good ! What is her price ? " 
 
 '' Her price ! " 
 
 *' Yes. What's her value in bullocks ? " 
 
 " But I — I am not going to sell her ! " 
 
 *' Oh, I had forgotten — you white people don't 
 take bullocks. But of course you will take ivory ? 
 You will do anything for ivory." 
 
 ^' Certainly not sell my daughter ! " 
 
 *'Ah! you are a cunning bargainer, I see. You 
 have not the open hand of some white men. Now, 
 don't be too hard on me ! " 
 
 Mr. Kennedy maintained an alarmed silence. 
 
 *' What is the chief saying, papa ? " asked Kate. 
 ^' You are positively looking frightened." 
 
 " Oh, nothing — nothing in particular ! " was her 
 father's hurried reply. 
 
 " Come, now, mzungu, don't raise her price too 
 high. I shall give you three large tusks for her. 
 That, you know, would buy a dozen Wa-Chaga girls 
 for wives." 
 
 "But, Seri, you are quite mistaken. We never 
 sell our daughters in that way ! " exclaimed 
 Kennedy, with rising alarm. 
 
 An incredulous expression passed over Seri's
 
 ULU. 91 
 
 face. ^' I shall give you five tusks — oh yes — and 
 I shall send out my young men and capture some 
 gh'ls from Machame. You shall have one or two 
 into the bargain." 
 
 " Impossible ! Impossible ! " cried Kennedy, in 
 horror. *' I won't and can't sell my daughter for 
 five, nor ten, nor twenty tusks — no, not for all the 
 ivory of Kilimanjaro." 
 
 Seri looked the picture of surprise, chagrin, and 
 scepticism. " What can the mzungu want ? " he 
 asked himself mentally. A haj)py thought, how- 
 ever, came to his aid. *' Well, then, you will give 
 her to me," he resumed more hopefully — " won't 
 you? She will teach me, you know, to become 
 like the husbands of the white women," he added 
 triumphantly, remembering Gilmour's intentions 
 with regard to his daughter. 
 
 '* I can neither give her to you nor sell her," 
 was all that Kennedy could reply. 
 
 " Now, papa, do tell me ; what's the meaning of 
 this mysterious conversation ? It is very cruel of 
 you to keep me in suspense ! " cried Kate, again 
 puzzled by the look of concern on her father's 
 face, and yet seeing nothing in Seri's manner and 
 looks to explain it. "I am sure it is something 
 about me ! " 
 
 '' Oh yes, it's about you. But there is no reason 
 to be alarmed. Just wait a bit."
 
 92 ULU.- 
 
 ** But why not ? " urged Seri in eager tones and 
 with growing excitement. " The Wa-doetch (Ger- 
 mans) take wives from among our maidens ; why, 
 then, should not your daughter marry me — Seri, 
 chief of Kindi ? She will be my chief wife. She 
 won't have to work in the fields, nor carry loads — at 
 least, not till she is old," he added to himself sotto 
 voce, " True, I am black, and your daughter is soft 
 and white as a fleecy cloud in a summer sky. But 
 what matters it ? I have heard it reported that 
 at Pisgah you say all men are brothers. Is it 
 different here in Kindi? If not, why won't you 
 give me your daughter ? " 
 
 *' Yes, it is true. Before Maungu we are all 
 brothers. Still I cannot give you my daughter 
 for a wife." 
 
 *'What do you mean by 'before Maungu'?" 
 queried Seri. 
 
 " I mean There is no use talking about it ; 
 
 my daughter cannot be yours," again exclaimed 
 Mr. Kennedy, avoiding Seri's posing question. 
 
 '' You won't give her to me ? You refuse me ! 
 me ! ME ! " cried Seri passionately, no longer able 
 to restrain his feelings. 
 
 *'I can do nothing else," replied the missionary 
 in great agitation. 
 
 Seri sprang to his feet, boiling over with wrath. 
 ''And what if I should take her?" he demanded
 
 ULU. 93 
 
 furiously, while he nervously fingered his kuob- 
 kerry with the instinctive savage impulse to brain 
 the offender. '' What can you do to prevent me 
 carrying her to my house, as the eagle carries the 
 lamb to its nest '? See, my young men sui'round 
 you. Their spears are bright and glistening. I 
 have but to give the word and they will drip with 
 blood — your blood. Your body will be food for the 
 hyaenas, and your daughter will be my mate. What 
 do you say now? Speak, speak, before my men 
 pierce you with their spears." 
 
 That was a terrible moment for Mr. Kennedy. 
 He, too, had jumped to his feet to clasj) his arm 
 about his daughter, as if he could protect her from 
 all evil. Before them stood Seri, shaking his rugged 
 club in their faces, and completely possessed by a 
 fury never accustomed to be restrained. Around 
 the shed crowded fifty warriors, standing in naked 
 savagery, their cloths thrown aside, and poising 
 their ready spears, awaiting but the word of com- 
 mand to make them do their bloody office. 
 
 In this critical moment, and possessed as he was 
 with horrible fears for his daughter, Mr. Kennedy 
 never lost his self-command. His indomitable 
 spirit and Christian faith never showed so well as 
 when he faced with unflinching eye the negro chief 
 and his bloodthirsty warriors. Xor did Kate belie 
 her parentage. She did not understand the cause
 
 94 ULU. 
 
 of the volcanic outburst, but she knew full well the 
 meaning of the threatening attitudes. With one 
 hand she grasped her father's arm, while the other 
 travelled stealthily to the revolver, which she carried 
 always in her pocket. There was a slight paling 
 of the cheek, a tightening of the lips; but she 
 stood, like her father, erect, and, like her father, 
 eyed Seri with unfaltering spirit. 
 
 The chief looked with profound astonishment 
 from one to the other. He had expected to see 
 them both collapse in terror, whereas they seemed 
 to defy him to do his worst. His fury toned down 
 as he asked himself. Had they magical medicines 
 by which to protect themselves ? Might they not 
 turn the spears against the users? He began to 
 regret his precipitate action. 
 
 Happily at this moment a venerable elder stepped 
 forward and whispered something in the chief's 
 ear, of which the words '^ mzungu " and " Pepo-ni " 
 alone reached Mr. Kennedy. Seri's face softened 
 still further. At a signal his men fell back and 
 resumed their cotton wrappers, their indifferent 
 expression, and squatting posture. Seri himself 
 next sat down, and graciously signed to the 
 Kennedys to do the same. 
 
 " Be not afraid, mzungu," he commenced in 
 his soft, musical voice. " Think not I meant to 
 take from you the light of your household. She is
 
 ULU. 95 
 
 like Ngai (God), and therefore not for me. I meant 
 but to show you the quickness of my men to obey 
 me, and show them the courage of the wazungu." 
 
 " Of course the chief Seri could not intend evil 
 to the white people who are his friends," replied 
 Kennedy, politely, hardly yet recovered from the 
 painful fright he had received. 
 
 " My heart leaps joyfully within me," cried the 
 chief. " Who so great, so wise, and bold as the 
 wonderful white people ? We are but beasts before 
 you." 
 
 "Now, papa, I won't stand this any longer," 
 here interrupted Miss Kennedy in English. " What 
 has all this been about ? " 
 
 "You may as well know now, I suppose. Seri 
 wanted me to give you to him for a wife. When 
 I refused he threatened to take you." 
 
 Kate's only comment was a startled " Oh ! " 
 but there was a light in her eye which eloquently 
 said that she would have had a final word in the 
 arrangement. 
 
 " It's all right now, though," added Mr. Kennedy. 
 
 " Now that we are friends, let me ask you a 
 question," again broke in Seri, speaking Ki-Swahili, 
 which Kate could understand faii'ly well. 
 
 " Speak, sultani ! " 
 
 " Could you not get me one or two white women? 
 I assure you I will pay you well for them."
 
 96 ULU. 
 
 *' But I have told you we don't sell our daughters 
 in that way." 
 
 ^'Oh yes, I know; but the mzungu of Pepo-ni 
 told me that plenty of white men would like to 
 get rid of their wives. Could you not get some 
 for me ? Only," he hastened to add, '' not too old. 
 I would like them at least to be nice and young." 
 
 "You must have misunderstood the mzungu," 
 replied Mr. Kennedy, gravely, though Kate could 
 not help laughing merrily. " I am sure no white 
 woman could be got in such a manner." 
 
 " Truly the wazungu are incomprehensible ! Are 
 you sure there is no way of getting a supply ? " 
 
 "None whatever." 
 
 "Oh, stop a minute," cried Seri, as a new idea 
 struck him. " I have given my daughter to an 
 mzungu, and he says he will make her like the 
 wives of the white men. Does that mean that he 
 will make her white like your daughter ? " 
 
 "Oh no, no! Impossible!" replied Kennedy, 
 laughing, in spite of himself. 
 
 " Well, that's what he says. Now hsten. I will 
 give you lots of ivory if you will turn some of my 
 girls into nice white women ; or, if you like, for 
 each girl you turn out like your daughter I will 
 give you a plump young maiden for yourself. 
 There ! " And Seri assumed a look which said, 
 " That will fetch you if anything will."
 
 ULU. 97 
 
 Kennedy was greatly amused by the request, 
 though horrified by the nature of the suggested 
 recompense. Once more he emphatically dis- 
 claimed all power to get or make the chief a white 
 wife. 
 
 '' I thought you would have shown yourself more 
 my friend," said Seri, in a disappointed tone, and 
 with rising doubts as to Mr. Kennedy's veracity. 
 
 " I am very sorry I cannot help you ; but what 
 you ask is beyond any man's power, black or white." 
 
 After one or two further appeals on Seri's part 
 the conversation turned to more ordinary affairs. 
 The customary present was given and received 
 graciously. Thus mollified, Seri listened patiently 
 while the missionary recounted the object of his 
 visit, which was to obtain the chief's permission 
 to found a mission station at his village. 
 
 Seri replied that he yearned with his whole 
 heart to be taught to read and write. He would 
 listen with pleasure to anything that the mzungu's 
 Maungu had to say to them, though if He was no 
 better than their God, the less one knew of Him 
 the better. Still, as the Malaam said he was quite 
 different, he (Seri) would Hke to learn something 
 about Him. The mzungu of Pepo-ni, however, 
 must be consulted, as he (Seri) had promised not 
 to have any dealings with white men without 
 informing him. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 uLU. 
 
 This result, upon the whole, was satisfactory to 
 the missionary, as he could not but believe that 
 Mr. Gilmour would consent at once. He therefore 
 made up his mind to visit Mr. Gilmour as soon as 
 possible, in spite of his churlish manner. 
 
 The interview now concluded, Seri leaving his 
 guests in the most friendly manner, and further 
 showing his good feeling by sending them a fat 
 sheep, some delicious milk, sugar-cane, and several 
 large bunches of bananas. 
 
 The Kennedys, having refreshed themselves on 
 some of this fare, and rested during the heat of 
 the day, commenced their return in the cool of the 
 afternoon. At sunset they arrived at an out-station 
 of the mission, and next morning they reached 
 their headquarters, at Pisgah or Mkuyuni in Man- 
 dara's territory.
 
 ULU. 99 
 
 CHAPTEE YIII. 
 
 If the result of the meeting between Gilmour and 
 the Kennedys had caused surprise and disappoint- 
 ment to the latter, it had a no less marked effect, 
 though of a different character, upon the former. 
 
 As Gilmour leisurely sauntered homeward that 
 sunny April morning, he felt as if he had been 
 dreaming, nay, was still in a dream. For the 
 moment Ulu was driven out of his mind. He 
 discussed no longer the various aspects of savage 
 versus civilized life. A flood of pleasant memories 
 was aroused by the girl who had so unexpectedly 
 crossed his joath, the agreeable recollection that 
 she had betrayed a touch of the Scottish accent 
 bringing with it a whiff of Highland air, an aroma 
 of heather. He was no longer on Kilimanjaro in 
 truth, but far away in bonnie Scotland. 
 
 In a single moment Gilmour seemed to live over 
 the earlier years of his manhood, with their hopes 
 and aspirations, their cherished ideals and ambi-
 
 100 ULU, 
 
 tions, tbeii' 3'outliful friendships, and all the more 
 pleasant phases of the civilized life which a few 
 minutes before he had been proving to his own 
 satisfaction to be hollow and artificial. As he 
 contrasted these with the broken idols which now 
 surrounded him, he sighed regretfully, and his face 
 became overcast with a look of depression which, if 
 Miss Kennedy had seen it, would have gone far to 
 soften her reflections on his strange manner. 
 
 Although this unhappy effect was the immediate 
 result of his meeting with Miss Kennedy, Gilmour 
 at first thought very little about that young lady 
 herself. She had only, as it were, presented a 
 magic mu'ror to him, in which he saw the bright - 
 hued memories of the past placed side by side 
 with the more sombre realities of the present. 
 Gradually, however, the pictm-e faded away to give 
 place to the image of the fair young Scotchwoman 
 whom he had that morning so unexpectedly en- 
 countered. 
 
 Having seen no European women for months, 
 Gilmour had unconsciously lowered his standard 
 of female beauty to suit the dusky types by which 
 he was surrounded. From the new standpoint he 
 pronounced this girl pretty or that one ugl}', 
 according as she approached or deviated from 
 the Chaga ideal. Now suddenly a white girl had 
 appeared before him like the inhabitant of another
 
 ULU. 101 
 
 world, and, in comparison with the Wa-Chaga, she 
 seemed supremely beautiful. 
 
 x\s Gilmour recalled her soft brown eyes and 
 intellectual type of head, he thought to himself 
 that here, after all, was a civilized girl with a mind 
 and soal not to be cramped and bounded by 
 society's restrictions and requirements. 
 
 While thus absorbed in his reflections, Gilmour 
 sat down to wait for Uledi, who had fallen behind. 
 Presently the Zanzibaris arrived, Ulii with them. 
 The sight of the little M-Chaga startled Gilmour 
 back to the consciousness of his present situation, 
 and remembering his projects of the hour previous, 
 he fixed his gaze sharply and searchingly on his 
 little protegee's face. 
 
 In his present mood Ulu appeared altogether in 
 a new light. Her lips seemed thicker, her nose 
 more depressed and flat, her jaws more projecting, 
 her colour more unpleasing — and then the young 
 man's face puckered with an expression of disgust 
 as he detected an odour of rancid castor oil. The 
 feeling of absolute repulsion which had come upon 
 him on first entertaining the idea of marrying a 
 native girl now returned with tenfold force, and 
 he shuddered at the very thought. 
 
 Ulu, on her part, accustomed as a woman to 
 watch and fear the varying emotions on the faces 
 of the lords of creation, felt with savage instinct
 
 102 ULU. 
 
 that there was something wrong; and, the white 
 man being as yet an unknown quantity, she shrank 
 back in terror, expecting the stern look to be 
 followed by something worse. As among her own 
 peoi)le, the mzungu might — from the pure pleasure 
 of displaying his rights — take to beating her, nay, 
 he might even kill and eat her, for who could tell 
 the lengths to which white men would go ? 
 
 The sight of Ulu's terrified face brought Gilmour 
 back to his senses at once. Eeproaching himself 
 vigorously as an " ass " and a " fool," he jumped 
 to his feet. 
 
 "Come now, Ulu," he said cheerilj^ "you mustn't 
 be afraid of me. We are near Pepo-ni, and, once 
 there, you'll see what lots of beautiful things you'll 
 have ! There, that's right. Hey ! Uledi, hurry 
 up. Come along, mtoto!" And Gilmour, to make 
 amends for his late sternness and encourage his 
 little charge, took her as tenderly by the hand as 
 if she had been some delicate slip of an English 
 girl, unaccustomed to rough mountain paths. 
 
 This extraordinary action on Gilmour's part dis- 
 turbed Ulu more than ever. She could have under- 
 stood his knocking her about for the fun of the 
 thing, but his taking her hand ! What did that 
 mean? Was he afraid she would run away? If so, 
 why did he not give her over to one of his men to 
 be dragged along ? Furtively she cast her eyes up
 
 ULU. 103 
 
 at Gilmour's face. He was smiling pleasantly. 
 His grasp, too, was not that of harshness. Her 
 mother in childish days had looked at and helped 
 her along just so. The more Ulu thought of it 
 the more puzzled she became. She had jumped 
 from one big surprise to another. Her whole 
 little world of ideas was upset, and mentally she 
 did not know whether she was standing on her 
 head or on her feet. With growing confidence, 
 however, she trotted along ; and thus, hand in hand, 
 the white man and the negro maiden traversed the 
 forest-shaded paths, and at noontide entered the 
 idyllic shades of Pepo-ni. 
 
 The introduction of Ulu into the aristocratic and 
 exclusive circles of Pepo-ni on the footing of future 
 mistress speedily became the subject of indignant 
 comment among the men's wives and daughters. 
 Kage, surprise, and jealousy possessed each dusky 
 bosom. Uledi's wife foresaw that she would have 
 to abdicate her position as leading lady of Pepo-ni. 
 The marriageable girls felt the situation even more 
 keenly. It had never hitherto occurred to them to 
 think that a marriage with their master was within 
 the range of possibility. And now, all at once, a low 
 M-Chaga girl, an mshenzi (wild or savage person), 
 was introduced to them as their master's future 
 wife. The possibilities of the might-have-been 
 flashed across their minds at the very moment
 
 104 ULU. 
 
 when they saw their case was hopeless. And to 
 be passed over for an mshenzi ! If the Bwana 
 wanted a wife, ay, or half a dozen wives, why did 
 he not take one or all of them — they who were 
 wangwana (freed or noble people) ? Needless, how- 
 ever, to recount all the adverse criticism which was 
 passed on the fresh arrival, and on the bad taste 
 of their master, the moment the latter was beyond 
 earshot. Nevertheless their scowls and remarks, 
 as the little maid was carried off by Uledi's wife, 
 under whose charge she was to remain while under- 
 going her education, boded ill for Ulu's future 
 peace and comfort. 
 
 That evening, after dinner, and while seated 
 comfortably in his canvas folding-chair sipping his 
 coffee, Gilmour, in spite of himself, fell to thinking 
 about Miss Kennedy, and, through her, of numerous 
 subjects which for months he had carefully avoided. 
 After a few minutes of this indulgence some idea 
 crossed his mind. Taking a whistle from his 
 pocket, he blew a shrill note. 
 
 ** Eh, wallah ! " was the response sung out 
 vigorously from the kitchen, and followed imme- 
 diately by the api)earance of a Zanzibari. 
 
 *' Bring me the last lot of books which came up 
 from the coast, Tubu," said Gilmour. " They are 
 in the tin box near my bed." 
 
 " Ngemma (Very good)," was Tubu's laconic
 
 ULU. 105 
 
 reply, as he hurried off. "Here they are, Bwana," 
 he said, as returning he placed a bundle of magazines 
 in Gilmour's hands. 
 
 "Thank you, all right!" and Gilmour settled 
 himself back in his chair. 
 
 Looking over the bundle, he selected several 
 numbers of the East Central African Missionary 
 Magazine, which had been sent up to him, but 
 had not hitherto been thought worth looking into. 
 His meeting with the Kennedys, and the newborn 
 interest he felt in them, made him look over these 
 periodicals now in the hope of finding some descrip- 
 tions of the missionarj^'s doings in Mandara's 
 country. 
 
 Discovering the last November number, Gilmour 
 scanned the index till he found " Kilimanjaro." 
 
 Turning up the article in question, he read it 
 over, but evidently with little satisfaction, to judge 
 from the half-muttered, contemptuous remarks 
 which ever and anon escaped him — 
 
 "Bah ! what a lot of fools there are, to be sure, 
 in this world ! Humph ! BajMsni of Jonathan 
 JJledVs child. . . . Signs of a deeper interest in the 
 hearing of the Word shoivn by Mandara ; followed 
 by — oh, that is like Mandara — a request for more 
 cloth ; " and Gilmour laughed heartily as he re- 
 called various stories about the results of Mandara's 
 insinuating wiles.
 
 106 uLU. 
 
 " What have we here ? Finding it difficult to 
 secure an attendance at jyuhlic worship, I have hit 
 upon a plan ichich may work for good with these poor 
 heathens, though in a manner adopting the mode of 
 ^carfare of the ivorld. To all those who attend 
 morning service tickets are issued, ichich secure to 
 each work for the day. As the labour is of the lightest, 
 and payment in the much-coveted copper icire, large 
 numbers now gather in attentive and devout audiences 
 to hear the Word, ichere before there was nothing but 
 indifference and an empty church. The hand of the 
 Lord has surely led me to this thing. Well, I call 
 that simply delightful. Wonder if there's any more 
 like it? Let me see;" and Gilmour picked up 
 the next number, and turned over its pages. 
 
 " Confound it all ! " he once more cried to him- 
 self, " the same list of old maids' stories. Humph ! 
 Maiidara more regidar in his attendance at church. 
 Yes, and, of course, expects to be paid for it. 
 H'm ! Marriage of Job Makatubu ivitli Rebecca 
 Kyioli. — Trouble icith icomen ivho have been sum- 
 marily divorced, as converts are only allowed one 
 icife. Eather hard lines, to be sure ! The * no 
 church no work' system is still successful, evidently. 
 Ah, here's something better ! In a day or tivo 
 (d.v.) I leave for Mombasa, ivhere I expect, if it is 
 the Lord's tuill, to meet my daughter, ivho, in response 
 to my appeal, but, I hope, also actuated by a higher
 
 VLU. 107 
 
 motive, has left hehind her the jjrized fellowship of 
 Christian brethren to devote herself to the Lord's 
 2cork on Kilimanjaro. As she has a very considerable 
 medical training, acquired in Edinburgh, I anticipate 
 that she icill find a ivay to be the physician to the 
 souls of many through curing their bodies. I ask the 
 prayers of the Church for her safe arrival, and that 
 her labours may be abundantly blessed. By Jove ! 
 this is better. So Miss Kennedy is a lady^medical. 
 Bless me, I may yet fall into her hands as a 
 patient. How jolly to be looked after morally and 
 physically by such as she ! Let me see. There 
 must be more about her. November — h'm !— Feb- 
 ruary Ah, here it is ! " and Gilmour picked 
 
 up the March number of the magazine. 
 
 " My daughter has now been with me for nearly 
 a month, and already I feel my hands mightily 
 strengthened in the Lord's work. H'm ! h'm ! hi 
 her medical capacity she has already acquired much 
 fame by numerous cures, and the former apparently 
 impenetrable defences, which the devil has raised in 
 the hearts of many, have been broken down, giving an 
 entrance to the healing virtues of the Christian faith. 
 . . . I preached yesterday for the first time at Kota's 
 village, and was delighted by an attentive audience, 
 who seemed much impressed with the message. I 
 ivas, however, shocked and saddened at the close to 
 find that they had been more worldly-minded than I
 
 108 ULU. 
 
 had imagined^ as they noisily demanded 'payment for 
 having listened to me. As I was, of course, quite 
 unprepared to satisfy this demand, they became very 
 violent. Happily, by giving my best black coat from 
 my back to the chief, and my handkerchief and scarf 
 to his principal ivife, I secured their protection, and 
 ivas cdloived at length to depart in peace. Though 
 weary at heart, I consoled myself with the text, ' Cast 
 thy bread upon the icaters : for thou shcdtfind it after 
 many days ' (Eccles. xi. 1). I have formed the design 
 of visiting the village of Seri of Kindi, for the purpose 
 of bringing before its inhahitants the inestimable 
 blessings of our faith. I hope ive may be successful 
 in establishing a mission there. I learn that there is 
 a youyig Englishman of the name of Gilmour staying 
 in Kindi, but everything connected ivith him is 
 enveloped in mystery. As, however, I hear no evil of 
 him, I hope I may yet be able to bring about relations 
 of Christian fellowship. 
 
 " Oh, ho ! " was Gilmour's comment when he 
 had read thus far. *'I understand now what his 
 object is in going to Seri. As for the last expecta- 
 tion he expresses, I cannot say that it's reciprocal. 
 As far as one can gather from his letters, Mr. 
 Kennedy is of the usual run of missionaries — 
 zealous and single-minded in pursuing his own 
 idea of the only true way to Christianize the negro; 
 ready, I suppose, to die in harness and make a
 
 ULU. 109 
 
 martyr of himself, and yet narrow-minded to a 
 degree, without a doubt ; ready to believe in 
 miracles, and that a civilized Christian can be 
 turned out of a savage in a twinkling. Then his 
 daughter ! Not much to be gathered about her 
 yet. Strong-minded, of course ; a missionary blue- 
 stocking — although that, I take it, is not verj^ 
 common. And yet, by Jove ! her eyes, her merri- 
 ment at my confusion — her whole bearing — don't 
 seem quite to fit into the idea that she is either 
 a blue-stocking or a fool. Well, it doesn't much 
 matter what she is. I must be off to bed ; " and 
 Gilmour, having finished his summing-up, jumped 
 to his feet, took a last look round the compound, 
 and disappeared into his house.
 
 no ULU. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 Next day Gilmour rose with the determination to 
 think no more about the Kennedys, nor allow 
 himself to be bothered further with the memories, 
 good or bad, of the past. Ulu and the present were 
 to occupy his attention. He must, he concluded, 
 commence work upon his pupil without delay. 
 
 " Tubu, bring Ulu," he ordered, after he had 
 made sure that any floating fever germs would 
 not find congenial breeding ground in an empty 
 stomach. 
 
 '* Here she is, Bwana," cried Tubu, as he ushered 
 Ulu into his sitting-room. 
 
 " Very well. Just wait ; perhaps I may want 
 
 you." 
 
 As yet there was no alteration in Ulu's scanty 
 dress, profuse head ornaments, and sooty greasi- 
 ness. She still retained, too, the expression of 
 a timid wild animal in new and doubtful quarters. 
 Squatting down on the floor with her legs doubled
 
 ULU. Ill 
 
 under her, she cast furtive, though wistful glances, 
 sometimes at Gilmour's face, sometimes at the 
 strange ohjects in the room. ''He wanted her to 
 become like the wives of the white men. How was 
 the change to be effected? " she wonderingly asked 
 herself. Gilmour, on his part, after a few words 
 of greeting and inquiry, sank into silence. Brought 
 face to face with his pupil, the diflficulty of the task 
 he had set himself appeared in its true proportions. 
 How was he to set about it ? How bridge over the 
 immense gulf that separated his thoughts and feel- 
 ings from hers ? How even make a commence- 
 ment ? Thus equally plunged in perplexity, the 
 two sat regarding each other — he vaguely, dreamily, 
 wondering how he should begin ; she humbly, 
 expectantly, more than half frightened, looking 
 forward to the next sm'prise. 
 
 Gilmour speedily got an answer to one at least 
 of his silent questions. It gradually dawned upon 
 him that the air of the hut had an unusual odour. 
 He looked at Tubu inquiringly ; then his eyes fell 
 upon Ulu, and he laughed to himself as he found 
 in her shining skin the explanation of the strange 
 smell. 
 
 " Oh," thought he, " I am for going too quick, 
 I see. I must commence with the body before 
 going on to the soul. Here is work for soap and 
 hot water ! And when I think of it, what about
 
 112 ULU. 
 
 her dress ? Yet after all, why should I trouble 
 about that ? Why should she not go about as she 
 is ? There is no real connection between clothes 
 and virtue ; and, by Jove ! that supple, well-made 
 figure could not be improved by hanging bits of 
 cotton on it. But suppose she became my wife ! 
 And then amongst all these Zanzibaris? Whew! 
 No, no ; that won't do. It may be very ideal and 
 very romantic, but it won't do ; oh no, by no 
 means. 
 
 " Tubu, we must get Ulu a dress," he at length 
 remarked, as much, however, to himself as to his 
 " boy." 
 
 ^'Yes, Bwana." 
 
 '' What will be best ? " 
 
 " x\h, Bwana, how should I know ? " cried Tubu, 
 thinking his master was making fun of him. 
 
 "Don't be afraid; speak out," urged Gilmour, 
 interested to hear what the negro would suggest. 
 
 Tubu stood for a moment in perplexity. Then 
 he took off his kofia, or skull-cap, and scratched 
 his newly shaved cranium, a ceremony which, 
 seemingly, had the desired effect. 
 
 *' Perhaps the bibi we passed yesterday will give 
 you one of her cast-off dresses," he exclaimed, 
 remembering how the women at mission stations 
 were usually clad. 
 
 *'0h no, no, Tubu; that won't do for me,"
 
 VLU. 11 
 
 Gilinoiir replied, laughing heartily as he pictured 
 Ulu made hideous by corset and gown. Then he 
 remembered reading the night before that Miss 
 Kennedy had invented a costume for her girl con- 
 verts. *' Wonder what it is, now ? Rational dress ? 
 divided skirt, perhaps ? Pooh ! too preposterous." 
 
 *' Why not dress her like the Zanzibar women? " 
 asked Tubu again. 
 
 " Simple enough, at any rate," commented Gil- 
 mour. " Easily made, and not difficult to put on 
 and off." A fairly accurate description certainly, 
 as the dress alluded to consisted of a plain sheet, 
 wrapped tightly round the body under the armpits 
 and falling to the feet. ''I don't like it, though," 
 was Gilmour's conclusion. 
 
 " Well, Bwana, I don't know anything else. All 
 the people I know wear less than Ulu now; you 
 couldn't dress her in hides like the Masai." 
 
 '* The very thing ! " cried Gilmour, joyfully. 
 "We will make her a Masai di'ess." 
 
 "What, Bwana, with bullocks' hides?" queried 
 Tubu in surprise. 
 
 " Oh dear, no ,* but with white cotton. We must 
 see about it at once. You go and look out some 
 cloth and beads." 
 
 When Tubu disappeared Gilmour continued to 
 think out the details of Ulu's future toilette. After 
 carefully considering whether there would not bo 
 
 VOL. r. I
 
 114 ULU. 
 
 too much display of limb, be concluded, " No ; tbat 
 would only give ber a more classical appearance. 
 Then tbere's ber bead," be went on meditatively; 
 ''will it be better to keep it sbaved ? Tbat would 
 be ratber queer. We may consider it later on, 
 however. The rest will do, though — quite a pic- 
 ture ! " and, Gilmour's ardent nature getting the 
 better of him, he suddenly jumped to bis feet with 
 the sharply uttered exclamation " Splendid ! " 
 
 On hearing this ejaculation Ulu started up in a 
 fright, thinking that this was the white men's way 
 of saying to their wives, '' Get out ! " 
 
 '' Oh, don't run away, Ulu," cried Gilmour, 
 seeing her make precipitately for the door. '' Come 
 to me ; I want to have a talk with you. There, 
 sit down beside me. You're not afraid of me 
 again, are you ? " 
 
 " The white man is good. He will not kill me," 
 she replied submissively. 
 
 " Of course not. How absurd ! Why, I shall be 
 a fa — that is, of course, I shall be a husband to 
 you, if you do what I tell you. The wazungu treat 
 their wives as they treat themselves." 
 
 This statement was beyond Ulu's comprehension. 
 There was nothing like it in her experience of 
 domestic life. 
 
 ''To be my wife, however," Gilmour resumed, 
 *' you must become like the women of Ulyiah."
 
 ULU. 115 
 
 A shade of apprehension passed over Ulu's face. 
 *' Won't it be very painful, Bwana ? " she ventured 
 at length to ask, though almost fearing the reply. 
 
 ''Painful? Certainly not. Do you think I am 
 going to flog you into being like a white woman ? " 
 
 ''Won't you have to skin me?" she continued 
 tremulously. 
 
 " Good gracious ! How ridiculous ! What could 
 I do with your skin ? " 
 
 "Well, then, will sabuni (soap) do it?" she 
 further questioned, this time more hopefully. 
 
 "Soap do it! What on earth do you mean? 
 Painful ! skinning ! soap ! What can she be driving 
 at ? " 
 
 " Is it a disease, then, such as makes our people 
 turn albinos ? " was the next astounding query. 
 
 "Why, bless my soul! this is too much; she 
 must be mad. What are you talking about ? What 
 is it you think may be a disease ? " 
 
 But Ulu could not answer. The growing sharp- 
 ness of the Bwana's tone and his irritated look 
 once more frightened her into tears. 
 
 " How shall we ever understand each other at 
 this rate, I wonder ? " Gilmour mentally ejacu- 
 lated; then aloud, " Come, come now, mtoto (little 
 one). Don't cry like that. I am not going to do 
 you any harm. Try again." 
 
 "I want — I want to know if it is a disease to
 
 116 VLU. 
 
 become like the '^dves of the white men," she 
 sobbed out at length. 
 
 At this Gilmour could not help laughing merrily, 
 spite of Ulu's distress. Love, he knew, had been 
 described as a disease, but it had not before occurred 
 to him that the process of becoming like the wives 
 of the white men might likewise be regarded from 
 a pathological standpoint. 
 
 ^' This is really too ridiculous ! " he exclaimed to 
 himself. ''What could have put that into the 
 child's head? No, mtoto," he resumed aloud; 
 "you won't have to go through anything of that 
 sort, I hope." 
 
 '' Then will jow. give me some medicines, or 
 will you pray to Maungu to do it for you ? " 
 
 Gilmour felt inclined to tear his hair. He began 
 to be angry with himself and with Ulu, and for a 
 moment even thought of sending her back at once 
 to her father. 
 
 "Are you sick?" he asked after a time, deter- 
 mined to make one more effort. " I'll give you 
 some castor oil if you like." 
 
 " But castor oil is no good, Bwana," she replied, 
 thinking of the external uses of that unsavoury 
 lubricant, and knowing that all the oiling she 
 bad ever indulged in had left her as black as 
 ever. 
 
 *'How do you know?" asked Gilmour. "It
 
 ULU. 117 
 
 puts my men riglit at once." It was, indeed, Gil- 
 mour's simple panacea for all savage maladies. 
 
 ''But, Bwana^ I have used it every da}^," 
 answered Ulu, " and it's of no use." 
 
 " Well, then, I don't know what to give you till 
 you tell me better what's wrong with you." 
 
 Ulu had now arrived at the limit of her theories 
 as to the possible methods of changing her 
 Ethiopian skin, and she looked wistfully over her 
 swarthy form, wondering by what unthought-of 
 means her colour would be made like Gilmour's, so 
 that she might fulfil the conditions she supposed 
 he required in order to make her his wife. 
 
 The whole affair began to appear very terrible. 
 For anything Ulu knew, Gilmour might boil her. 
 Better run away and continue all her life to be a 
 slave and be flogged, than put through any such 
 whitening process. "With rising fears Ulu's face 
 lengthened till she looked the picture of wretchedness. 
 
 Gilmour, crusted over and embittered as he 
 was by rankling memories, and liking to imagine 
 himself hard and callous, as if he could thus steel 
 himself against the world, was not proof against 
 a woman's tears, even though that woman was 
 only a savage. Before Ulu's distress his irritation 
 melted away, and softly patting her cheek, he told 
 her in a coaxing voice to pluck up courage and 
 explain her fears and perplexities.
 
 118 ULU. 
 
 "Bwana, Bwana ! " she at length stammered 
 out, '' how am I to become white ? " • | 
 
 This direct way of stating her troubles at once 
 made the situation, hitherto so puzzling, quite clear. 
 Gilmour's first impulse was to indulge in a hearty 
 fit of laughter; but, catching sight of Ulu's still '^ 
 frightened face, he restrained himself. '^ 
 
 '' How deliciously absurd ! " he thought. '' While 
 I have been thinking of the inner — man, can I say ? 
 — she has been thinking, like the sex, of the outer 
 woman ? Oh, Ulu, Ulu ! " he continued aloud, 
 addressing the perplexed damsel, " I don't want to 
 alter your colour. Why, bless me ! I like it far 
 better as it is. Mine looks quite ghastly beside 
 your warm, nut-brown skin." 
 
 '' Then it won't hurt to make me as you want ? " 
 asked Ulu, with brightening expression. 
 
 "Of course not. All you have got to do at 
 l^resent is to give up grease and soot for cotton. ^^^ 
 You must wash yourself often, and you must never ^ 
 be afraid of me again. You must also try to 
 remember lots of things 1 shall tell you. What do 
 you think of that, now ? " 
 
 "Ulu is the slave of the Bwana," was the girl's- 
 characteristic reply. 
 
 "Nonsense," cried Gilmour ; "I have told you 
 before the wazungu have r.o slaves. You shall 
 have plenty of delicious food, and nice clothes, and 
 
 r.^
 
 ULIL 119 
 
 beautiful beads ; nobocl}^ ^"ill ever strike you ; and 
 3'ou -will never have to work in the shambas, nor 
 carry loads. Ah, that makes 3'ou smile. It's not 
 so bad, you see, to belong to the mzungu, eh? 
 Stop a minute; I'll bring you something good;" 
 and Gilmour, pleased at having arrived at a better 
 understanding, left Ulu for a moment to get her a 
 lump of sugar. 
 
 Returning with it, he stood watching Ulu's 
 wondering enjoyment as she eagerly sucked the 
 " sweet white stone." 
 
 *' Did you ever taste anything so sweet ?" he asked. 
 
 Ulu's mouth-, however, .was too well filled to 
 allow her to express her satisfaction other than by 
 a further expansion of the smile which now lighted 
 up her beaming face. 
 
 Suddenly a new thought struck Gilmour, and, 
 crossing the room, he took out a case of photographs 
 from one of his boxes. 
 
 ''Now then, Ulu," he said, ''come here, and I'll 
 show you what the women of Ulyiah are like. 
 There ! " he added hastily; "not too close. Don't 
 rub against my white clothes." Opening the case, 
 Gilmour displayed a number of cabinet photos of 
 female relations and friends. *' Now, what do you 
 think of them "? Curious, aren't they ? " 
 
 Ulu showed no sign of intelligence. She looked 
 at the photos as at a blank sheet of paper.
 
 J 20 ULU. 
 
 " Don't you see what they are ? " Gilmour asked. 
 
 Ulu only looked puzzled. 
 
 " See," he continued, pomtmg with a pencil as 
 he Avent on ; '' they have got hands and arms, 
 eyes, nose, and mouth, the same as the Wa-Chaga." 
 
 Then a great light of new-horn intelligence 
 sprang into Ulu's eyes, and for the first time she 
 saw the resemblance of these dark objects on the 
 paper to human beings. 
 
 ''Oh, Bwana, Bwana!" she exclaimed in asto- 
 nished ecstasies. "What very small people ! Are 
 they ahve ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, you little stupid ! " 
 
 " Then, are they the wa-pepo (ghosts) of your 
 people ? " she asked in awed tones, at the same 
 time drawing back. 
 
 "Oh no, not that either," said Gilmour, puzzled 
 how to explain in Ki-Swahili how the photos had 
 been taken as the best means of enlightening Ulu 
 as to what they were. His eye fell on a mirror. 
 "Ah, now I'll show you ! " he exclaimed. "Look 
 in this glass. "You see j^ourself there, and me 
 also. Well, the white people know how to keep 
 that image and put it on paper." 
 
 Somewhat reassured, though still awed and in- 
 clined to believe the photos to be the wa-pepo of the 
 wazungu, she returned to their examination. 
 
 "But they have no legs," she cried, with new
 
 ULU. 121 
 
 surprise, as she began to note the appearance of 
 the photographs in detail. 
 
 ''Oh yes, they have!" explained Gilmour, 
 laughing in intense enjoyment of the unsophisti- 
 cated maiden's ideas. " They are hidden by their 
 dress. This is all cloth ; " and he pointed with his 
 finger to the skirt of the gown worn by the lady 
 who was for the moment the centre of interest. 
 
 "But how can they stand straight with such 
 narrow waists ? How can they walk when the 
 wind blows ? " 
 
 "In reality they have 'waists like yourselves, 
 but they bind themselves up with iron and wood 
 'till they become Hke this. They can hardly bend 
 because of the iron casing." 
 
 "Is it not very painful ? " asked Ulu. " Must I 
 be bound up like that ? " 
 
 Again Gilmour laughed, as he surveyed appre- 
 ciatively the girl's undraped figure, and assured 
 her that he had no intention of altering her shape. 
 
 A new wonder now attracted Ulu. " Hai ! hai ! " 
 she cried excitedly. 
 
 " What is it ? " 
 
 " The tattooing. Oh, the beautiful tattooing ! " 
 she exclaimed in ecstasy. 
 
 " Where ? What do jovl mean ? " 
 
 "Why, there ! " and Ulu pointed to the lace-clad 
 shoulders and breast of a dowager.
 
 122 ULU. 
 
 ''Oh, that's not tattoohig; l3nt a pretty kmcl of 
 cloth." 
 
 '' Then is there cloth all over here ? " Ulu further 
 questioned, pointing to the tight bodice of the 
 dress. 
 
 *' Certainty. The ^^omen of Ulyiah only show 
 their hands and face ; all the rest is covered." 
 
 '' How do they get it on ? " 
 
 ''Quite simiDly. This way;" and Gilmour 
 showed how he put on and buttoned his jacket. 
 
 Many other points in the appearance of the 
 English ladies Ulu noted with exclamations of 
 surprise and delight, and half an hour sped swiftly 
 by both for her and her instructor. At last 
 Gilmour reminded her that it was time to return to 
 Uledi's. 
 
 The child's face fell with disappointment. She 
 much preferred remaining with the kind mzungu to 
 going back to the jealous women. She did not, 
 however, dare to remonstrate, and stood silently 
 awaiting orders. 
 
 ''Tubu," said Gilmour to the boy who arrived in 
 response to his signal, '' take Ulu to Bibi Uledi to 
 be scrubbed thoroughly with soap and hot water. 
 Tell the Bibi to come to me afterwards, and I'll see 
 about that Masai dress." 
 
 ''What a delightful little girl!" thought Gil- 
 mour, when the two had disappeared. " There is
 
 ULU. 123 
 
 a blank yirgin soul to work upon. I declare she 
 does not even know she has one. Now, how on 
 earth am I to get at it ? That's the difficulty." 
 
 In thinking it all out, he came to the conclusion 
 that his first object must be to gain the confidence 
 of his protegee. It would not do to go too fast, or 
 try too much at once. Better begin, in the first 
 place, to accustom her to the wearing of clothes 
 and other unusual and irksome habits. After that, 
 he would see how far he could influence and 
 cultivate her little soul. 
 
 "I really wonder what sort of soul she will 
 have? " was Gilmour's final speculation, as he left 
 the house to look round his httle domain pre- 
 paratory to starting for the Kahe on a hunting trip*
 
 124 ULU. 
 
 CHAPTEB X. 
 
 Some clays after Ulu's introduction to Pepo-ni, 
 <jilmour lounged in his house, in pensive mood, 
 wondering what was to be the result of his attempt 
 to transform the little savage. With growing 
 knowledge of her nature, the greater seemed the 
 difficulties of his task, the wider the gulf which 
 separated them. 
 
 In his attempts to get in touch with Ulu's soul, 
 Oilmour had grappled around with all the skill and 
 finesse of which he was capable. But in vain. 
 It eluded all his probings, being either so very 
 small or so completely hidden away. That she 
 had a soul somewhere he did not for a moment 
 question, and his ardent, sanguine nature, naturally 
 inclined to believe the best of everything, would not 
 allow him to doubt that, if he could but once get 
 into touch with it, he would improve it. If it was 
 small and stunted, he would, he felt sure, be able 
 to expand and develop it. If it was buried away or
 
 ULU. 125 
 
 encrusted with a fleshly husk, he would unearth it, 
 and, in a more congenial atmosphere, give it a 
 chance to blossom into, as he enthusiastically 
 thought, '' a thing of beauty and a joy for ever." 
 
 The very difficulty of his task had a charm for 
 Gilmour. He did not like to be beaten, and this 
 alone made him vow he would go on. Sometimes 
 the matter struck him in a humorous light. It 
 tickled his fancy greatly to loicture himself as 
 "Gilmour in quest of a soul." "Better than, 
 diamond digging," thought he, " seeking for this 
 jewel in the matrix of a crude savage life." 
 
 Upon the whole Gilmour concluded that little 
 time had been lost. His first task had been to 
 clear the ground for more direct operations. It 
 was something to have succeeded, as he already 
 had, in breaking Ulu in to more cleanly habits, 
 and accustomed her to the irksome practice of 
 wearing clothes. Little changes of that nature 
 would have their unconscious influence, and bit by 
 bit he meant to find his way into her mind and 
 heart, carefully adapting his mental nutriment to- 
 her powers of assimilation. 
 
 Gilmour rightly felt that his only chance of 
 success lay not in preaching to her from his level, 
 but in getting down 'to hers, and working upwards 
 from that. He must first be able to see things 
 from her point of view, before he could know how
 
 126 uLU. 
 
 properly to guide, mould, and influence that ''little 
 soul" of hers in its growth towards the light. 
 (Gilmour would persist in calling it a '' little soul," 
 partly in an endearing way, partly in humour, and 
 partly because he really thought it must be a very 
 little soul.) Yes ; he must get to the very roots of 
 her being, to loosen up the soil about them, and by 
 letting a purer atmosphere play upon them, destroy 
 deadening influences. 
 
 With the air of a man who had discovered the 
 only true way to elevate and regenerate the negro, 
 he pitied " those poor mistaken missionaries," 
 who w^ould persist in such senseless and imprac- 
 ticable methods, and attempt to graft the higher — 
 nay, the very highest — conceptions of the Christian 
 religion and nineteenth-century civilization upon 
 the undeveloped, barren minds of savages, trust- 
 ing in Providence to do the watering and give the 
 increase. 
 
 Though the task Gilmour had set himself was 
 turning out harder than he had expected, to him- 
 self personally it had brought an unlooked-for 
 reward. Since assuming the arduous quest, he 
 had felt happier than he had been for a very long 
 time. It drew him away from harping on the 
 same old strings, and gave him something to do to 
 occupy his time and attention. He had now some 
 one other than himself in whom to take an interest.
 
 ULU. Ill 
 
 The consequence ^-as that he felt less morally 
 bilious; more of the milk of human kindness 
 flowed about his heart, and less of the acrid 
 humours which had been poisoning all the healthy 
 life within him. He was, in fact, fast becoming the 
 cheery, good-natured fellow of other days, less in- 
 clined to sit in sackcloth and ashes, " surrounded 
 by his broken gods," as he was wont to put it ; 
 perhaps also more disposed to permit new deities 
 to replace the crumbling fragments of the old. 
 
 In a vague sort of way Gilmour began to have 
 an uneasy feeling that he had been playing a 
 rather contemptible role, unworthy of his manhood, 
 making of himself a spectacle to be laughed at 
 more even than pitied. These thoughts, however, 
 as yet came only in transient gleams, and were not 
 established in his mind as fixed ideas. 
 
 He had just told himself for the hundredth time 
 that he had made " a nice fool of himself" (though 
 probably he would very much have resented it, had 
 any one agreed with him), when he was startled 
 from his reverie by a great uproar. Looking up, 
 his eyes fell upon Ulu, who had been playing in 
 the room beside him all the morning. Seated on 
 the floor, with legs partially extended and one 
 hand on the ground supporting her lissom figure, 
 the girl was teasing a monkey that sought with 
 fierce grimace to frighten its mischievous playmate.
 
 128 ULU. 
 
 Worked up to an extreme pitch of affected auger, 
 the agile little creature had just sprung with great 
 fury upon its tormentor. In convulsions of laughter 
 Ulu rolled over on the floor, while the monkey, 
 finding itself master of the situation, literally 
 danced upon her, pulling her loose dress, and, with 
 terrible aspect, screaming and raging, as if it would 
 tell her once for all that it was not to be insulted 
 with impunity. 
 
 For a moment Gilmour sat smiling at the absurd 
 scene. 
 
 ^' Toto," he said quietly. 
 
 At the sound of its master's voice the monkey 
 quieted down, and shrank aside to resume its 
 customary watchful, would-be innocent expression. 
 Ulu jumped to her feet. 
 
 The girl could now be seen to proper advantage, 
 and truly in the figure of chaste classic grace she 
 now presented it was difficult to recognize the little 
 savage of former days. A white, loose-flowing robe, 
 hanging from the left shoulder and passing beneath 
 her right arm, clung in graceful folds about her 
 shapely form. A prettily beaded belt encircled her 
 waist, and prevented the robe from blowing about 
 too freely, at the same time causing it to fall in 
 more artistic lines. The left leg up to the knee 
 showed itself in the most approved classic fashion. 
 A few strings of brightly coloured beads encircled
 
 ULU. 129 
 
 her neck, wrists, and ankles, while dainty beaded 
 sandals protected her small, well-rounded feet. 
 Her skin, now a stranger to grime and grease, 
 showed its natural warm brown tint, anything but 
 disagi-eeable in colour. A crop of black curly hair 
 covered her formerly shining, well- shaved cranium. 
 The look of bewilderment and fear which at first 
 had been her habitual expression had now dis- 
 appeared, and was replaced by a look of childlike 
 content, and at the Bwana's call she ran to his 
 side with all the air of a chartered favourite. 
 
 Although Ulu approached Gilmour thus con- 
 fidently, and established herself on his knees, where 
 she formed a pretty picture in her light draperies, 
 it must not be supposed that she was quite satis- 
 fied with her position. It had lost its terrors, indeed, 
 and many of its aspects she enjoyed immensely; 
 but to her Pepo-ni was a species of prison, where 
 her hitherto unfettered life was chafed and restricted 
 on all hands. This wearing of clothes and washing 
 of body were terribly irksome, and secretly she 
 often longed to roll about on the ground like a 
 puppy, heedless of the result to dress and person. 
 How she missed, too, her customary pleasant rub- 
 bing with oil ! At meals she yearned to throw 
 aside her knife and fork and once more use her 
 fingers — it was so nice to suck them afterwards. 
 
 The women of Pepo-ni were another source of 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 ULU. 
 
 annoyance, persecuting her, as they did, in a 
 thousand little ways, Ulu, for her part, tried to 
 make the best of things, not from any very exalted 
 motive, it must be said, but simply because she 
 believed that if she ran away the mzungu would 
 only send his men and recapture her as his pro- 
 perty, or if he did not then her father would of 
 himself promptly restore her, after bestowing on her 
 a severe beating. To fly elsewhere than to her own 
 home was to be captured and made a slave of. 
 
 While Gilmour rearranged Ulu's dress, as a 
 nurse might a child's, he talked on a variety of 
 subjects suited to her comprehension, and calcu- 
 lated to rouse her curiosity. Suddenly his face 
 developed a look of troubled inquiry. 
 
 "Dear me, Ulu!" he exclaimed. "What's 
 wrong with you ? Are you ill ? " 
 " No, Bwana." 
 
 " But look there ! " and Gilmour pointed to her 
 arms, which presented a strangely mottled appear- 
 ance. 
 
 " I don't feel anything wrong," answered Ulu. 
 " This must be seen to," muttered Gilmour in 
 perplexity. " Good gracious ! It looks dreadful. 
 Can it be some nasty skin disease ? Come here, 
 Tubu," he cried to his servant, who entered at that 
 moment. " Do you know anything about M-Chaga 
 diseases ? "
 
 ULU. 131 
 
 ** Not much, Bwana." 
 
 " Just look at Ulu's arm. There's something 
 wrong with it." 
 
 '' Oh, Bwana, that's nothing ! " replied Tubu, 
 with a gi'in. 
 
 " Nothing ! " echoed his master. " It looks bad 
 enough, anyway." 
 
 ''I think, Bwana, it's because she's not rubbing 
 herself with oil." 
 
 ^' How do you mean ? " 
 
 " All black people become like that without oil," 
 Tubu went on explanatorily. 
 
 " Oh, what a nuisance ! " was Gilmour's un- 
 hesitating comment, while a look of amused disgust 
 crossed his face as he pictured his future wife daily 
 oiled like a piece of machinery or greased like a 
 pair of old boots. '^ Well," he thought to himself, 
 '' I suppose I must do in Chaga what the Wa-Chaga 
 do. It's evidently quite the proper thing, and 
 necessary too, to oil one's wife in these parts. I 
 must see the result, in any case. — Tubu," he added, 
 raising his voice, '' bring me a rag and the olive 
 oil; " and Gilmour laughed grimly as he thought 
 of the ludicrous absurdity of the situation. 
 
 In a few moments Tubu retm-ned with the articles 
 required. 
 
 Ulu's face beamed with pleasure. 
 
 Gravely dipping the rag into the oil, Gilmour 
 proceeded to apply it to Ulu's arms.
 
 132 ULU. 
 
 In the midst of this operation he was suddenly 
 startled by the discharge of three guns at his gate. 
 
 ''Hullo! Strangers! Who can they be?" he 
 cried ; then, bottle and rag in hand, he hurried to 
 the door. " Oh, bother ! " he exclaimed in a tone 
 of vexation, as he arrived in time to see Miss 
 Kennedy riding into the compound, her father 
 walking at her side. 
 
 Although somewhat annoyed at his visitors' in- 
 opportune intrusion, Gilmour's first impulse was 
 to go to greet them courteously. Suddenly he 
 remembered, however, that his baggy pyjamahs 
 and almost buttonless sleeping-jacket did not form 
 a fitting costume in which to receive a lady, and 
 in some confusion he retired precipitately to his 
 room to make himself presentable. 
 
 Gilmour's sudden retreat was seen and mis- 
 interpreted. 
 
 '* There, papa ! Did you see that ? " ex- 
 claimed Miss Kennedy, drawing up indignantly, 
 ** Evidently Mr. Gilmour does not wish to see 
 us." 
 
 '' It certainly looks like it," Mr. Kennedy 
 admitted, ''though I confess I don't see why he 
 shouldn't." 
 
 " Well, if it weren't nearly midday I should say 
 let's turn back at once." 
 
 "We'll hear what this 'boy ' has to say at any
 
 ULU. 133 
 
 rate," said the missionary, as Tubu came towards 
 them. 
 
 *' The Bwan' mkubwa sends his salaams," said 
 the messenger. *' He will be with you in a minute. 
 Here is the baraza," he added, leading the way 
 to the reception house. 
 
 This message relieved both father and daughter 
 alike, for neither could look forward with pleasure 
 to the failure of their mission, or to facing the 
 fierce heat of noon after their morning's toilsome 
 march. Moreover, Miss Kennedy had a keen, 
 though unacknowledged, desire to see and know 
 more of the strange individual who had received her 
 friendly advances with such unlooked-for coolness. 
 
 ''What a delightful place ! " she enthusiastically 
 exclaimed as she dismounted. " Mkuyu-ni " (the 
 Kennedys' place) "is nothing to this. It's a XDer- 
 fect fairyland ! " 
 
 ''All very well, Kate; but I should be better 
 able to appreciate its charms if I had a seat." 
 
 " How thoughtless I am ! We'll soon make that 
 all right. Here is a baraza in keeping with its sur- 
 roundings. There now ! are you quite comfortable. 
 Oh, how delightful after the dreadful heat ! " and 
 the young lady herself sank down on a seat with a 
 sigh of satisfaction. 
 
 The change from the glaring sunlight and oppres- 
 sive atmosphere to the shade and coolness of the
 
 134 ULU. 
 
 open shed was indeed delicious in the extreme ; 
 and Kate, like her father, was for the moment 
 content to forgive Gilmom- and ignore the scene, 
 as she leaned back, with eyes shut, in complete 
 enjoyment of the refreshing change and rest. 
 They were not left long undisturbed, however. 
 
 '' Good morning. Miss Kennedy," cried a 
 voice ; and Miss Kennedy looked up with a start, 
 to find Gilmour before her arrayed in all the glory 
 of a snow-white drill suit. 
 
 "How do you do, Mr. Kennedy?" continued 
 the latter, as he shook hands. '' You must excuse 
 me having kept you waiting. The truth is, I was 
 not presentable ; " and Gilmour, to make amends 
 for his late churlishness, and also feeling bound 
 to be hospitable in his own domains, infused a con- 
 siderable amount of heartiness into his greeting, 
 to the agreeable surprise of his visitors, who had 
 been anticipating his reception with some appre- 
 hension. *' You'll be ready for a wash ! " Gilmour 
 went on, after the usual exchange of civilities. 
 " Come into my house. Tubu, coffee — at once ! " 
 and, intent on his hospitable duties, he led the way 
 to his own quarters. 
 
 When the father and daughter reappeared in 
 the sitting-room, they found Tubu waiting to hand 
 them coffee in the Ai-ab fashion, and Gilmour 
 himself all attention, ready to divine and supply
 
 ULU. 135 
 
 their wants. The little party soon felt quite at 
 home together, and chatted away about one thing 
 and another without a shade of stiffness. 
 
 As Kate sipped her coffee, half sitting, half re- 
 clining, in an easy canvas chair, her eyes travelled 
 over the contents of this bachelor's den with 
 feminine curiosity. It presented an appearance 
 far different from what she had expected ; for Kate 
 was a young lady who shared the tradition of 
 her sex that men were very helpless, not to say 
 barbarous, creatures in all matters connected with 
 a house. Here, however, there was clearly no 
 evidence of a woman's hand, yet the arrangement 
 of everything spoke of an individual of taste, who, 
 though living apart from his fellows, retained his 
 civilized feelings, and liked everything arranged 
 neatly and artistically around him. The room 
 was crowded with hunting trophies and native 
 arms. Lions' and leopards' skins covered the 
 floor, and elephants' tusks, buffalo, antelope, and 
 rhinoceros horns adorned the walls. 
 
 "I see you are looking at my trophies. Miss 
 Kennedy," said Gilmour. "Eather like a museum 
 this, isn't it?" 
 
 " Not at all ! I have been admiring your room 
 very much, and thinking all sorts of flattering 
 things about it." 
 
 '' Delighted to hear it. Won't you tell me 
 what?"
 
 136 ULU. 
 
 *' Certainly not, Mr. Gilmour; though I don't 
 mind going the length of saying," Kate added, 
 laughingly, ** that your room is infinitely better 
 than I expected." 
 
 " I assure you I am deeply flattered." 
 
 ''Did you shoot all these yourself?" Kate 
 asked. 
 
 "Every one. Miss Kennedy." 
 
 **What lots of adventures you must have had. 
 I dare say each ' could a tale unfold '— — " 
 
 " Of plenty of hard work, at least," interrupted 
 Gilmour modestly, dreading a flood of feminine 
 *'gush." Had he known Miss Kennedy better he 
 would have known that she never " gushed." 
 
 ''That must have been a horrid brute;" Kate 
 went on, pointing to the grandly rugged horns of 
 an old bull buffalo, 
 
 "Yes, it was an ugly customer. It nearly killed 
 one of my men before I killed it." 
 
 " Oh, do tell me all about it ! " 
 
 "I am a bad raconteur, Miss Kennedy, I should 
 only mangle my story." 
 
 " Well, I'll let you off this time. But I shall 
 hope to hear some of your stories, whether mangled 
 or not, some day ; " and Kate turned to look at 
 something else, thinking it would be as well to 
 wait until they were better acquainted before 
 pressing her point further.
 
 ULU. 137 
 
 While Mr. Kennedy asked a few questions about 
 Pepo-ni and Gilmour's relations with Seri, his 
 daughter took the opportunity of noting the 
 character of the simple furniture, in the hope of 
 getting a few hints for her own house at Pisgah, 
 otherwise Mkuyu-ni. The rough but comfort- 
 able benches, the boxes covered with leopards' or 
 monkeys' skins, the small collapsible table, etc., 
 etc., were all critically reviewed. 
 
 '' Is your house not too well ventilated at night, 
 Mr. Gilmour ? " she remarked at length, on 
 observing the open lattice-work of the lower parts 
 of the wall. 
 
 *' Oh dear, no ! You see, I have a canvas curtain 
 outside, which I let down at. night or during rainy 
 weather." 
 
 ''What a capital arrangement!" Papa, we 
 must really get our house done this way too. It 
 would be a great improvement." 
 
 "Yes, my dear, if it can be managed." 
 
 " Suppose we go out to the baraza now ? " 
 proposed their host. " It will be pleasanter there. 
 What do you say. Miss Kennedy ? " 
 
 '* Oh, I shall be delighted. I should so much 
 like to see your model settlement again. Come, 
 papa ! " and Kate jumped to her feet and led 
 the way, while Gilmour followed, carrying Miss 
 Kennedy's chair.
 
 138 ULU, 
 
 CHAPTEE XL 
 
 For a few moments after Gilmour and his visitors 
 had comfortably established themselves in the 
 baraza, nothing was said. A delicious languor 
 pervaded everything in the cool shades of Pepo-ni 
 at this hour of noon, and it seemed as if it would 
 only break the poetic charm to utter a single word 
 or make a movement. 
 
 All who have faced the weary march in the 
 glaring sun and oppressive heat of the tropics will 
 understand the Kennedys' feeling of satisfaction 
 in exchanging these for the cool shelter of a com- 
 fortable lounge beneath shady trees, the restful 
 sound of rustling leaves, and splash of cool cascade. 
 
 Mr. Kennedy was the first to break the s]3ell. 
 Taking himself to task for neglecting the object of 
 his visit, he suddenly sat up and drew his chair 
 nearer to Gilmour. 
 
 *' Doubtless you are somewhat surprised to find 
 us so far from Mandara's ? " he said.
 
 ULU. 139 
 
 ''Not at all. I took it for granted you called 
 in to see me on your way somewhere else." 
 
 "You are partly right. I am going to Seri's in 
 connection with my mission work, but I find it 
 necessary to speak with you first." 
 
 ''How? With me?" exclaimed Gilmour in 
 surprise, thinking that Mr. Kennedy wanted to 
 say a " word in season." 
 
 "Excuse me," said the other, with a smile ; " I 
 see you misunderstand me. My object is this. I 
 want very much to establish a station at Seri's." 
 
 "But why come to me? You must go to the 
 chief himself." 
 
 " I have already been to Seri. When we last 
 met, I was on my wa}^ to him." 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 "He referred me to you. He seemed, however, 
 favourably disposed to receive a teacher." 
 
 Gilmour's sole response was an enigmatical 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "I am sure that I may dei3end upon your co- 
 operation in the good work." 
 
 There was an awkward pause before Gilmour 
 replied. He felt greatly annoyed at the turn the 
 conversation was taking. He had come to Kindi 
 to be free of his fellow-countrymen, and he had 
 vowed he would do his utmost to prevent the little 
 state from falling under EurojDean influence other
 
 140 ULU. 
 
 than his own. To missionary enterprise in itself 
 he had no objection ; in some of its aspects he 
 even had a profound admiration for it ; but, then, 
 he said to himself, it only too frequently opened 
 ways to the spread of enterprises of a very doubtful 
 character. 
 
 As these thoughts flashed across his mind, his 
 genial mood suddenly changed, and, to fortify his 
 own feelings, he infused more coolness into his 
 reply than he actually felt. 
 
 " I don't know that I can help you," he said in 
 a hard tone of voice. 
 
 The missionary noticed the change at once ; and 
 Miss Kennedy, who, lazily enjoying the rest and 
 the view, had not paid much attention to the 
 opening of a conversation which promised to run 
 on very ordinary lines, felt there was a hitch 
 somewhere, and turned her head towards Gilmour. 
 
 '' May I ask why ? " asked Mr. Kennedy. 
 
 *' If you don't mind, I'd rather not discuss the 
 question. I have very strong opinions on missions 
 and missionaries, and all the stuff and nonsense 
 about introducing civilization to the African." 
 
 '' Stuff and nonsense ! " repeated the missionary, 
 aghast. "I certainly did not expect to hear a 
 fellow-countryman speak in that manner of the 
 noble efforts of Christian Europe to raise the 
 heathen."
 
 ULU. 141 
 
 '' It seems to me they are much better as 
 they are," repHed Gilmour, forcing himself to be 
 angry. 
 
 There was another pause, painful to all three, 
 but most of all to Kate, who felt as if some un- 
 pleasantness was brewing to disturb the hitherto 
 unalloyed pleasure of the visit to Pepo-ni. 
 
 '' Mr. Gilmour, you surprise me ! " slowly re- 
 sumed Mr. Kennedy. '' Object to the teaching of 
 the Word, and you a Scotchman ! " 
 
 *'Well, 3^ou know," replied the other, with a 
 cynical smile, '* the Scotchman abroad is said to 
 be very different from the Scotchman at home." 
 
 " But you have, doubtless, had a Scottish Chris- 
 tian training, sat under a faithful minister of the 
 gospel, and experienced all the joys and blessings 
 of a Scottish sabbath." 
 
 '* Perhaps that has something to do with my 
 present opinions. You may have too much of a 
 good thing, and be glad to get away from it," was 
 Gilmour's irreverent reply. 
 
 "Mr. Gilmour! Mr. Gilmour!" cried the mis- 
 sionary, in a distressed tone ; ''I am sorry for you. 
 I would not have expected this from any Christian 
 man." 
 
 Gilmour shrugged his shoulders. " Very likely," 
 he said. ** The unexpected usually happens, you 
 know."
 
 142 VLU. 
 
 "But," began Mr. Kennedy, returning once more 
 to the charge, ''tell me why you object to the 
 introduction of civilization and Christianity to the 
 African." 
 
 " Bah, Mr. Kennedy ! I thought your long 
 residence on the coast would have taught you by 
 this time the true meaning of this monstrous 
 shibboleth of the platforms." 
 
 " I confess I don't understand you." 
 
 **Has it never occurred to you," continued 
 Gilmour, *'what the true significance of this cry 
 of the ' opening up of Africa to civilization ' really 
 is?" 
 
 " Why, what could it be but the introduction 
 of all that is best and noblest in European life ? " 
 
 *' Humph ! Do you call old clothes, new diseases, 
 additional vices and drudgery, along with gin, rum, 
 and gunpowder, Europe's best and noblest ?" 
 
 For the moment Mr. Kennedy was overwhelmed 
 by this extraordinary retort. He had never before 
 been called upon to discuss the results for good 
 or evil of European intercourse with the native. 
 
 His daughter, equally surprised, sat up in her 
 chair with wide open eyes. She, like the majority 
 of people, took it for granted that contact with 
 Europeans could only be synonymous with the 
 moral, mental, and material progress of lower 
 races. Now, for the first time, she heard that there
 
 ULU. 143 
 
 was another side to the question, and she looked 
 inquiringly at her father, awaiting his reply. 
 
 ** To our shame, be it said, there is some truth 
 in what you say," began the missionary at length. 
 " But you cannot lay any of these dire results to 
 the door of our missions," 
 
 " I am not so sure of that," replied Gilmour, 
 dropping insensibly into a more argumentative 
 manner. ''Don't the missionaries often pave the 
 way for the pioneers of this so-called civilization ? 
 Don't you frequently break down one set of barriers 
 before setting up an effectual substitute ? " 
 
 " I cannot but admit that tares frequently creep 
 in with the good seed," replied Mr. Kennedy. 
 
 " Yes, to find a soil well adapted to the growth 
 of the tares too," interrupted Gilmore. 
 
 " Still, with the cultivation of that soil, better 
 and better results will be achieved. Even now 
 it cannot be denied that — altering our metaphor 
 — many lost sheep have been gathered into the 
 fold." 
 
 '' It's not much to say that you have gathered so 
 many into what you call the fold, when for every 
 one you gather other agencies of Christendom 
 contrive to send a thousand to — well, some other 
 place." 
 
 Mr. Kennedy was again silenced. He was not 
 accustomed to an antagonist of this description.
 
 144 ULU. 
 
 He felt bound, however, to continue the battle, 
 and did so with such weapons as he had in his 
 armoury. 
 
 " There is a specious appearance of truth in 
 what you say," he resumed; "but I believe that 
 the sacrifices made by the godly will bear fruit in 
 His time." 
 
 " Sacrifices ! " exclaimed Gilmour. '' Where are 
 the sacrifices ? Why, for every pound of money 
 given to save African souls, ten thousand are drawn 
 from their ruin and demoralization." 
 
 "You sadly misunderstand me," replied Mr. 
 Kennedy. " I did not so much allude to money 
 sacrifices as sacrifices of godly lives laid down that 
 the heathen might be saved." 
 
 "Well, I believe it's a saying that the blood of 
 martyrs is the seed of the Church. The Central 
 African ought to be a very flourishing one, indeed, 
 to judge from the number of deaths. Each new 
 member costs the life of a missionary. That's 
 about the rate, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Gilmour, how can you talk like that ? " 
 exclaimed Kate, indignantly, breaking the silence 
 she had hitherto maintained. 
 
 Poor Mr. Kennedy was too utterly shocked at 
 what he deemed Gilmour's profanit}^ to reply. 
 
 " Perhaps I state the matter too baldly. Miss 
 Kennedy," returned Gilmour, addressing Kate, but
 
 ULU. 145 
 
 carefully avoiding looking at her; ''but, you see, 
 in my solitary life I have acquired the habit, seeing 
 I had only myself to consider, of stripping a topic 
 of all circumlocution." 
 
 Gilmour had now contrived to work himself up 
 into an irritable condition, in which he was capable 
 of saying any unpleasant thing, whether he believed 
 it or no. At present he was not expressing his 
 real sentiments, or, at least, he expressed them in a 
 manner not in accordance with his natural good 
 nature. He was angry with himself, with his 
 guests, with everything and everybody. Yet he felt 
 impelled to continue on the course he had started. 
 It was in this spirit that he suddenly turned upon 
 his visitor and said — 
 
 " Come now, Mr. Kennedy, between ourselves, 
 tell me — have you had much encouragement from 
 the results of your twenty years' labour ? Haven't 
 you practically failed ? " 
 
 The moment Gilmour had asked this very direct 
 question, he would have liked to recall it. 
 
 A look of keen pain crossed Mr. Kennedy's face. 
 Time after time that word "failure" had rung in 
 his ears, till he felt in the depths of despair. Daily 
 he had wrestled with it in prayer, seeking to drive 
 it away as a thought inspired by the devil. And 
 now a stranger had divined his secret. 
 
 Miss Kennedy, on seeing how much her father 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 ULU. 
 
 was affected by Gilmour's brutal question, in- 
 dignantly put the latter down as ''a boor." In- 
 stinctively slie drew near her father, and slipped 
 her hand into his, as he sat with bowed head. 
 
 On feeling the sympathetic touch, Mr. Kennedy 
 took heart again, and addressed Gilmour in a 
 manner not wanting in impressiveness, though 
 couched in clerical st^de. 
 
 *' Your method of looking at missionaries and 
 missionary enterprise is a singularly narrow, not 
 to say profane one. From your petty, earthly 
 standpoint, and imbued, I suppose, with what 
 many would call modern thought, which to me 
 seems ivant of thought, you look around and observe 
 nothing but apparent failure. You see an in- 
 finitesimally small amount of good arising from 
 the introduction of Christianity to the heathen, 
 and innumerable gigantic evils following in its 
 train. But who are you who thus criticise the 
 Lord's work ? Your finite capacity can but imper- 
 fectly see what lies immediately around you, while 
 the world and eternity lie beyond. When you can 
 enlarge your vision so as to view the whole in 
 space and time, then I shall be prepared to attach 
 some weight to your profane and un-Christian 
 sentiments. Meanwhile, I thank God that I have 
 faith to believe, though at times doubts will arise, 
 that in apparent failure there are the seeds of a
 
 ULU. 147 
 
 triumphant success. No, Mr. Gilraour ; I will not 
 admit that I have worked in the Lord's vineyard 
 in vain." 
 
 For a moment Gilmour was abashed by the 
 missionary's dignified reply ; then in a forced tone 
 of dogged obstinacy he replied, " It's a fine thing 
 to have a good supply of faitli. It saves one a 
 lot of trouble and heartburning. Unfortunately 
 I have onl}^ my reason and my senses to help 
 me." 
 
 " Then, indeed, I am sorry for j^ou." 
 
 "Thank you very much," Gilmour commenced 
 flippantly, but suddenly stopped, as if he could 
 maintain his forced attitude no longer. " My 
 God ! " he burst out abruptly, " I wish I had some 
 of your faith, or rather, some of my old faith in 
 God and man back again; " and in great agitation 
 he commenced pacing the baraza. 
 
 " There you spoke from the heart," said Kennedy, 
 softened at once in his judgment of Gilmour. " To 
 me that sounds the pleasantest thing you have said 
 to-day." 
 
 Kate was touched to the quick by Gilmour's 
 involuntary exclamation and evident unhappiness. 
 With a woman's intuition she divined that here 
 lay a clue to the mystery which surrounded him. 
 
 "Surely, Mr. Gilmour," she said softl}^ "there 
 is much in civilized life and society that is beautiful,
 
 148 ULU, 
 
 much that is great and noble ? You cannot have 
 lost all faith in these ? " 
 
 Gilmour stoj^ped short in his agitated walk, and 
 stood still in front of Kate. *' Civilized life and 
 society!" he repeated vehemently. "What is it 
 you call civilized life and society ? To me society 
 is the most monstrous fraud and imposture in the 
 ■world — a huge, horrible machine whose sole aim is 
 to grind down everything to its own beastly low 
 level. When you have seen a little more of it you 
 will find that the fittest to survive is not he who is 
 the best, the noblest, and the truest to him.self, 
 but he with the most elastic conscience and the 
 most lax morality. Everything but self-interest 
 must go to the wall. Do you speak to me about 
 what is great and noble and beautiful in con- 
 nection with civilized society ? How little you 
 know what you are talking about ! Let a man be 
 absolutely truthful in everything he says, and he 
 will be hunted from this desirable society of yours 
 like a wild beast, or avoided as if he had the 
 pestilence. Let him be undeviatingly honest and 
 upright in all his dealings, and he will probably 
 die of starvation. That is how the great, the noble, 
 and the beautiful are nourished in this nineteenth- 
 century civilization of ours. Get on in the world, 
 get on in the world ! never mind how, so that you 
 rise. Add to your wealth. Eise in the social scale,
 
 ULU. 149 
 
 though spiritually you be moving towards everlast- 
 ing perdition. Never mind ; your success will be a 
 measure of your applause in this world. If your 
 ideals and aims are different, you had better step 
 aside into some quiet backwater of life. If you don't, 
 3^ou will be whirled along with the torrent, compelled 
 to move with it, or be dashed on the rocks. But 
 what am I talking about ? You cannot understand 
 all this. To 3'ou it must appear the most arrant 
 nonsense. Ah, well ! it will be a good thing for you 
 if you always think so. Better live on Kilimanjaro, 
 smTounded by savages, all your life, than go into 
 the world and get all your bright dreams and illu- 
 sions dissipated, and where you expected paradise 
 find — well, shall we say Tophet ? " And Gilmour, 
 regaining his composure and attempting to resume 
 his cynical manner, sat down on a bench, surprised 
 and a little confused at the torrent of words which 
 had rushed from him. 
 
 A moment of silence followed this unexpected 
 passionate outburst, the sincerity of which there 
 was no doubting. Mr. Kennedy restricted himself 
 to an eloquent gesture, and a look at his daughter 
 which plainly said, " "What can you make of a man 
 like this '? " 
 
 He met no responsive expression in Miss 
 Kennedy's face, however. She sat looking at Mr. 
 Gilmour curiously for a moment, trying to make
 
 150 ULU. 
 
 up her mind what manner of man he was. She 
 was not long in drawing her conclusions. She 
 surmised that some great disappointment was at 
 the bottom of it all, and that he was leading a life 
 quite foreign to his nature and education. She 
 felt certain, also, that he was playing a role to 
 some extent, and trying to make himself believe 
 things which in his heart he could not possibly 
 believe, and to do things which in reality he 
 detested. 
 
 "What a dreamy, romantic fellow he must be ! " 
 she said to herself. "With a lot of the right stuff 
 in him, though, for all that. I wonder now what 
 can have embittered him so ? Some woman, I sup- 
 pose. Ah, jes, depend upon it, Kate, 'there's a 
 woman at the bottom of it ; ' " and the young lady 
 sighed pensively as she reached this sapient con- 
 clusion, as if she had a large experience of young 
 men's love troubles to draw from. 
 
 Gilmour, meanwhile, was feeling heartily ashamed 
 of himself, but at the same time did not see his 
 way to an apology. The silence was growing 
 painful. Nobody seemed to know what to say next. 
 
 "Will you stay to tiffin?" (lunch) Gilmour at 
 length asked abruptly, making a determined plunge 
 into conversation. "Or, if you could make it con- 
 venient to stay all night," he went on hesitatingly, 
 " I should be very pleased."
 
 ULU. 151 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Gilmour ; I'm afraid we can 
 scarcely do that. '' PajDa would like to get home 
 this afternoon, I think. Wouldn't you, papa?" 
 
 ''Yes, my dear, I think so. Our pexDple would 
 Avonder if we did not reach home to-night. We 
 shall he very happy to take tiffin with you, how- 
 ever." 
 
 *' In that case we had better have our refresh- 
 ment at once. You don't mind lunching in the 
 baraza, do you ? It's so much cooler." 
 
 ''Of course not. It's much nicer here than 
 indoors ; " and Kate settled herself back in her 
 chair with an air which seemed to say she found 
 her present surroundings very much to her mind. 
 
 In answer to Gilmour's signal, Tubu and a couple 
 of assistants, all neatly dressed in snow-white 
 kanzus, crimson waist-bands, and Zanzibar kofias 
 (linen skull-caps), appeared, bringing with them 
 the table, which was soon covered with all the 
 customary accessories of lunch, even in Central 
 Africa. 
 
 " I need hardly apologize for my w^are," said 
 Gilmour, as they gathered with some difficulty 
 round the small table, and he indicated with a nod 
 the enamelled iron plates and dishes. 
 
 " Oh, please don't mention it," exclaimed Kate. 
 " It's what we have all to become accustomed to 
 in this benighted country. I would be grateful if
 
 152 ULU. 
 
 it was no worse. Just think of it ! We iiave 
 positively been compelled to use some of the Chaga 
 wooden bowls." 
 
 "Indeed, how is that?" asked Gilmour ^jm- 
 pathetically. 
 
 '' We got the greater part of our enamels stolen 
 by a pretended convert, who proved to be a thief." 
 
 " How very annoying ! I think I shall be able 
 to help you, though. Tubu, turn out some of my 
 spare plates." 
 
 "You mustn't think of it," cried Kate, divining 
 her host's intention. " I can't allow you to 
 deprive yourself for us." 
 
 Mr. Kennedy joined in the protest. 
 
 " Nonsense ! I insist," replied Gilmour, wilfully. 
 " I have far more than I need, and there's no 
 possibility of loss from breakage, you know." 
 
 Kate gave way reluctantly, looking, however, 
 grateful and pleased. "You are really too good," 
 she said. " How can we ever thank you suffi- 
 ciently ? " 
 
 "You will best thank me by saying nothing 
 about it. Help one another is the grand rule of 
 conduct for Central Africa, it seems to me." 
 
 This little incident did wonders in removing any 
 traces of awkwardness or arriere pensee after the 
 late conversation, and, dangerous topics being 
 avoided, they were soon once more on the best of
 
 ULU. 153 
 
 terms. A light lunch, or tiffin, as it is the universal 
 fashion to call the midday meal in the East, of 
 cold fowl and ship's biscuits, banana fritters, and 
 plenty of milk, formed an agreeable repast, made 
 all the more enjoyable by a further exchange of 
 news about home, and by the interchange of various 
 '' wrinkles " in domestic economy, as to how to 
 make the most of things in the position in which 
 they were placed. 
 
 The eager interest shown by Gilmour in hearing 
 all about the old life was in striking contrast to the 
 contempt and bile which he had just been pouring 
 upon it. Kate in a faint sort of way remarked the 
 change, but, happy that good relations had once 
 more been established, she was not in a mood to 
 be too critical. She ate her cold fowl with a 
 healthy appetite, and joined eagerly in the conver- 
 sation when it turned upon Europe, otherwise only 
 making an occasional remark, and more largely 
 busying herself with speculations about Gilmour, 
 or in noting the manifold beauties of her charming 
 smTOundings. 
 
 Curious and piquant, indeed, was the scene. 
 Three Europeans at a table, as a central feature, 
 attended by picturesquely dressed negroes in snow- 
 white garments, groups of Zanzibar men, women, 
 and children in various attitudes at a respectful 
 distance under the shade of trees; the rustic houses,
 
 151 ULU. 
 
 and still more rustic, though cosy, huts nestling 
 among leafy bush and palms ; the view through 
 the . Oldening in the grove over the forest-clad valley 
 to the faintly outlined mountains of Sogonoi ; to 
 the north the '' Mount Olympus of these parts," 
 rising by sunny rounded ridge and tree-clad hollow 
 to the arborescent heather zone, and the region of 
 death and desolation, ending in the ineffable 
 serenity, repose, and majesty of the snow-clad 
 Kibo.
 
 ULU. 155 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 *' Well, I think it's time we were going," re- 
 marked Mr. Kennedy, rising and pushing back 
 his chair. 
 
 Gilmour rose also. '' Yes, I dare say it is," he 
 said, " unless you think better of it and stay here 
 for the night. Oh, but I say ! " he exclaimed, as, 
 leaving the baraza, he looked at the sky, '* I'm 
 afraid you can't go now. Just look there ! " and 
 he pointed towards the south, where a great bank 
 of dark blue clouds was slowly gathering. 
 
 The weather, indeed, had changed in a most 
 ominous fashion while they sat at lunch. The 
 breeze had died away, the leaves of the trees and 
 bushes hung droopingly, and the birds and monkeys 
 ceased to chatter and scream. Above, the stream, 
 from the unusual silence, seemed to rush more 
 noisily over its rocky bed. The atmosphere felt 
 close and oppressive. Over the sky a dark haze 
 had gathered, through which the sun shone yellow
 
 156 ULU. 
 
 and lurid. Everything portended a tropical storm 
 of unusual violence. 
 
 " How very unfortunate," cried Mr. Kennedy, 
 with a look of vexation, as, following Gilmour's 
 example, he left the baraza and turned his gaze 
 towards the southern sky. '' It certainly looks bad." 
 
 Kate said nothing, but felt rather pleased than 
 otherwise at the pros^Dect of having to pass the 
 evening and night at Pepo-ni. It would be a 
 pleasing variation in the usual monotony of her 
 life. 
 
 ''Perhaps it will pass over quickly," suggested 
 Kennedy, anxious to go, more especially as he still 
 felt somewhat sore after his recent encounter with 
 Gilmour, as well as disappointed at the failure of 
 his mission. 
 
 " It will be wiser for you to stay, Mr. Kennedy," 
 said Gilmour. " I can easily swing a hammock 
 for you, and there is a camp-bed for Miss Kennedy." 
 
 " Besides, papa," added Kate, '' Tanga can't 
 possibly walk downhill on the stiff, clayey path- 
 ways. They will be too slippery after the rain." 
 
 *'And then," continued Gilmour, "think what a 
 ducking Miss Kennedy would get pushing her way 
 through the wet foliage. You might just as well 
 face the storm itself. Come, now, you must stay 
 with me to-night." 
 
 *' I suppose you are right," said the missionary,
 
 ULU. 157 
 
 reluctantly. ''We shall accept your hospitality 
 thankfully, Mr. Gilmour." 
 
 '* That's right," cried Gilmour. '' I am delighted 
 at your decision. Perhaps," he added mis- 
 chievously, " we may he ahle to discuss some of 
 these questions we left unsettled." 
 
 *' Oh dear, no ; not that," exclaimed Kate in 
 alarm. " I should prefer the ducking. Promise 
 not to come near the suhject, Mr. Gilmour, or I 
 order out Tanga at once." 
 
 " I am penetrated with the most peaceful senti- 
 ments, I assure you," said Gilmour, gallantly. 
 ''"We'd better get indoors, though," he added 
 hurriedly, as a large drop fell on his hand. " It 
 won't do to be caught out here." 
 
 The storm was, indeed, on the point of bursting. 
 The great bank of clouds which had gathered in 
 the south had rapidly enlarged its dimensions, and 
 deepened into a more portentous colour. Towards 
 its upper aspect it rolled and unrolled in rounded 
 billows, to break here and there into ragged 
 fragments, as if torn to pieces by a whirlwind. 
 The strangest appearance of all, however, was the 
 gradual uprising of a great slaty-blue arch which 
 rested on the ends of the cloud, and rapidly moved 
 forward and upward like a line of skirmishers in 
 advance of an army. This arch, with its concavity 
 occui)ied by the great mass of the storm-cloud,
 
 If) 8 VLU. 
 
 swept onwards till it hung directly over the heads 
 of Gilmour and his guests. There was a sudden 
 chilling of the air. A puff of cold wind lifted the 
 loose hair that hung about Kate's temples, making 
 her shiver after the stifling heat of the last few 
 minutes. A second, then a third puff followed, 
 each one stronger and more continuous than the 
 preceding. One or two heavy drops of rain fell. 
 Gilmour and his visitors had just time to run into 
 the house, when, without further warning, a vivid 
 flash of lightning shot athwart the gathering 
 gloom. A few seconds of death-like stillness 
 ensued, and then a terrific peal of thunder broke 
 over Pepo-ni. Simultaneously the slaty-blue arch 
 disa23peared, apparently dissipated by the explosion. 
 The dark blue of the main mass as quickl}^ changed 
 into a light sooty colour. The wind rose in cold, 
 gusty blasts, and the rain fell in '' bucketfuls." 
 Then the storm raged in all its fury. 
 
 The canvas curtain within Gilmour's house was 
 at once let down to exclude the rain and the chilly 
 wind. Amid the continuous and deafening thunder- 
 peals it was impossible to make one's self heard, 
 and conversation was strictly confined to occasional 
 remarks regarding the progress of the storm, the 
 vividness of the lightning, and the rush of the 
 falling rain. 
 
 Tropical storms, however, are usually of short
 
 ULU. 159 
 
 duration. The present one was no excej^tion to 
 the rule. In little more than half an hour the 
 thunderclouds had rolled past in their awe-inspiring 
 career, to waste their fury on the heights of Kibo 
 and Kimawenzi. Towards the south the sky dis- 
 played afresh its depths of blue. The afternoon 
 sun shone with renewed brilliancy through the 
 purified atmosphere, glinting on the mj-riad drops 
 of moisture which begemmed every green leaf and 
 blade of grass. 
 
 It was, of course, far too wet for Gilmour and his 
 guests to venture out. The altered atmospheric 
 conditions, however, were reflected in themselves, 
 and the conversation, under the skilful leadership 
 of Kate, avoided dangerous topics and kept the 
 cheerful tone of the luncheon table. 
 
 Miss Kennedy's conversation was an agreeable 
 surprise to Gilmour. Though distinguished by a 
 certain masculine force and decision, it did not at 
 all accord with his stereotyped idea of the " lady- 
 medical and blue-stocking " manner of speech. 
 Gilmour talked to Kate on the same easy terms as 
 he might to another man, but mingled with this 
 delightful ease was the piquant knowledge that 
 this other was, after all, a woman — a very charm- 
 ing woman too, sparkling with all sorts of pretty 
 little graceful feminine traits. 
 
 Gilmour and his guests were in the midst of a
 
 160 ULU. 
 
 pleasant chat, when they were suddenly interrupted 
 by the unexpected and unannounced appearance of 
 Ulu. Shining with her newly applied coating of 
 oil, and as eager to show off her improved looks as 
 an English girl might have been to display a new 
 dress, the little maid came running in, all life and 
 animation. 
 
 " Look, Bwan' mkubwa," she commenced. Then 
 her eyes fell on Kate, and she stopped short, struck 
 dumb by sudden wonderment. In her attitude 
 of suddenly arrested motion, one shapely limb 
 well in advance of the other, her dark bronze- 
 coloured head with its crop of crisp black curls 
 slightly turned to one side, and her whole expression 
 one of the deepest wonder, the girl looked a subject 
 worthy of any sculptor's chisel. The pose brought 
 out admirably the gracious lines of her figure, and 
 permitted her snowy draperies to fall into folds of 
 artistic grace and softness. 
 
 '*What a lovely child!" cried Kate, enthu- 
 siastically. "Who is she, Mr. Gilmour ? Where 
 does she come from ? Is she the daughter of one 
 of your men ? " 
 
 "Oh," began Gilmour, frankly, "that is Ulu, 
 my int — my— that is to say, she is a — yes, as you 
 
 say, she is the — no, I mean Well, she is an 
 
 M-Chaga girl, I believe, staying with the wife of my 
 headman," he concluded hastily, suddenly grown shy
 
 ULU. 161 
 
 of revealing his romantic intentions regarding his 
 protegee, and hurriedly catching at the first feasible 
 explanation of her presence that came to hand. 
 
 Mr. Kennedy looked up sharply, struck by the 
 hesitating, incoherent answer to his daughter's 
 very natural question. He was only too well 
 aware of the free relations which existed between 
 many white traders and the natives ; and as he 
 glanced from Gilmour to Ulu, noted the white 
 man's embarrassment and the girl's dress and 
 appearance, he was not slow to conclude the worst. 
 Not daring to speak before his daughter, he tried 
 to look unconscious of there being anything wrong, 
 and discreetly held his peace. 
 
 An awkward pause ensued. Kate noticed with 
 surprise Gilmour's confusion and her father's 
 silence and evident vexation. She looked again at 
 Ulu. Something crossed her mind which made 
 her perceptibly start, and she turned a quick, 
 searching glance on the two men beside her. For 
 a few moments her colour came and went, her 
 thoughts scarcely daring to shape themselves 
 towards the conclusion that was swiftly growing in 
 her mind. Suddenly she sprang from her chair. 
 As she half turned towards the door, she met the 
 inquiring gaze of Ulu, who still stood in wonder- 
 ment on the threshold. The sight of the little 
 maid changed her purpose. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 ULU. 
 
 " My poor child ! " she exclaimed, making a stej) 
 towards her. 
 
 Startled and afraid, Ulu drew back, and with a 
 little cry sought refuge by Gilmour's side. Then 
 Kate's indignation flamed out afresh, and her face 
 grew white and cold and hard. 
 
 The modern, well-bred, experienced young lady 
 would have known better how to control her 
 emotions under the circumstances — would, in all 
 likelihood', have accepted the situation with a 
 deprecating, downward glance, and a becoming 
 little French shrug of the shoulders. But Kate 
 was not an '* experienced " young lady, nor had 
 she been trained in the school of artificiality which 
 condones vice by professing to ignore it. Eeared 
 in almost academic seclusion, this "sweet girl- 
 graduate " had indeed seen very little of life ; but 
 she had heard far-off echoes of its ways, and she 
 had not made herself acquainted with the literature 
 of her own and other countries without acquiring 
 a certain knowledge of the good and evil in the 
 world. Generous and high-souled to a degree, and 
 exacting towards herself in all matters of duty, she 
 had but little toleration for the faults and frailties 
 of others morally weaker or more strongly tempted. 
 She was quick to judge — too quick, perhaps — and 
 quick to pass sentence ; and now Gilmour stood 
 condemned before her, a sinner, without a word of
 
 TJLU. 163 
 
 excuse. StraDgely mingled \Yith the scorn and 
 anger she felt for liim was a dull sense of pain and 
 disappointment. She had been terribly mistaken, 
 cruelly deceived, in one she had begun to feel 
 interested in and was inclined to think well of. It 
 did not occur to her that possibly the fault lay in 
 the condemnation, and not in the culprit. His 
 suddenly embarrassed manner, his hesitating reply 
 to her simple question, his present silence, all spoke 
 only too eloquently of conscious guilt ; and Kate — 
 what could she do but condemn ? 
 
 Yes, Gilmour was silent. Urged on by the 
 demon of contradiction which possessed him, he 
 sat coolly survejdng his guests with an assumed 
 air of callous indifference. But within, what wrath 
 there was ! Long before Kate had reached her too 
 hasty conclusion, Gilmour had seen the thoughts 
 which were passing in her own and her father's 
 mind — seen, and with the whole strength of his 
 nature resented them. His soul raged in a tumult 
 of angry questions. What were the missionary 
 and his prudish daughter to him ? What right 
 had they to criticize his conduct, putting the worst 
 possible construction on it too, condemning it 
 before they knew if there was reason ? If they 
 could think him capable of being guilty, they 
 might. Under which angry impulse, Gilmour 
 ostentatiously took Ulu on his knee, and began
 
 164 ULU. 
 
 toying with her crisp curls and the beads on her 
 neck, exhibiting, in this little bit of by-play, an 
 amount of histrionic power he had never before 
 given himself credit for. 
 
 Kate beheld the scene with ever-rising wrath. 
 This flaunting display of tenderness was insult 
 added to injury, and all the outraged woman within 
 her rose in desperate yearning to snatch the uncon- 
 scious victim from the monster's toils. '' In her 
 it is ignorance; in him, vice," was her indignant 
 mental comment. '^ Yet this is the man who rails 
 so vehemently against the introduction of European 
 wickedness, and cries out in protest against social 
 shams ! " 
 
 But while she thus thought and raged, Kate 
 neither spoke nor moved. She was paralyzed, 
 spellbound. At length, with an effort, she walked 
 swiftly to the door and looked out. 
 
 ^' Papa," she said, in a cold, passionless voice, 
 '' I think, after all, it might be as well to go on. I 
 should think the paths will be dry enough after 
 such a hot sun." 
 
 ''Very well, Kate; I am quite ready," exclaimed 
 Mr. Kennedy with animation, heartily glad to 
 catch at any means of escape from the j)ainful 
 situation. 
 
 Gilmour took no notice of this proposal, but 
 sat with heightened colour and compressed lips,
 
 ULU. 165 
 
 as if determined to offer neither explanation nor 
 excuse. 
 
 " Mr. Gilmour,'* continued Kennedy, rising, *' I 
 think, after all, we had better go on to Mandara's 
 this afternoon. It was very kind of you to ask 
 
 us to stay, but " Mr. Kennedy hesitated. He 
 
 had not thought how he was to account for his 
 sudden change of j)lans. Gilmour was determined 
 not to help him. With grim satisfaction at the 
 missionary's discomfiture, he awaited the conclusion 
 of the sentence. " Kate would like to get home," 
 was Mr. Kennedy's rather weak explanation. 
 
 "Indeed?" was the sarcastic response. ** I 
 thought she seemed rather pleased at the idea of 
 passing the night here. I am sorry she has 
 changed her mind, but, of course, you will consult 
 your own convenience." 
 
 Outwardly calm and indifferent, Gilmour was 
 within a perfect volcano of conflicting emotions. 
 He was angry with the Kennedys for what he 
 characterized as their want of discrimination, 
 angry with himself for wilfully misleading them. 
 It was too bad, he told himself, to be thus mis- 
 understood, when he was just beginning to get over 
 his despondency a little, and take a more hopeful 
 and pleasant view of things ; but it was also too 
 bad his acting in such a way as almost to justify 
 his guests' worst suspicions. As he leaned against
 
 166 ULU. 
 
 the wall of the hut, and w-atched Kate with 
 tremblmg hands adjustmg her hat, preparatory 
 to taking leave, he was torn between the impulse 
 to explain everything and his obstinate resolve to 
 explain nothing. He did not dare to meet Kate's 
 eyes, which rested on him for a moment, as he 
 stood with his hands on Ulu's shoulders, lest their 
 mingled sorrow and anger should prove too much 
 for the flimsy defences of pride and obstinacy 
 behind which he had entrenched himself. Defiantly, 
 and, as if anxious still further to scandalize the 
 missionary and his daughter, he began — 
 
 **My little girl and I will " then stopped 
 
 abruptly, as if he had been about to do something 
 cowardly and ungentlemanly. 
 
 Kate was now drawing on her riding-gloves. At 
 Gilmour's words she looked up at him with re- 
 proachful, tear-filled eyes. Gilmour caught the 
 glance. In a moment all his angry perversity was 
 swept away. 
 
 " If you wait a moment I will explain," he said, 
 quite gently and quietly, as if in answer to some 
 unspoken question. " Oh, you needn't be afraid 
 to hear what I have to say," he added, with a 
 slight accent of contempt, as he met the look of 
 alarm with which the missionary greeted his first 
 words. 
 
 An expression of relief had settled on Kate's face
 
 ULU. 167 
 
 as soon as Gilmour began to speak. She knew at 
 once that there had been some mistake. 
 
 " Oh, never mind any explanations," she cried 
 impulsively. ''It's all right if you only tell us 
 so." 
 
 " Your father does not think so ; " and Gilmour 
 looked significantly towards Mr. Kennedy, who 
 stood viewing the pair with a very dubious expres- 
 sion of countenance. 
 
 "Oh yes, indeed, Mr. Gilmour " the mis- 
 sionary began, with an affectation of fervour. 
 
 But Gilmour cut him short. " Ulu is a little 
 protegee of mine," he went on. 
 
 At the word protegee, Mr. Kennedy looked more 
 dubious than ever, and involuntarily shook his 
 head. 
 
 The gesture was not lost upon Gilmour, who 
 stopped abruptly, the old impulse to let the 
 missionary think his worst rising angrily within 
 him. ''I see you don't believe me," he continued 
 hotly, and then again stopped short. 
 
 "Oh, papa, how can you ! " broke in Kate, re- 
 proachfully. " Never mind the rest, Mr. Gilmour ; 
 I believe you utterly. Forgive me for ever having 
 doubted you ; " and Kate's eyes filled with tears as 
 she seized Gilmour impulsively by the hand, and 
 looked appealingly up into his face. 
 
 There was a responsive tremour in Gilmour's
 
 168 ULU. 
 
 voice as he gravely thanked Miss Kennedy for 
 her expression of unqualified trust, which Kate 
 observing, she turned hurriedly away, and laid 
 hold of Ulu, whom she kissed enthusiastically, 
 heedless of the fact of that young damsel's recent 
 lubrication. 
 
 Mr. Kennedy did not know what to think. The 
 ways of the nineteenth-century maiden were a 
 mystery to him, and he could not make up his 
 mind whether to be pleased or shocked at his 
 daughter's ingenuous impetuosity. Under the in- 
 fluence of her infectious enthusiasm he felt his 
 scepticism rapidly giving way, and he was strongly 
 inclined to follow her example in taking Gilmour 
 by the hand. But what he would have called his 
 *' common sense " coming to the rescue, he remem- 
 bered how often before he had been deceived by 
 specious appearances, and remained irresolute. 
 
 Gilmour had a pretty shrewd notion of what 
 was passing in Kennedy's mind, but he no longer 
 resented that gentleman's cautious reserve, and 
 determined to bring the misunderstanding at once 
 to an end. 
 
 '' Ulu is the daughter of Seri," he said. '' She 
 is here with her father's consent, and, indeed, by 
 his request. I have formed the romantic project 
 of developing what of good there may be in her, 
 with the intention of one day making her my wife."
 
 ULU. 169 
 
 Kate looked up in amused wonder ; the doubt on 
 her father's face deepened into incredulity. 
 
 *' You think the idea ridiculous, Miss Kennedy," 
 Gilmour went on, addressing himself to Kate, as 
 evidently the more sympathetic part of his audience. 
 " I can hardly wonder at it ; it appears sufficiently 
 absurd to myself sometimes. I have had many a 
 good laugh over it. But I never intend leaving 
 Kilimanjaro again, and there is a strong fascination 
 for me in the notion of a companion in exile. One 
 grows tired of being always ' Bwan' mkubwa,' you 
 know ; " and Gilmour sighed, as he looked at Ulu, 
 and thought what a long time it might be before 
 he could be anything else. 
 
 " But how did it come about, Mr. Gilmour ? " 
 said Kate. ''Do sit down and tell us all about it. 
 'Dog of an unbehever ! ' " she continued melo- 
 dramatically, turning towards her father, and 
 addressing him in that teasing, coaxing tone he 
 never could withstand, '' come here and be con- 
 verted;" and she dragged forward a chair, and 
 gently pushed him into it, with a kiss that spoke 
 volumes of the affection and good understanding 
 that existed between the two. Then she sat down 
 herself, and prepared to listen ; while Ulu curled 
 up at her feet, and became absorbed in an 
 examination of Kate's dress that was largely 
 mingled with the desire to see her put it on.
 
 170 ULU, 
 
 As Gilmour proceeded with his narrative, and 
 waxed eloquent over his plans for the discovery 
 and development of Ulu's better nature, Kate 
 became warmly interested, and before he had done 
 was quite in love with them. She was all eager to 
 be allowed to help, and at once began to make 
 suggestions and think out details with a fine, 
 feminine celerity that amused Gilmour almost as 
 much as it delighted him. 
 
 Mr. Kennedy, with less of the enthusiasm of 
 youth about him, shook his head deprecatingly 
 over the scheme, but could not, as a missionary, 
 urge any suitable arguments against it. 
 
 " Of course, you will instil into her the elements 
 of the Christian religion ? " he said. 
 
 This was an idea which, I am sorry to say, had 
 not occurred to either of Ulu's would-be benefactors, 
 who looked at each other feeling rather guilty, 
 neither knowing exactly what to say. 
 
 "Oh, papa," at length exclaimed Kate, "that 
 will come afterwards, you know." 
 
 " It should come first," replied her father, 
 solemnly. " The only light which can truly 
 illumine a darkened soul is that which comes from 
 the Word of God." 
 
 Kate did not feel convinced ; but she wisely re- 
 frained from arguing the point, knowing from past 
 experience how impossible it was for her father.
 
 VLU. 171 
 
 where religion was concerned, to view things from 
 any other than the strictly orthodox standpoint. 
 Gilmour, too, was silent, unwilling to disturb the 
 harmony that seemed once more about to prevail 
 between him and his guests ; while Mr. Kennedy, 
 feeling that he had done his duty in entering his 
 protest against Gilmour's method, and mistaking 
 the silence of politeness for the silence of unwilling 
 conviction, believed he had made an impression, 
 and was inclined to think more favourably of the 
 Quixotic young man, who in sober earnest contem- 
 plated passing through life with a negress for his 
 most intimate companion. 
 
 How often prejudice and self-conceit lead wiser 
 men than Mr. Kennedy to form equally flattering 
 conclusions regarding their powers of argument? 
 Perhaps it is a wise arrangement of Providence, to 
 keep society from falling to pieces through intestine 
 wars.
 
 172 ULU. 
 
 CHAPTEK XIII. 
 
 '' Have a cigar ? " said Mr. Kennedy to Gilmour, 
 as after dinner they all lounged out-of-doors under 
 the shady eaves of the baraza. 
 
 " Thank you, I don't smoke." 
 
 " Don't smoke ! " repeated Mr. Kennedy in 
 astonishment. 
 
 ''Don't smoke ! " echoed Kate. ''A nineteenth- 
 century hermit without a pipe is an anomaly. 
 Don't you even indulge in an occasional cigarette ? " 
 
 '* Not even an occasional cigarette." 
 
 "Then I can't have the pleasure of making you 
 one. Dodo, my cousin, used to say I was * quite a 
 dab ' at that sort of thing. I filled his case for 
 him every morning before he went to college." 
 
 ''Kate, my dear child," exclaimed Mr. Kennedy, 
 " what a very unfeminine accomplishment ! " 
 
 " How, papa ? Cigarette-making is nearly all 
 done by girls. It's one of the few employments of 
 women men don't seem to dispute their right to.
 
 ULU. 173 
 
 As usual, they reserve to themselves the merely 
 pleasant part of the business — the luxury of 
 smoking them." 
 
 " Then you didn't learn that, too ? " inquired 
 Gilmour, mischievousl3\ 
 
 '' Oh no, Mr. Gilmour. I was never at a board- 
 ing-school, you know." 
 
 ''I didn't know, but I thought as much. You 
 are too difficult to classify." 
 
 ''How? Difficult to classify? What do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 A twinkle rose in Mr. Kennedy's eyes. ''Mr. 
 Gilmour," he said, "you have made a fatal mis- 
 take. Kate is an enfant terrible when she starts to 
 ask questions. You may take the responsibilit}" of 
 dealing with her upon yourself; I'm off. I should 
 like to have a talk with your men," he explained, 
 rising and knocking the ash from the end of his 
 cigar. Then, remembering the argument of the 
 morning, he added doubtfully, " There is no objec- 
 tion, I suppose?" 
 
 "None whatever," replied Gilmour, with an 
 alacrity scarcely to have been looked for from the 
 advocate of the principle of laissez /aire in negro 
 politics and religion. 
 
 In point of fact, he felt Mr. Kennedy's presence 
 rather a restraint, and he was not sorry to have an 
 excuse for being rid of it. He was glad of the
 
 174 ULU. 
 
 opportunity of a tete-a-tete with Kate too. He 
 liked the girl's frank, unconventional waj^s, her 
 directness, her eagerness and refreshing enthu- 
 siasm. He liked to watch her face, with its 
 constant change of expression, its quick prophecy 
 of a coming thought, its lingering reflection of 
 passing lights and shadows. He liked to hear her 
 voice, clear and fresh as a bird's, and changing, 
 like her face, with every changing mood. He felt 
 there was something about her that he had missed 
 in other women — something companionable, some- 
 thing which, at least as far as she herself was 
 concerned, almost justified her in her resentment 
 towards men for their calm assumption of supe- 
 riority. Yet there was nothing masculine about 
 her ; no pretence to " strong-mindedness ; " no trace 
 of the pedantry commonly associated with women 
 whose thoughts tend towards the learned profes- 
 sions. Gilmour's phrase, '' difficult to classify," 
 exactly expressed his impression of her, as it also 
 indicated the attitude of scientific inquir}^ in which 
 he felt inclined to approach her. To him, Kate 
 was a new species, to be studied with interest, as 
 a creature of unknown characteristics and possi- 
 bilities of development. He could not altogether 
 free his mind of the suspicion that the cloven hoof 
 of blue-stockingism would one day show itself — he 
 was curious to know how and when.
 
 ULU. 175 
 
 Spite of the missionary's warning, Gilmour 
 would not have felt sorry had Miss Kennedy in- 
 sisted on an answer to her question, or evinced a 
 desire to ask more. But for the moment Kate 
 seemed to have become oblivious of his presence, 
 and sat affectionately gazing after her father, as 
 he crossed the compound to where a group of 
 white-robed Zanzibaris lounged in lazy enjoyment 
 of the evening coolness. 
 
 '* The dear old pater ! " she said, half to herself, 
 *' he should always smoke. It has a humanizing 
 influence. He can't preach with a pipe in his 
 mouth. I know you don't like my father," she 
 added, suddenly turning towards Gilmom-, and 
 addressing him in her quick, straightforward way ; 
 ** but you would, if you knew him better." 
 
 Gilmour was rather taken aback. ^'I assure 
 you, Miss Kennedy," he began. 
 
 '*0h, don't sacrifice truth to politeness on my 
 account," interrupted Kate. '' I know well enough 
 you think him narrow, and prejudiced, and sanc- 
 timonious, and a great many other disagreeable 
 things. You are wrong. You confound the mis- 
 sionary with the man. Just look at him there 
 among your men. Now, Mr. Gilmour, even if you 
 don't sympathize with papa's efforts, you cannot 
 but admire his earnestness and patience. Where 
 you would swear, he explains; where you would
 
 176 VLU. 
 
 punish, he persuades. It is quite touching to see 
 how all the mission people love him. They cannot 
 understand his teaching, I am sure ; but they do 
 appreciate his goodness and true-heartedness. 
 You must come to Pisgah and be converted." 
 
 " I shall be very pleased to come to Pisgah, but 
 I don't know about the conversion," said Gilmour, 
 doubtfully. " Why should you care about it, 
 though?" he added, as he saw the shade of dis- 
 appointment on Kate's face. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," answered Kate ; " but I 
 somehow feel as if we should be friends, and I like 
 all my friends to like each other. Poor papa ! " she 
 went on. ''What a lonely, friendless life he has 
 had ! Twenty-three years of exile almost without 
 a break, and nothing to think of all that time but 
 Africa and African missions ; " and Kate sighed, as 
 she pictured to herself the isolation and monotony 
 of her father's life at Tanga, his old station, and 
 mentally contrasted it with her own pleasant, 
 cheerful surroundings in Edinburgh, where almost 
 ever since the untimely death of her mother in the 
 mission-field she had known all the best blessings 
 of an ideal home life in the family of a loving and 
 much-loved uncle. 
 
 For a minute or two she sat lost in thought. 
 Kate never could think of Europe without becoming 
 lost in thought.
 
 ULU. 177 
 
 ''"What a lovely eveniug ! " she exclaimed at 
 length, rousing herself from her reverie, and grow- 
 ing suddenly alive to the beauty of the scene before 
 her. *' Did you ever see such a gorgeous sunset ? " 
 and she noted with all the appreciation of an 
 artist the glowing hues of the western sky, and 
 gave herself up to the enjoyment of the hour. 
 
 It was, indeed, a lovely evening. The most 
 charming part of the African day had come. The 
 sun had just gone down in a si)lendour of purple 
 and crimson, and from behind the conical peak of 
 Mount Meru a thousand shafts of golden light shot 
 upwards to the zenith, and quivered about the 
 hoary mountain-top like an aureole about the head 
 of a saint. In the dim, delicious twilight — 
 delicious in a way none but the dweller in tropical 
 climes can know — nature seemed to taste anew the 
 joys of awakened life. Fanned by the evening 
 breeze, the leaves no longer drooped despondingly, 
 and flowers held up their dainty heads and shed 
 sweet incense of thanksgiving on the balmy air. 
 From every grove and thicket rose the glad even- 
 song of birds, in joyous trill or merry chirp and 
 twitter. In the trees overhead the monkeys leaped 
 from branch to branch, screaming and barking as 
 they chased each other in mischievous frolic. By 
 the aid of a glass Kate could see the antelopes 
 frisking in the open glades of the Kahe forest, the 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 ULU. 
 
 great black buffaloes venturing to the edge of the 
 dense bush, and a solitary rhinoceros cropping 
 the herbage at no great distance. A group of 
 queer, ungainly-looking objects, whose movements 
 could only just be descried among the trees, were 
 explained by Gilmour to be giraffes. These being 
 the first she had seen, Kate was much interested ; 
 but before she had time to steady the glass for 
 another look, her attention was diverted from the 
 valley by a strange, swishing sound overhead. 
 Looking up, she descried three or four enormous 
 birds coming from the west. Arrived over Pepo-ni, 
 they commenced to descend, wheeling in ever- 
 lessening circles, till at length, with a final '' swish," 
 they alighted on a neighbouring tree, and revealed 
 the comically grave aspect of the marabout stork. 
 
 *' Behold Hhe Graves of a Household,' Miss 
 Kennedy," remarked Gilmour, indicating the new 
 arrivals with a melodramatic wave of the hand 
 worthy of the proprietor of a waxwork. 
 
 " ' Graves of a Household ' ? " repeated Kate, 
 inquiringly. " What do you mean ? " 
 
 '• Why, didn't you know that the marabouts are 
 not only the scavengers, but the gravediggers and 
 graves of the Masai? Shouldn't wonder if our 
 friends there had been doing a little in the under- 
 taking line to-day; they look fairly well pleased 
 with themselves.''
 
 ULU. 179 
 
 Kate looked very mucli disgusted. '" Why don't 
 you shoot such horrid ghouls ? " she asked. 
 
 *' Oh, I wouldn't do that. They are very useful 
 in their way. Besides, I like to keep everything 
 characteristic of the country just as it is." 
 
 "Is that why j'ou retain such a strange name 
 for your camp ? • Pepo-ni ' means ' Ghost-land,' 
 doesn't it ? " 
 
 ''Yes ; and it really is a place of ghosts — at least, 
 according to the native superstition." 
 
 "Eeally!" exclaimed Kate with interest. ''Is 
 it supposed to he haunted ? " 
 
 " Yes. Pepo-ni was an old Wa-Chaga burying- 
 ground, and, as you know, the natives believe that 
 the spirits of dead men haunt the places where 
 their bodies have been buried." 
 
 " Then I suppose they go in for ancestor- 
 worship ? " 
 
 " After a fashion — yes. African ghosts are sup- 
 posed to be very powerful and, as a rule, very 
 malignant creatures ; consequently they are much 
 respected. The natives toady to them in all kinds 
 of ways, so as to secure their favour or avert their 
 wrath. Especially are they careful not to dis- 
 turb the sanctity of their special haunts, ghosts 
 being rather particular as regards mixing in carnal 
 society. That is why Wa-Chaga bmying-places are 
 invariably a perfect jungle of trees and creepers."
 
 180 ULU. 
 
 *' They must look on your clearing here as a 
 terrible piece of Vandalism, then." 
 
 ** Oh, worse than Vandalism — sacrilege. All sorts 
 of horrible punishments have been prophesied for 
 me ; but as none have yet fallen, my reputation has 
 increased, and I am honoured as one whom even 
 the shades respect. By-the-by, I didn't leave the 
 poor old ghosts quite without a habitation in the 
 land. You see that corner there ; it still remains 
 as I found it." 
 
 " Oh, do take me to see it. I am dying to see 
 a ghost, especially a black one." 
 
 " I'm afraid it's too dark now." 
 
 " Not for ghosts, Mr. Gilmour. Like some of 
 their heirs and successors in the flesh, they 'love 
 the darkness rather than the light,' don't they ? " 
 
 *'If there were nothing more than ghosts, Miss 
 Kennedy, but I'm afraid my ' chamber of horrors ' 
 contains more substantial terrors for a lady." 
 
 *' Nonsense, Mr. Gilmour. We women like to 
 have our nerves tingle ; it's quite nice to feel creepy 
 — in company," Kate added after a slight pause, 
 the suspicion of a smile hovering about the corners 
 of her lips. " Then, you know, I am that case- 
 hardened creature, a lady-medical," she went on, 
 *' therefore, in the male imagination, quite above 
 the weaknesses of my sex." 
 
 '' Very well, then ; come along," replied Gilmour^
 
 ULU, 181 
 
 rising. " We must hurry, or we really shall be 
 too late." 
 
 Kate was on her feet in a moment. Quickly she 
 and Gilmour crossed the clearing, passed behind 
 the rustic huts of the men, and almost immediately 
 found themselves among the sombre shadows of 
 the forest. Pushing aside a bush, Gilmom* revealed 
 the entrance to a low, narrow tunnel literally cut 
 out of the dense undergrowth which formed both 
 walls and roof. The fast-waning daylight was here 
 nearly quite cut off, and in more than semi-dark- 
 ness the two crept along, with backs bent and 
 hands outstretched to push aside a straggling 
 branch or trailing creeper that here and there 
 impeded progress. The darkness, the seclusion, 
 the close, prison- like atmosphere, the weird sounds 
 that from time to time broke the prevailing still- 
 ness, all had a greater effect on Kate than she 
 would have cared to admit. In spite of herself, her 
 heart beat quicker, and an eerie feeling took pos- 
 session of her, which she bravely struggled against 
 as she kept up a cheerful fire of small-talk with 
 her guide, who, on his part, was sympathetically 
 lively, not being without a shrewd suspicion of his 
 companion's true state of mind. 
 
 *^ Now, Miss Kennedy," cried Gilmour, stopping 
 at length in front of a bush that seemed to block 
 the pathway completely, ^'prepare to meet the
 
 182 VLU, 
 
 worst ; " and, without waiting to listen to Kate's 
 impatient '^ Don't be foolish, Mr. Gilmonr," he 
 pushed aside the interposing branches, and the two 
 explorers emerged upon an open space where they 
 could stand erect and once more breathe freely. 
 
 '' Oh ! " cried Kate, involuntarily laying fast hold 
 of Gilmour's arm, and closing her eyes for a 
 moment to shut out the ghastly spectacle that 
 presented itself. 
 
 Opening them again, she found herself at the 
 bottom of what seemed to be a kind of pit or 
 well, cut out of the dense forest vegetation, which 
 rose above her on all sides to a height of a 
 hundred and fifty feet. Eound this pit was an 
 irregular circle of dark, glossy-green dracsenas, and 
 at the foot of each lay a pair of black, oval-shaped 
 jars, about fifteen inches in their greatest diameter. 
 These jars lay on their sides, and in the mouth of 
 each was a grinning human skull, looking preter- 
 naturally ghastly in its gloomy urn. There were 
 some sixty of them altogether, all white and grim 
 and hideous, with a terribly persistent stare in 
 their e^^eless sockets that for some moments held 
 Kate speechless with the fascination of horror. 
 
 ''What does it all mean ? " she asked at length, 
 shaking off the spell with an effort, and addressing 
 Gilmour with bated breath and eyes still fixed on 
 the weird circle of death's heads.
 
 ULU. 183 
 
 Gilmour started. He had been thinking not of 
 the dead, bleached bones before him, but of the 
 warm Httle white hand that nestled so confidingly 
 on his arm, and sent an unwonted thrill through 
 his veins. 
 
 *' I am afraid I must confess my ignorance on 
 that point," he said in answer to Kate's question. 
 '' All I know is that it is the custom. The Wa-Chaga 
 bury their dead in a sitting posture till the bodies 
 are reduced to skeletons. Then the skulls of the 
 man and his chief wife are disinterred and deposited ' 
 in pots like these at the foot of dracsena trees. I 
 have never been able to find out why they do it." 
 
 " Perhaps to give the poor ghosts some sort of 
 home above ground," suggested Kate, now com- 
 pletely recovered from her first feeling of awe and 
 terror. *' "What a difi'erence it makes when one 
 knows the explanation of things ! " she went on. 
 '' I am quite relieved to think this is all there is to 
 see. At first I felt as if it were only the setting for 
 some wild orgy, like the Brocken scene in * Faust.' 
 What a dreary sound the wind makes among the 
 trees, Mr. Gilmour ! " and Kate shuddered slightly 
 as she abruptly stopped to listen. 
 
 " It's the spirits sighing for the good old days of 
 the flesh," said Gilmour, lightly. ''Come, Miss 
 Kennedy," he added; "we really must be going. 
 It is almost dark."
 
 184 ULU. 
 
 '' Oh, do let me have a look at one of the skulls 
 first," pleaded Kate, her scientific instincts rising 
 as she became more and more familiar with her 
 vault-like surroundings. 
 
 '' I'm afraid you could make nothing of it by 
 this light," replied Gilmour, smiling at the strange 
 request. '' If you like, though, we can take one 
 with us ; then you can examine it at your leisure." 
 
 '' Yes, that will be best. But you must promise 
 to return it to-morrow. I don't want to play 
 resurrectionist, you know." 
 
 " All right. Here is one in capital preserva- 
 tion; " and out of an adjacent urn Gilmour tugged 
 the skull alluded to and turned to go. *' You had 
 better take my hand till we get out of the wood," 
 he added, as Kate stumbled over a broken branch 
 at the entrance of the narrow pathway. 
 
 '^ Thank you," said Kate ; and without hesitation 
 she accepted the proffered assistance, as if it were 
 the most usual thing in the world for young ladies 
 to traverse forest footpaths hand in hand with 
 squires of only a few hours' acquaintance. 
 
 With the touch of her slender fingers, a rush 
 of olden memories came over Gilmour, recalling 
 the face and form of one more fair than she, 
 who in bygone days had been to him the type 
 of all that was best and noblest in womankind. 
 Kate felt his fingers tremble as they silently
 
 ULU. 185 
 
 groped their way along together in the darkness, 
 and instinctively she knew he was battling with 
 some strong emotion, though what she could not 
 guess. She did not commit the error of imagining, 
 a;S a more worldly maiden might have done, that 
 Gilmour had suddenly become inspired with a 
 violent passion for herself. She had all along had 
 ii vague feeling that some sorrow, some disappoint- 
 ment, lay at the root of all his cynicism and 
 defiance, and she could only think that in some 
 unexplained way the jarring string had now been 
 set vibrating, and woke responsive echoes in the 
 inmost chambers of his soul. Involuntarily she 
 clasped the hand she held more firmly, but she 
 asked no question, made no further sign of sym- 
 pathy. A few minutes more and they were out of 
 the wood, and safe within the cheerful precincts of 
 the compound, by which time Gilmour had re- 
 gained his wonted composure, and Kate felt free to 
 exchange a few playful words with Ulu as they 
 passed her on their way to the baraza. 
 
 The rest of the evening sped swiftly and 
 pleasantly in conversation, Kate and Gilmour 
 exchanging views on many subjects so thoroughly 
 European, that ever afterwards it was a matter of 
 wonderment, to at least one of them, how they had 
 come to be introduced. 
 
 Kate was a later arrival in Africa than Gilmour,
 
 186 ULU. 
 
 and her heart, unlike his, -^as all in Europe. 
 Brought up in Edinburgh with her uncle, a doctor, 
 she had never been taught to look on Africa as 
 her home ; for her father, until his recent appoint- 
 ment to the mission on Kilimanjaro, had laboured 
 at one of the most unhealthy coast stations, and 
 the worthy man loved his only child too tenderly 
 to dream of exposing her to the dangers among 
 which he himself seemed to live a charmed life. 
 
 Kate had received a medical education, not with 
 a view to becoming a missionary, therefore, but 
 with the intention of practising among the poor 
 of one or other of our own large towns. 
 Although she made the sacrifice cheerfully, it had 
 been 'a sad blow to many of her most cherished 
 plans, when her father, pining for some sort of 
 kindred companionship, had asked her in the 
 mean time to leave her studies uncompleted, and 
 join him in his new sphere of work. As she told 
 Gilmour, her heart was more with the heathen at 
 home than with those abroad — the heathen not 
 only of the slums, but of the drawing-room, — men 
 and women living idle, purposeless, useless lives, 
 content to accept the world as it is, and uncon- 
 vinced of the necessity of striving to make it better. 
 She took a high view of women's position in 
 society — a high view not only of their rights, but 
 of their responsibilities, looking upon it as their
 
 ULU. 187 
 
 most sacred, social dutj^ not only to practise the 
 highest morahty themselves, but to insist on it iu 
 others. 
 
 '' There should be no dual standard of morality," 
 she said. " Men should be judged by the same 
 canon as women, and I fear it is women themselves 
 who are mostly to blame that it is not so. They 
 could raise men almost infinitely if they would only 
 try." 
 
 Gilmour listened attentively, nay, was even at 
 some pains to keep the conversation on the lines 
 along which it seemed so naturally inclined to run, 
 interested as he found himself not only in the 
 theories Kate chose to advance, but in their fair 
 exponent. Under the inspiration of a sympathetic 
 hearer, Kate, on her part, spoke with unusual 
 animation ; and when Mr. Kennedy returned from 
 his rather lengthy talk with Gilmour 's men, he 
 noted with pleasure that his daughter's eye was 
 brighter, her whole air more cheerful and happy, 
 than he had ever before seen it. It was late before 
 they separated for the night, not without a feeling 
 on every side that the pleasant evening had come 
 all too swiftly to a close.
 
 188 ULV. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 *' Good-bye, Mr. Gilmour. Don't be long in coming 
 to see us," said Kate, as early next morning she 
 shook hands with her host, and, mounting her 
 donkey, prepared to set out homewards. 
 
 *' Yes, I hope we shall see you soon," added Mr. 
 Kennedy, cordially. " There are many things I 
 should like to have a talk with you about." 
 
 " The mission station business, for example," 
 put in Kate, in her offhand way. " I don't think 
 you and Mr. Gilmour ever quite settled that affair. 
 
 *' N — no, I think not," answered Gilmour, hesi- 
 tatingly, somewhat put out at having the conver- 
 sation of the previous day brought back to mind. 
 
 "We shall give Mr. Gilmour time to consider the 
 scheme," said Mr. Kennedy. " I have no doubt it 
 won't be long before he brings us a favourable 
 decision. Good-bye, Mr. Gilmour, good-bj^e ; and 
 many thanks for all your kindness." 
 
 "Good-bye," answered Gilmour; and "Good-
 
 ULU. 189 
 
 bye," echoed Kate, as, smiling and nodding 
 pleasantly, she gathered up the reins and turned 
 do^Ti the well-beaten path which led from the 
 gateway, her father stepping out briskly at her 
 side, and a couple of servants bringing up the rear. 
 For a minute or two Gilmour stood watching the 
 little cavalcade appearing and disappearing among 
 the bushes as it followed the windings of the path- 
 way. Once or twice Kate looked back and waved 
 her hand with an air of graceful coquetry that 
 became her well, and might have done credit to 
 the belle of a London season, Gilmour thought, as 
 he slowly sauntered back towards the house, his 
 mind full of his newly departed guest. "Where 
 could she have acquired it, he wondered, as he 
 flung himself down on a low cane lounge, or rather 
 how had she managed to retain it ? For there 
 was too much genuine naturalness in her every 
 look and gesture to admit of their being regarded 
 as matters of acquirement or study. She was not 
 a coquette, and yet she coquetted. She was not a 
 flirt, and yet she used those big brown eyes of hers 
 in a way that would have made even a mere society 
 man give a patient hearing to her grave and rather 
 lengthy harangues. What had an incipient lady 
 doctor to do with so many little feminine graces 
 and charms ? It was against all iDrecedent, con- 
 trary to all one's preconceived ideas ; there must
 
 190 ULU. 
 
 be something wrong somewliere, Gilmour \Yas 
 inclined to think. 
 
 For all that, Gilmour could not but admit that 
 Kate's visit to Pepo-ni had been a pleasant as well 
 as a novel experience — curious, too, in respect of 
 the strangely European influence that seemed to 
 cling about her presence. They had met in the 
 heart of Africa, yet they had talked together as 
 they might have talked in an English drawing- 
 room. Kate's every mode of thought, her every 
 topic of conversation, her whole attitude towards 
 whatever subject came within the range of her 
 consideration, was so thoroughly and so infectiously 
 European that in her society Gilmour had become 
 oblivious to his surroundings, and for the time being 
 was again in Europe. Moreover, it was not the 
 EurojDe he had quitted, full of indignant wrath at 
 its shams and shows and artificialities, but the 
 Europe of his predisillusion days, in which life was 
 still worth living because of its glorious possibilities 
 of work and achievement. Looking back upon that 
 golden time of promise, he felt once more the old 
 desire to do and to conquer strong upon him ; but 
 almost before it was formed he thrust it away, 
 telling himself with well-feigned cynicism that the 
 lessons of experience ilnight be well worth having, 
 but they were not worth paying for twice. 
 
 *' Wait a bit, Miss Kennedy," he said, mentally
 
 ULU. 191 
 
 addressing that young lady ; " wait a bit, and you 
 will say with me, * Better Africa and freedom to 
 live according to nature, than Euro^De and com- 
 pulsion to live according to Mrs. Grundy.' Wait a 
 bit, until you see how much more anxious men are 
 to ' get on ' than to get better, and you won't take 
 quite such a rosy view of the iDOSsibility of their 
 improvement through the elevating influence of 
 women. Wait a bit, until you see in what paltry 
 interests women themselves can become absorbed, 
 and you won't feel so hopeful of their instru- 
 mentality as social missionaries. Wait a bit, and 
 
 3'ouwill say, 'Better a wife like little Ulu than ' 
 
 Whew!" 
 
 Here Gilmour broke off abruptly as he remem- 
 bered how, under the " European influence " of 
 the night before, he had admitted his preference 
 for a wife anything but like Ulu, and had, indeed, 
 entii'ely forgotten his plans regarding that young 
 damsel's future. For a moment he felt inclined to 
 laugh, his scheme appeared so intensely absurd. 
 Then, as the memory of the bitterest disappoint- 
 ment of his life swept across his mind — disappoint- 
 ment in her whom for years he had loved as his 
 ideal of perfect womanhood — his brow darkened, 
 and he went on — 
 
 "Yes; better a wife like little Ulu, whom her 
 father sells for a hundred bullocks, than one who,
 
 192 ULU. 
 
 professing to know a ^voman's ^YO^tll, sells herself 
 for money or position ; " and Gilmour suddenly- 
 leapt to his feet, and commenced pacing the baraza 
 in intense agitation. 
 
 All at once he was arrested by an exclamation 
 from Uln, who for the last ten minutes had been 
 sitting in a corner, quietly amusing herself with 
 some object which evidently afforded her immense 
 satisfaction. 
 
 '' What is it, Ulu ? " asked Gilmour, as he crossed 
 to where she sat, and, kneeling down beside her, 
 patted her head caressingly. 
 
 " Oh, Bwana, the spirit ! the spirit ! " was all she 
 could stammer out. 
 
 '^ Spirit! What spirit, child?" asked Gilmour 
 in a puzzled tone, unable to find a trace of an}'- 
 thing that might suggest the presence of a ghostly 
 visitor. 
 
 *^ The bibi's spirit, Bwana — in the little box. 
 See ! " and Uhi, with averted head, pointed to 
 where a tiny gold locket lay open, face downwards, 
 on the ground. 
 
 Gilmour at once recognized it as one which Kate 
 had worn among other trinkets at her watch-chain. 
 Picking it up, he found it to contain a photograph, 
 the cause of Ulu's alarm. The portrait was that 
 of a young man of Kate's own age or thereabouts ; 
 and as Gilmour scanned the handsome, candid
 
 ULU. 193 
 
 features it revealed, it struck him for the first time 
 that possibly Kate might have a lover, nay, might 
 even herself be in love. That would partly account 
 for her great opinion of the influence of women, 
 and for her intense desire to be back again in 
 Scotland. She had certainly spoken as if she were 
 fancy-free, however ; but, then, all women knew how 
 to play the ingenue in love affairs — women doctors 
 as well as the rest, most likely. 
 
 ''Well, I Hke the little blue-stocking all the better 
 that she has a soft spot in her heart for somebody," 
 was the conclusion of Gilmour's new si^eculation 
 regarding his recent guest. '' I only hope she may 
 not be disappointed, as I was ; and if she is, I hope 
 she may be able to get over it, as, seemingly, I am 
 not ; " and, with an impatient exclamation, Gilmour 
 pulled himself together, and set about trying to ex- 
 plain matters to Ulu, whom he this time succeeded 
 in convincing that a photograph was not a spirit, 
 but could not persuade out of the belief that it was, 
 at least, of spiritual origin. Then he bethought 
 himself to ask where she had found the locket, and 
 how it was she had not at once brought it to him, 
 and proceeded to read her a lecture on the duty of 
 honesty, which, if it was mostly lost upon Ulu, was 
 of great benefit to her instructor, inasmuch as, for 
 the time being, it diverted his thoughts from the 
 morbid channels in which they inclined to run, and 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 104 ULU. 
 
 set them flowing in a healthier, because less self- 
 centred, direction. 
 
 It was strange how, in the short time she had 
 been with him, Ulu seemed to have become an 
 integral part of Gilmonr's life at Pepo-ni. Without 
 exactly knowing the reason why, he felt a certain 
 sense of satisfaction in her society, spite of the 
 failure of his more romantic schemes and the great 
 gulf he now knew to lie between them. Had 
 he set himself to analyze his feelings, he would 
 have discovered that this sense of satisfaction 
 arose in great measure from the fact that in Ulu 
 he had discovered one on whom he could, in a 
 manner, lavish some of the strength of his pent-up 
 affections. He felt interested in the little thing, 
 and liked her — liked her more and more every day. 
 Yet with this growing liking came the growing 
 conviction that she could never be his wife — a 
 conviction that would force itself upon him in his 
 saner moments, spite of his determination to keep 
 it at arm's length. 
 
 More particularly was this the case in the days 
 which followed the Kennedys' visit to Pepo-ni. 
 Eelieved from the charm of Kate's immediate 
 presence, Gilmour soon ceased to speculate about 
 her. Instead, he found himself looking back with 
 longing eyes towards that civilized, social life of 
 which she seemed the embodiment and the type,
 
 ULU. 195 
 
 and by contrast his savage surroundings seemed 
 coarse and unsatisfactor3\ He tried his best to 
 wither up the impression left by his visitors ; railed 
 as wildly as ever at society and society's ways ; 
 nay, was even so ungallant as to talk in con- 
 temptuous terms of the '' chit of a girl," the "little 
 blue-stocking," who ail-unconsciously had stirred 
 anew the smouldering fire of purpose within him, 
 and made him chafe at the life of isolation and in- 
 action to which he voluntarily, and, as he now began 
 to think, rather hastily, had condemned himself. 
 
 Bat memories, however painful and however un- 
 accountably awakened, are not to be lightly lulled, 
 and for days together Gilmour could think of 
 nothing but his old life and his old love, now 
 regretfully, now angrily, now tenderly, now bitterly. 
 At times he would seek relief from his unhappy 
 thoughts in the companionship of Ulu, and throw 
 himself with well-simulated enthusiasm into his 
 search for her soul. Results were seldom en- 
 couraging, the almost invariable consequence of his 
 attempts being an increased fit of restlessness and 
 irritability, and a renewed desire to heap contempt 
 on everything and everybody, which he did in a 
 w^ide, impersonal way that harmed no one and 
 seemed to do him much good. He was never in 
 the same mood for ten minutes together, and con- 
 tinually oscillated between the greatest extremes.
 
 196 ULU. 
 
 Needless to say, the turmoil of his soul soon 
 found expression in his actions, and those around 
 him suffered accordingly. On the slightest pro- 
 vocation he flavoured his language to his men, or 
 testified the depth of his displeasure by the more 
 substantial symbol of a flying boot or camp-stool. 
 The Zanzibaris, who had been accustomed to look 
 upon their master as, on the whole, good-tempered 
 and easy-going, did not know what to make of this 
 new and disagreeable phase of his character, and 
 wisely kept out of his way as far as possible, until, 
 as they put it, ^' the devil had gone out of him." 
 Gilmour was fully conscious of the change in his 
 men's opinion of him, but was too much bent on 
 being miserable to seek to alter it, or look upon 
 their avoidance of him in any light save that of 
 a further grievance, the blame of which lay at 
 other doors than his. 
 
 Gilmour's embarrassments at this time were 
 materially added to by the behaviour of the women 
 of Pepo-ni. They had never got over the slight 
 put upon them by the selection of the little mshenzi 
 (wild person) as their master's wife, for as such, 
 like the Wa-Chaga, they regarded Ulu. They did 
 not dare to express their feelings openly, nor 
 directly annoy the favoured little maid ; but, none 
 the less, in a thousand petty ways they made her 
 feel that she was an intruder. They would have
 
 ULU. 197 
 
 nothing to do with her, and kept themselves 
 severely aloof. Ulu's life was thus at times made 
 utterly miserable, and more than once Gilmour 
 had found her in tears, but unable to give any 
 intelligible account of the cause of her distress. 
 
 At length, quite by accident, Gilmour discovered 
 the persecution of which his little mtoto was the 
 victim. Though not beyond the reach of his 
 wrath, the offenders, as women, were in Gilmour 's 
 eyes bej^ond the only punishment that would have 
 proved effectual, a severe thrashing. The only 
 remedy, therefore, was to place Ulu in a position 
 such as would render the efforts of her tormentors 
 unavailing ; in short, either he must marry her 
 himself, or find a husband for her among his men. 
 Just at present neither of these two alternatives 
 seemed feasible, and in his perplexity Gilmour felt 
 as if Kate were the only person to whom he could 
 appeal for help. That she could and would find 
 some way out of the difficulty, Gilmour felt certain. 
 Still, he could not make up his mind to go to see 
 her about it ; he dreaded too much a fresh inrush 
 of the thousand and one mingled memories that 
 seemed to link themselves inseparably with her 
 personality as a young and accomplished Scotch- 
 woman. Day after day he procrastinated; day 
 after day he gave himself up to the enjoyment of 
 endless fits of " the blues," stalking about Pepo-ni
 
 198 ULU. 
 
 like a caged lion, or swinging idly in a hammock, 
 as the best means he could think of for making 
 himself " comfortably miserable." 
 
 At length he could stand it no longer. This life 
 of indecision and inaction was maddening. If he 
 could do nothing better he would go and hunt — 
 buffaloes, for instance ; there would be both danger 
 and excitement in that. Well, the more the better, 
 he thought. 
 
 *' Perhaps I shall be killed. Humph ! a deuced 
 good thing, too ! " he muttered, as, happy in having 
 at last hit upon some means of distraction, he 
 hastily quitted the baraza for the compound, and 
 proceeded to give orders for the necessary prepara- 
 tions.
 
 ULU, 199 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 The announcement that the Bwan' mkubwa was 
 going buffalo-huntmg diffused universal joy through- 
 out Pepo-ni. The kitiweo (Scottice, " kitchen ") of 
 its inhabitants depended altogether upon Gilmour's 
 shooting, and for days they had been compelled to 
 live entirely upon their insipid Kaffir-corn porridge. 
 Now, however, that he had thrown off his inaction, 
 they once more enjoj^ed prospectively palatable 
 meals, and smacked their lips in childlike abandon 
 as they thought of the buffalo ribs, or even ele- 
 phant's trotters, with which they would soon be 
 gorging themselves. 
 
 On the morning of the hunt, long before Gilmour 
 had finished his coffee, the Zanzibaris who were 
 to accompany him were astir, seeing that their 
 w^eapons were in proper condition, or passing the 
 time and keeping themselves warm with mock on- 
 slaughts on imaginary buffaloes. Ulu, too, was 
 up and about, evidently with the intention of join-
 
 200 ULU. 
 
 ing the party, the movement and excitement of 
 which suited her tastes better than the ordinary 
 humdrum life of Pepo-ni. Presently Gilmour ap- 
 peared and cast a look round his men to see that 
 all were ready. His eye fell upon Ulu. 
 
 "Why, mtoto," he cried, "where are you going? 
 You can't come with us." 
 
 Ulu made no reply, but slunk away, abashed and 
 disai3pointed. 
 
 Touched by the girl's crestfallen look, Gilmour 
 changed his mind, and told her she might go, at 
 the same time bidding her make haste and change 
 her dress for one less conspicuous in its colour. 
 
 The change was soon effected. On her reappear- 
 ance, iDleased and hai)py, she took possession of 
 Gilmour' s gun, as if carrying it w^ere the matter- 
 of-course duty of a wife, women in these parts 
 taking the position of slaves or servants. 
 
 To this arra^ngement Uledi objected, he being 
 always the gun-bearer on these dangerous expedi- 
 tions. Ulu, however, was not to be so easily 
 ousted. In these last few weeks she had come 
 to have new ideas about women's position in the 
 world, and could muster courage to brave even 
 Uledi. She resisted him on this occasion with all 
 the air of one who had a right to command. 
 
 Deeply aggrieved, the headman had recourse to 
 his master, who, to the astonishment and indig-
 
 ULU. 201 
 
 nation of the girl, decided in her opponent's favour. 
 At once, all her old doubts returned with renewed 
 force, and she asked herself why she was thus con- 
 tinually set aside and allowed to do none of a wife's 
 work. Could the Mzungu's real intention be to 
 prepare her for the coast slave-market ? More 
 frightful still, might he not be fattening her up 
 to eat ? and across her mind came the recollec- 
 tion of all the horrible stories which were current 
 among the Wa-Chaga regarding the doings of the 
 mysterious white men. Seeing her disappoint- 
 ment though not understanding the train of ideas 
 which ran through her mind, Gilmour, to please 
 her, gave his water-bottle into her charge, an act 
 of condescension which speedily brought back smiles 
 to her face. 
 
 '' Now then, Uledi," queried Gilmour, " are you 
 sure 3^ou have everything we shall require ? " 
 
 ''Yes, Bwana, everjihing." 
 
 " Come along, then ; " and, leading the way, off 
 Gilmour started up the mountain. With every 
 step came a growing sense of exhilaration as the 
 blood began to course more merrily through his 
 veins and arteries, and the crisp morning air played 
 upon his flushed face. Beside him tripped Ulu, 
 happy for the moment in looking upon herself as 
 at least the Bwana's handmaiden, if not his wife. 
 
 Over ridge and hollow, across jDlantations of corn
 
 202 ULU. 
 
 and sweet potatoes, through rich pasturage, where 
 knee-deep in the long grass goats and fat-tailed 
 sheep were quietly feeding, the hunting-party 
 moved in single file ; now plunging into deep bush 
 or groves of stately trees, again winding through rich 
 tracts of bananas. Far below glowed the luxu- 
 riant plain and forest-clad valley ; there in glitter- 
 ing reaches coursed the Kahe; further east gleamed 
 Lake Jipe, bright with the rays of the morning 
 sun ; beyond rose the dark-blue mountains looming 
 vaguely through the hazy sheen of distance. By- 
 and-by the vicinity of Seri's was reached, and for 
 a moment Gilmour thought of calling in for a 
 drink of fresh milk, an idea he speedily dismissed, 
 as he remembered the inevitable result of more 
 begging on Seri's part. In this respect Ulu's 
 father had made himself an intolerable nuisance. 
 Almost every day he had flaunted his greasy naked- 
 ness in the eyes of his supposed son-in-law. No 
 matter how well clothed he went away, in a few 
 days he was sure to be back in rags, with a 
 lugubrious face. 
 
 Gilmour saw that Ulu was no more anxious than 
 himself to visit her father, having learned from 
 dire experience that the greedy old chief let no 
 occasion pass without despoiling her of her most 
 cherished beads. On one occasion on which she 
 had paid him a visit, she had even been sent back
 
 ULU. 203 
 
 minus her clothes, and looking as arrant a little 
 savage as ever danced in an ngomma. 
 
 Soon after leaving Seri's, the party reached the 
 uninhabited zone, and found themselves among 
 clouds and driving mists. Their way now lay 
 through the most luxuriant tropical vegetation. 
 Gloomy shade replaced the bright and cheerful, if 
 somewhat too hot, sunshine ; the cool, fresh breeze 
 gave place to foetid exhalations and an unwhole- 
 some, chilly dampness. Eotting vegetation covered 
 with fungi encumbered the ground, which, wet and 
 marshy from the almost incessant rains and the 
 absence of air and sun, made walking not only 
 irksome, but excessively disagreeable. The super- 
 abundant wealth of vegetable life was also a 
 nuisance of no small magnitude. 
 
 After an hour's struggle through this forbidding 
 zone, the way began to improve. Soon with relief 
 Gilmour found himself in a di'ier and more open 
 region. Grassy spaces bright with gladiolus and 
 tritoma let in air and sunlight. The giant growths 
 of the cloud-zone were replaced by smaller trees of 
 European aspect. Conspicuous among these were 
 aborescent heaths, looking weird and hoary in their 
 draping of grey lichen, which depended from every 
 twig and branch. 
 
 Gilmom- was now near his hunting-ground. 
 Following for a short time an irregular pathway
 
 204 ULU. 
 
 through a thicket, he suddenly found himself on 
 the edge of one of the most enchanting rocky 
 hollows conceivahle. The central feature was a 
 circular rock basin, rippling over with clearest 
 water, from which, as from a boiling cauldron, 
 rose constant clouds of steam, lending to the scene 
 an air of witch-like glamour. Eound this steaming 
 bowl grew an open circlet of beautiful tree-ferns, 
 their graceful crow^ns of fronds perpetually bathed 
 by the condensed moisture. 
 
 Some distance back rose an almost complete 
 circle of rugged precipices, the angular facets and 
 jagged projections of the black lava rocks peering 
 out grimly from among a sunny drapery of rich 
 vegetation. Ferns especially abounded. They 
 peeped coquettishly from beneath each projecting 
 ledge, and beautified every crevice, tenderly toning 
 down the hideous fire-glazed blackness of the lava, 
 or bringing into more picturesque relief its varied 
 angularities. 
 
 Needless to say, this romantic cup-shaped hollow 
 was an extinct volcanic cone, the sole evidence of 
 its former fiery character being the heated water 
 which bubbled up from beneath. 
 
 In this sheltered nook our hunters pitched their 
 camp. As the afternoon wore on they began to 
 jDrepare for the exciting work before them. And 
 everything being in readiness, Gilmour set out for
 
 ULU. 205 
 
 the hunting-ground. Only three men and Uledi 
 accompanied him, the rest being left to make the 
 necessary arrangements for passing the night. 
 
 Soon after leaving the crater, the shooting-party 
 changed their quick, careless pace to one of cat-like 
 stealth and watchfulness. In the dense bush which 
 they had to penetrate, their progress required the 
 most absorbing attention both of eye and ear. To 
 listen was especially necessary, as they could not 
 see a yard ahead. Every footstep must be care- 
 fully considered, every branch turned aside with 
 the greatest circumspection. Full well they knew 
 that the least crackle of a dry stick, the. slightest 
 swish of a bush would send their wary game flying 
 beyond their reach. A look, an upraised finger, 
 or the faintest of whistles, was a sufficient signal 
 for all purposes. 
 
 Thus cautiously the four men were moving slowly 
 along, following the game paths, and, noiseless as 
 spirits, noting the numerous indications of. the 
 recent passage of buffaloes, when all of a sudden 
 i\iQj were brought to a standstill. The death-like 
 silence of the forest was unexpectedly broken by a 
 great crashing of branches, as if a whole herd 
 of buffaloes or elephants was bearing down upon 
 them. For a moment they did not know what to 
 do, because not knowing what to expect. Was 
 there one or twenty buffaloes ? Were they coming
 
 206 ULU. 
 
 straight for them, or running away, or passing 
 by? These unexpressed questions were speedily 
 answered. A shaking of bushes in the direction 
 from which they had come apprised them where 
 to look for danger. Masters of themselves, the 
 moment they knew which way to turn, they held 
 their rifles ready. A dark hulk tearing through 
 the undergrowth towards them was barely noted 
 before the wood re-echoed with the banging of 
 their rifles. On came the buffalo, rushing furiously 
 towards them, apparently unhurt. It would be 
 useless to face that charge. 
 
 " Into the bushes ! " cried Uledi. 
 
 In a twinkling Gilmour sprang back and dis- 
 appeared among the sheltering leaves. He was 
 just in time. Even as the branches received and 
 closed over him the buffalo came tearing past. 
 Next moment there was a terrified yell, and a 
 dark, heavy object went whirling into the air. 
 Gilmour uttered a startled exclamation. " By 
 Jove ! there's one of my men killed ! " he cried. 
 
 Gilmour was no coward, but for an instant an 
 irresistible desire came over him to remain quiet. 
 Then yell upon yell broke from the bushes a few 
 yards ahead, as if the man who had been tossed 
 was being torn to pieces. Indignant and ashamed 
 of himself, Gilmour jumped to his feet and hastily 
 crammed a couple of cartridges into his empty rifle.
 
 ULU. 207 
 
 The -whereabouts of the unfortunate man were 
 made evident by the efforts of the infuriated 
 buffalo, which was charging with tremendous force 
 into a dense thicket. At each rush the heart- 
 rending cries broke forth with unabated lung power. 
 To all appearances the victim was being mangled 
 to death. Through the forest rang the report of 
 Gilmom''s rifle. With a grunt the buffalo turned 
 round. A second and then a third report rang 
 out. Such a reception was too much, even for a 
 mad buffalo, and he turned and fled. 
 
 The outcries of the gored Zanzibar! had now 
 ceased, and fearing the worst, Gilmour and his 
 men scrambled through the bush, expecting to find 
 a mangled corpse. 
 
 With some difficulty the centre of the thicket 
 was reached, where lay what appeared to be a 
 tumbled bundle of rags, the only evidence of its 
 human contents being a couple of legs which pro- 
 jected from it. 
 
 As the men tenderly proceeded to overhaul their 
 prostrate companion, their worst fears were dissi- 
 pated on hearing a low moan. The poor fellow was 
 not yet quite dead then! "Oh, Bwana, Bwana," he 
 groaned, '' I am killed ! The mboga has killed me." 
 
 Gently and with encouraging words they con- 
 tinued their examination, expecting each moment 
 to light upon some fatal wound, or at least a
 
 208 VLU. 
 
 terrible gash. To their great relief, they found 
 nothing but a few bruises and scratches, the fact 
 being that, thanks to the density of the bushes, 
 the buffalo, after having tossed him, had been able 
 to do its victim no further harm. This piece of 
 good fortune the M-Swahili refused to credit, how- 
 ever, and lay with shut eyes, moaning out that he 
 was a dead man. 
 
 "Fool!" wasUledi's curt comment; and, nodding 
 significantly to a companion, he and the other 
 twitched him to his feet, greatly to the man's sur- 
 prise. 
 
 For the first time he now opened his eyes, and 
 proceeded to examine himself in a stupefied manner. 
 
 "Now, then, Baruti; wake up, man, wake up, 
 and tell us how it happened," said Gilmour, briskly. 
 
 " I don't know, Bwana." 
 
 " Don't know ? Don't 3^ou know where it 
 caught you ? " 
 
 " He must have a skin like a kifaru (rhinoceros)," 
 suggested Ferhani. 
 
 " Or is a lump of mpili (rubber)," added Uledi. 
 
 "Won't you show us how to do that somer- 
 sault ? " queried Eesazi. 
 
 A variety of minor jokes followed, each member 
 of the party relieving the tension of his feelings 
 at the expense of the discomfited Baruti. 
 
 The true explanation of the man's lucky escape
 
 ULU. 209 
 
 was that the buffalo, in butting at its victim, had 
 only caught the flying skirt of his kanzu, which, 
 being new and strong, did not give way, but supplied 
 a sure and safe means of propelling its wearer 
 skywards. 
 
 In the midst of the teasing to which the hero 
 of the moment was subjected, Uledi suddenly 
 became grave. As he lifted up a warning hand 
 the fooling ceased. In the silence which succeeded 
 a low pain-laden moan reached their ears. Each 
 eye flashed in mutual intelligence. "What was to 
 be done ? Finish the buffalo oft' ? Evidently Uledi 
 thought so, for a savage gleam lit up his eyes, as 
 if already he felt the struggling brute underneath 
 him, and his knife buried in its throat. 
 
 The men stood expectant. Gilmour was loth to 
 venture after the wounded animal, knowing that 
 the hunter is never called to perform any feat more 
 dangerous than follow a wounded buffalo into the 
 bush. But he, like many other adventurous 3'oung 
 fools, could not endure to have his men imagine 
 that he shrank from any danger, however foolhardy. 
 Accordinglj^, he signified by a nod that he would 
 finish it, though across his mind came grimly the 
 remembrance of his half-affected notion of the 
 night before — ' I may be killed, and a deuced good 
 thing, too." 
 
 Clenching his teeth, he gave a final look at his 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 VLU. 
 
 rifle, and commenced the process of stalking. The 
 bushes were found to be too thickly grown and 
 interlaced for walking, and the hunters had to 
 wriggle along on their bellies. Nearer and nearer 
 they crawled; more and more distinct grew the 
 moans, higher rose the excitement every moment. 
 A few more yards, and they knew they must be 
 close upon the wounded animal. Still nothing 
 could be seen. Worse than all, the moans ceased. 
 Could the buffalo have heard them ? Was it pre- 
 paring to dash resistlessly upon them ? With 
 straining eyes, Gilmour sought to discover the 
 quarry, listening breathlessly the while for some 
 guiding sound. In vain. He could see or hear 
 nothing. Yet he dared not move. Before a danger 
 so indefinite he felt his courage slowly oozing away, 
 though in all probability his life now depended on 
 his nerve and presence of mind. The bravest will 
 momentarily succumb before perils which cannot 
 be measured or even seen, and Gilmour was no 
 exception to the rule as he lay there spell-bound, 
 not daring to go either forward or backward. 
 
 A deep, long-drawn breath came from within a 
 couple of yards of him. Immediately Gilmour 
 was himself again, and he felt that at that moment 
 he could hold his rifle more steadily, and that eye 
 and finger would work more in harmony than if 
 danger was miles away.
 
 ULU. 211 
 
 By virtue of much craning of the neck, the 
 buffalo was at length discovered. Carefully noting 
 the shoulder-blade, our sportsman sank down 
 again. Putting his rifle to his shoulder, and 
 aiming in the direction noted, he fired. There was 
 a swish of bushes, and an eager, savage grunt. 
 Gilmour lay flat and motionless, awaiting his fate. 
 A momentary silence followed the re-echoing re- 
 port. Gilmour looked up. To his consternation 
 he found the buffalo's head towering almost directly 
 over him, its fierce eyes glaring like coals, its 
 mouth dropping foam and blood. Gilmour knew 
 that discovery meant certain death, yet, fascinated 
 by the character of his danger, he had no feeling 
 of fear; his only conscious sensation was one of 
 uncanny admiration at the splendid pose of the 
 maddened brute, and the concentrated fury of its 
 expression, as it stood, snorting out hot blasts from 
 its widely distended nostrils, its mouth hanging 
 thick with bloody froth. 
 
 Still the buffalo did not move ; statuesque it 
 stood, defying its enemy even in death. Then 
 slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, its great 
 unwieldy body began to sway, though still it held 
 its head erect. Gradually the swaying became 
 more pronounced ; its eye lost some of its fiery 
 brilliancy, its head began to droop, and finally, 
 with a long-drawn moan, it fell with a crash
 
 212 ULU. 
 
 among the bushes, within a j^arcl of where Gihnoin* 
 lay. Simultaneously Gilmour sprang to his feet. 
 His movement, however, was premature. Even in 
 its death agonies the buffalo perceived his presence. 
 With paralyzing rapidity, the sturdy old bull 
 gathered all its remaining energies together, and 
 with a snort literally threw itself forward upon 
 him. Fortunately the effort, however astounding, 
 was comparatively weak, else Gilmour had been 
 a dead man. As it was, he found himself on his 
 back, stunned and breathless, the buffalo almost 
 on the top of him. Unable to rise again, it made 
 determined attempts to screw round its head to 
 gore or toss him ; but before this fell purpose was 
 achieved, Uledi sprang forward to his master's 
 assistance, discharging at close quarters both 
 barrels of his rifle into the animal's heart. A 
 quiver shook its bulk}' body; with one or two 
 sj)asmodic twitches the legs stretched themselves 
 out ; then all was still, and Gilmour, panting but 
 unhurt, dragged himself from beneath its enormous 
 head. 
 
 While Uledi, like a good Mussulman, proceeded 
 to cut the throat of the game, Gilmour stood by 
 and mused on the queer composition of sensible 
 human beings, among whom he included himself, 
 who in the name of sport would imdergo the most 
 frightful sensations and even run imminent risk of
 
 ULU. 213 
 
 death. Then the pride of the hunter took posses- 
 sion of him, and he proceeded to measure the 
 horns of his prize. 
 
 ''Five feet from curve to curve, and a foot hroad 
 in the middle," he exclaimed, with an air of satis- 
 faction. '' Not so had that, Uledi, eh ? " 
 
 The man who had heen tossed was sent hack for 
 help to carry the meat to camp, while Gilmour 
 and the rest continued the hunt, soon to bring 
 down a second buffalo with little difficulty or 
 danger. Towards sunset, they were all back at 
 the camping-ground, to partake with appetite of a 
 plentiful if not savoury dinner, after which Gilmour 
 took to a hammock, as the best place in which to 
 forget that he had a body mortal, and therefore 
 subject to weariness. There, in a dolce far nicntc 
 mood, he survej^ed his toes, or dreamily enjoyed 
 the romantic scene around him. Picturesque 
 enough it was, in all its various elements— the 
 blazing bonfires with their red reflections in the 
 spring, and the dark, half-naked Wa-Swahili cluster- 
 ing about them in merry groups, and chewing with 
 gusto huge buffalo ribs, while Ulu moved about 
 from one to another like a ministering imp of 
 darkness, evident!}^ in more congenial surroundings 
 than when under the eye of Gilmour at Pepo-ni. 
 From the camp Gilmour 's thoughts wandered 
 gradually to Kate Kennedy, and then from her
 
 214 uLV. 
 
 found their wa}^ homeward, till at last, orercome 
 by fatigue and lulled by the soothing sough of the 
 mountain breeze through the trees overhead, he 
 fell asleep, cosily wrapped in his Austrian rug. 
 By degrees the voices of the men ceased, as, sated 
 with beef, they, like their master, one by one 
 dropped off to sleep, with no other covering than 
 their cotton sheets. Two sentinels alone were left 
 to keep watch and ward alike over master and 
 men, and ghost-like they moved about in the 
 darkness to keep themselves awake, now and then 
 adding fuel to the fires, which were kept blazing 
 all night, partly to temper the keen mountain air, 
 partly to frighten off wild beasts — ■ 
 
 " Then Ni^lit and Silence reio:ned."
 
 ULU. 215 
 
 CHAPTEE XYI. 
 
 Next morning Gilmour awoke feeling nnusually 
 cold and sliiveiy. On o^Dening his eyes, he found 
 the little crater enveloped in the rawest of Scotch 
 mists, driven pitilessly overhead before rude gusts 
 of wind. Peeping out from the comparative com- 
 fort of his rug, he could not help laughing as he 
 remarked the woe-begone aspect of his men, who 
 crouched around the fires, shivering as with ague. 
 In a dry atmosphere the same men would have 
 felt no discomfort in lying naked with the thermo- 
 meter at freezing point ; but a raw, damp tem- 
 perature of 40^ F. was sufficient to render them 
 utterly wretched and hel^^less. So keen, however, 
 was the air that even Gilmour was glad to turn 
 out of his hammock, and, wrapped in his rug, draw 
 near the fire to sip his coflee. Almost immediatel}' 
 he was joined by Ulu, who seemed less affected by 
 the cold than any. 
 
 It had been Gilmour's intention to do some more
 
 216 IJLU. 
 
 shooting that clay, if for no other reason than to 
 keep his troublesome thoughts at bay. With such 
 a dense mist, however, that was clearly out of the 
 question. Before it cleared away, and allowed his 
 men to get warmed up for action, all the big game 
 would have sought their forest fastnesses. What, 
 then, was he to do ? He might go home, and next 
 day try the Kahe valley for elephants — that was one 
 idea. Or what about climbing Kibo or Kimawenzi? 
 That was worth thinking about, for neither of these 
 summits had as yet been reached. No, that would 
 not do ; he had not come i^repared for such a 
 difficult expedition. Why not go round by Pisgali 
 and see the Kennedys ? was the next thought that 
 occurred to him. No, that wouldn't do either. He 
 did not 3^et feel equal to explaining his embarrass- 
 ments to the stiff old missionary and his impulsive 
 daughter. 
 
 For an hour or more Gilmour sat gloomily con- 
 sidering his domestic complications and mental 
 perplexities, always returning to the same point, 
 however — ought he not at once to go to Miss 
 Kennedy and confide in her ? Before he could 
 come to any definite decision, his meditations were 
 interrupted by Tubu, who announced that breakfast 
 was ready. By the time that meal was finished 
 the mist had cleared away, and the mountain-side 
 assumed a more pleasing aspect, as the sun shone
 
 ULU. 217 
 
 out between the heavy masses of fleecy clouds that 
 rolled and tumbled along its forest-clad slopes. 
 
 Refreshed and inspuited, Gilmour began to take 
 quite a hopeful view of the future, and promised 
 himself that later on — in the course of a day or 
 two, perhaps — he ivould see Miss Kennedy and hear 
 what suggestions she had to make regarding the 
 continuance of little Ulu's moral and mental edu- 
 cation. Meantime, he would go home to Pepo-ni 
 and see how things were going on there, and — well, 
 as he had plenty of time, and felt much in the 
 mood for a good walk, he might as well go by a 
 roundabout way, pass down by Mandara's district, 
 and take a peep at Pisgah in passing — ^just see 
 what kind of place it was, but not, of course, 
 go in. 
 
 As a significant fact we may note that, as Gil- 
 mour came to this conclusion, his hand travelled 
 instinctively to the breast pocket of his jacket, 
 where he usually carried the little locket Kate had 
 left at Pepo-ni ; and that, on finding he had it with 
 him, he smiled with an air of supreme satisfaction. 
 
 His orders were soon given. Two men were to 
 proceed to Seri's to get help to carry the meat to 
 camp ; Ulu and two more would accompany him ; 
 the rest would remain to guard the game. These 
 arrangements made, Gilmour started in the direc- 
 tion of Mandara's.
 
 218 ULU. 
 
 For some occult reason our hero took a more 
 than common interest in the flora of the region 
 that clay. As he went along he began picking 
 up specimens of the rarer sorts of flowers that 
 abounded in this part of the mountain — beautiful 
 gladioli from the ground, and delicate sprays of 
 orchid from the trees. With these he mingled 
 flowers and ferns of more familiar and homelike 
 aspect — anemones and heaths, maidenhair and 
 spleenwort, until he had gathered quite a magni- 
 ficent bouquet. " They look rather nice," he in- 
 wardly commented, as he surveyed his collection 
 with a critical air; "I only hope they will keep 
 till I get down to Pepo-ni." But even as the 
 thought took shape, a vague suspicion floated 
 through his mind that it was not his sitting-room, 
 but Kate's, they might eventually adorn. 
 
 ^' Here, Ulu," he said aloud, addressing his 
 swarthy little companion, who trotted as usual by 
 his side ; '' you carry these." 
 
 Ulu took the flowers, wondering not a little what 
 could be the Bwana's object in burdening himself 
 with a bundle of weeds. Her final conclusion was 
 that he meant to weave a charm or make medicine 
 with them, and she stepped along quite proudly, 
 elated by the thought that she was allowed to help 
 the white man in his magic, even in this faint and 
 far-off way.
 
 ULU. 219 
 
 still keeping do"wn the bill in a slanting westerly- 
 direction, Gilmonr sauntered leisurely along, and 
 was soon across the dense forest zone and back 
 into the cultivated region, or Chaga proper. About 
 three in the afternoon he reached the vicinity of 
 Pisgab, and, led by Uledi, who knew the district 
 well, be soon found himself on a slight rising 
 ground, whence, unseen himself, he could survey 
 the little outpost of Christianity and civilization so- 
 modestly yet so boldly planted in the heart of the 
 realms of darkness. 
 
 Pisgab, as it had been called by Kennedy— or 
 Mkuyu-ni, the place of the sycamore tree, as it 
 was more pleasantly named in the soft language of 
 the natives — was a charming ridge cut out of the 
 mountain-side by two streams which here ran 
 parallel for a distance of some three hundred yards. 
 From where he stood, Gilmour could without diffi- 
 culty distinguish the missionary's house, with its 
 grass-thatched roof and clay-built walls, nestling 
 in rustic simplicity under the three giant sycamores 
 to which the spot owed its name. Some simple 
 attempts at flower-beds in front, and a kitchen 
 garden behind — all duly fenced to protect them 
 from stray sheep and goats — helped to give tha 
 house a pleasant and homelike aspect. 
 
 A little way further down the hill stood a quad- 
 rangular building of somewhat more lofty preten-
 
 220 • ULU. 
 
 «ions. Outside ^yas a bell, from wbicli Gilinour 
 guessed that this must be the cburcli of the station, 
 though no cross or other religious emblem marked 
 the edifice as sacred. Unusually well-built huts 
 peeped here and there from among the banana 
 trees ; while almost every available inch of ground 
 was under cultivation, and irrigated by an ingenious 
 system of canals which brought the water from the 
 streams to the requisite levels. 
 
 The whole settlement had an air of cleanliness 
 and industry, in striking contrast to the picturesque 
 untidiness of the ordinary M-Chaga village, though 
 Oilmour was unable to rej^ress a smile as he re- 
 marked the ludicrous appearance jDresented by 
 many of the converts, decked out as they were in 
 fragmentary portions of European costume, which 
 seemed strangely out of keeping with the nature of 
 the surroundings. x\s he surveyed the peaceful 
 picture, Gilmour could not help thinking with 
 admiration of the man who had voluntarily fore- 
 gone the pleasures of cultured society, and sacrificed 
 the best years of his life, with the single-minded 
 idea of doing good to his fellows, and imparting to 
 the heathen some of the sweetness and light of the 
 Christian religion. x\ccording to his light, Kennedy 
 was striving to do good in the world ; and yet he 
 (Gilmour), an idle do-nothing, had dared to set 
 himself up to revile and ridicule the worthy
 
 ULU. 221 
 
 missionary's work — na}^ had even cruelly wounded 
 the feelings of the good man himself. As he 
 recalled his interview with Mr. Kennedy at Pepo-ni, 
 he felt overwhelmed with shame at his thought- 
 lessness and rudeness. 
 
 '* What a boor they must think me ! " he mentally 
 ejaculated as he turned sadly away. '' Come, 
 Uledi," he added aloud, ''it's time we were getting^ 
 homewards. We shall scarcely reach Pepo-ni 
 before dark." 
 
 *' Oh, Bwana, listen ! " cried Ulu, who had been 
 sitting on the grass apparently as much absorbed 
 as Gilmour. '' Don't you hear that beautiful 
 sound?" 
 
 " No," said Gilmour : '' what is it ? " 
 
 " I don't know. Listen ! " cried Ulu again. 
 
 " It must be a harmonium," said Gilmour, half 
 to himself, as softly to his ear came the sound of 
 far-off music. *' We might go nearer," he added, 
 tm-ning to Uledi, '"' only I don't want to be 
 seen." 
 
 '' There is a pathway leading down through the 
 bananas to near the church," answered Uledi, who 
 did not want to go further that day, and shrewdly 
 suspected that his master was equally disposed to 
 remain where he was. 
 
 ''Oh, is there?" cried Gilmour with alacrity. 
 " Then by all means let's go down ; " and, following
 
 222 ULU. 
 
 Uledi, the little party crept stealthily along among 
 the trees, and was soon in the immediate vicinity 
 of the church. 
 
 At that moment the music, which had ceased 
 for a little, hegan again. With a start, Gilmour 
 recognized a hymn familiar to him in the dear, 
 sweet days of his boyhood, though almost forgotten 
 in these later 3'ears of bitterness and sorrow. 
 Tremblingly the quavering voice of Mr. Kennedy 
 took up the sacred strain — 
 
 " Lead, kindly Light, amid tli' encircling gloom, 
 
 Lead Thou me on ; 
 The night is dark, and I am far from home, 
 
 Lead Thou me on. 
 Keep Thou my feet ; I do not ask to see 
 The distant scene ; one step enough for me." 
 
 Had the missionary known who was listening to 
 him, and deliberately selected with a view to reach- 
 ing his hearer's heart, he could scarcely have made 
 a better choice. Gilmour was deeply moved. For 
 some time after the last note died awa}^ he stood 
 spellbound, lost in thought. A soft touch at length 
 recalled him to himself. 
 
 " Was it the voice of Maungu (God) ? " queried 
 Ulu in a whisper, lifting her great awe-stricken 
 eyes to his. 
 
 "No, mtoto," he said gently; "but it was the 
 white man's malaam (teacher) speaking to Maungu " 
 — a reply with which Ulu appeared well satisfied.
 
 ULU. ^^^ 
 
 ■J 
 
 Gilmour, bis meditations thus interrupted, did 
 not seek to resume them, but with a farewell glance 
 at village, chiux-b, and mission-house, turned his 
 back upon them all, and set out on his way home- 
 wards.
 
 224 ULV. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 As Gilmoiir, much to Uledi's disgust, slowly re- 
 traced his steps up the hill, his ears were suddenly 
 greeted by a sound of much feminine chatter and 
 laughter, which seemed to come from no great 
 distance. 
 
 "This sounds cheerful," said he to himself. 
 *' Evidently the Pisgahites do not mope in melan- 
 choly. Hullo ! " he exclaimed aloud, as some one 
 among the trees began to whistle ' The Irish 
 Washerwoman;' ''profane enough music this time, 
 surely ! Actually a jig, by Jove ! Has our reverend 
 friend imported an assistant ? " and, bidding his 
 men remain w^here they were, Gilmour ste^Dped 
 aside from the i)ath and softly began making his 
 way through the undergrowth in the direction from 
 which the jubilant strain proceeded. '' By Jove ! 
 Miss Kennedy herself!" was his suppressed but 
 emphatic ejaculation, as, cautiously parting the 
 intervening branches, he caught sight of that dis- 
 tracting young lady standing with scientifically
 
 ULU. 225 
 
 puckered lips and hands crossed behind her back, 
 critically superintending the operations of some 
 native women engaged in an attempt to wash linen 
 a la mode Anglaise. Apparently their efforts were 
 anything but satisfactory, for with an impatient 
 English " Bother it ! " uttered entirely for her own 
 edification, Kate abruptly ceased her music and 
 stepped up to the trough which did duty as a 
 wash-tub. 
 
 "Not that way, Filani," she said quietly in 
 Ki-Swahili, as she rescued a dainty pocket-handker- 
 chief from the hands of one of the women, who 
 had been rubbing away at it with a vigour that 
 threatened its immediate destruction. '^ See," she 
 added ; ''I will show you again ; " and, tucking up 
 her sleeves, Kate plunged up to the elbows in 
 soap-suds, and proceeded with the washing of the 
 handkerchief with as grave a face as when at 
 Pepo-ni she had lectured Gilmour on the social 
 mission of women. 
 
 " A pretty picture ! " exclaimed that young man 
 enthusiastically, as he cast an approving glance 
 over Kate's supple figure and white, rounded arms, 
 and then stood watching her business-like move- 
 ments with an amused smile. 
 
 " I wonder if I should speak to her ? " he went 
 on. "By Jove! I've a good mind to, just to see 
 how she'd look." 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 ULU. 
 
 By this time Kate had finished the handkerchief, 
 and set to work on some heavier article with in- 
 creased vigour. 
 
 '' Bravo, Miss Kennedy ! well done ! " cried Gil- 
 mom*, stepping out from among the trees and 
 waving his hat demonstratively. 
 
 '' Mr. Gilmour ! " exclaimed Kate, with an accent 
 of blank astonishment, as she let her dripping 
 burden fall back with a splash into the trough. 
 
 " Even so. Miss Kennedy. I need scarcely ask 
 if you are well, I think," was Gilmour's rejoinder. 
 
 " But when did you arrive ? Where did you 
 come from ? Have you seen papa ? Where are 
 your men ? " Kate continued breathlessly, hastily 
 drying her hands on the first thing she could lay 
 hold of — a kitchen towel, as she afterwards dis- 
 covered. " Oh, I am so glad to see you," she went 
 on, without waiting for an answer to any of her 
 questions. " I thought you were never going to 
 pay us a visit." 
 
 ''Oh, but I've not come to pay a visit now," 
 Gilmour began. Then, in answer to Kate's disap- 
 pointed look, he went on, "No, really; I can't 
 stay. I was passing, and I just looked in " 
 
 ''A la Paul Pry," interrupted Kate, brightening 
 up again and smiling. " You've not tramped 
 twelve miles just to say how-do-you-do and good- 
 bye to us though. Come along down to the house 
 and have tea."
 
 ULU. 227 
 
 *' But my men," urged Gilmour in rather half- 
 hearted remonstrance; *'they are waiting for me 
 in the wood." 
 
 " Oh, Filani will take care of them," answered 
 Kate, turning away to give her orders to one of the 
 women. *' Is Ulu here too ? " she added, as she 
 came back. " You promised to bring her, you 
 know, the first time you came." 
 
 " Yes, Ulu is here, but she can come on with 
 Uledi." 
 
 '' All right, then ; we needn't wait. This way, 
 please ; " and Kate took a bypath to the left, which 
 formed a short cut to the mission-house. 
 
 *'Miss Kennedy," queried Gilmour banteringly, 
 as Kate referred to the " moist welcome " she 
 had given him, ''do you always superintend the 
 family washing ? " 
 
 *' No, not always, but sometimes." 
 
 *'Eegarded from an aesthetic standpoint, the 
 occupation is highly becoming." 
 
 "Regarded from a utilitarian standpoint, it is 
 highly necessary. Spite of untmng efforts, I have 
 as yet failed to impress the negro mind with the 
 idea that there is a distinction between lawn and 
 leather. I should soon have been in rags if I had 
 allowed my women to go on pommelling my linen 
 after the native fashion." 
 
 *' Oh ! So you are of a revolutionary tendency,
 
 228 ULU. 
 
 Miss Kennedy ? I dare say you would find plenty 
 of other things to reform out here besides the mode 
 of washing." 
 
 *' Oh, everything," cried Kate with emphasis ; 
 " that is, everything domestic." 
 
 " Who would have suspected you of taking an 
 interest in things domestic ? " said Gilmour, with 
 a mischievous look. 
 
 " Why not, Mr. Gilmour ? " queried Kate, turning 
 a pair of astonished eyes on her interlocutor. " Oh, 
 I understand," she went on, with a slight air of 
 sarcasm. *'You think because I am going to be 
 a doctor I must necessarily despise purely feminine 
 duties." 
 
 *' Well, most women who go in for study seem to 
 care for nothing else; at least, men all think so." 
 
 " Behold a notable exception," cried Kate, with 
 a mocking little bow. " I confess I do like study 
 best," she went on, growing serious again; "it's 
 not so monotonous as housekeeping. Still, I'm 
 not above concocting a pudding or — or — or even 
 superintending a washing, as you have just seen ; " 
 and Kate smiled again as she thought how nicely 
 she had been caught in flagrante delicto. 
 
 " ' Oh, the lassie can bake, and the lassie can brew,' " 
 
 began Gilmour. 
 
 " « And the lassie ' "
 
 ULU. 229 
 
 **'Is not yet twenty-two,' shall we say for the 
 sake of truth and the rhyme ? " added Kate, as 
 Gilmour stopped and looked to her to finish the 
 line. *' But she can't make herself into a man, 
 nor set the Thames on fire — heigh-ho ! " and she 
 sighed with comic earnestness. 
 
 " You are ambitious, then, Miss Kennedy ? " 
 queried Gilmour, secretly thinking she was much 
 better as a girl. 
 
 "Oh, tremendously so; but my ambition, like 
 myself, is toning down with age. At ten I 
 dreamed of writing plays like Shakespeare, and 
 singing like Jenny Lind ; at fifteen I think I had 
 come down to George Eliot and Patti ; and now — 
 well, now I am inclined to be content with a decent 
 mediocrity as the utmost I can ever hope to attain 
 to. There's nothing like knowing one's proper 
 level ; it saves one many a smart rap on the 
 head." 
 
 At this philosojphic, though perhaps somewhat 
 well-worn observation, Gilmour laughed good- 
 naturedly, and so did Kate ; but nothing more was 
 said, for just at that moment they reached the 
 house, where Gilmour was received by Mr. Kennedy 
 with a cordiality that went far to intensify his 
 growing feeling of kindliness towards the stiff and 
 somewhat narrow old man. 
 
 As together they entered the sitting-room, Gil-
 
 230 ULU. 
 
 mour was struck by the cosy, home-like, almost 
 EngHsh air that pervaded it. It was a room 
 much like Gilmour's at Pepo-ni, only rather larger. 
 There was the same light, simple furniture, the 
 same rug-strewn floor, the same lattice-work walls. 
 Improving on Gilmour's idea of the canvas curtain, 
 Kate had lined the walls with buff-coloured Zan- 
 zibar mats, boldly painted by her own deft fingers 
 with tropical birds and wild flowers. Here and 
 there a dainty bit of drapery, a brilliant scarf 
 loosely knotted over the back of a chair, or a quaint 
 calabash filled with flowers and ferns, plainly spoke 
 of a woman in the house. Most eloquent of all 
 in Gilmour's eyes was the open work-basket, large 
 enough and untidy enough to suggest frequent use, 
 standing by a low wicker chair near one of the 
 windows, which commanded a fine view of the 
 surrounding country — the distant mountains, the 
 pleasant slopes of Chaga, and the quaint little 
 village nestling so picturesquely among the banana 
 trees. 
 
 On a small table in one corner stood the tea-tray, 
 temptingly covered with a snowy cloth, and laden 
 with a bright array of china and silver. 
 
 " Kate, my dear, why do you always insist on 
 making tea yourself?" said Mr. Kennedy to his 
 daughter, as she busied herself over the table. 
 "You're not half lazy enough for Africa."
 
 ULU. 231 
 
 " Wait a bit, papa ; I'm not yet half acclimatized. 
 Mr. Gilmour, do you take sugar and cream ? " 
 
 " How deliciously home-like that sounds ! Yes, 
 please, both," said Gilmour, as he rose to take his 
 cup from Kate's hands. " China cups. Miss 
 Kennedy ! " he exclaimed. *' This is luxury ! " 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Gilmour, isn't it ? " remarked Mr. 
 Kennedy. *' Kate would have it she couldn't stand 
 * tinnies,' as she slightingly called my beautiful 
 enamelled ware " 
 
 '* So her indulgent daddy loaded up a boy with 
 
 crockery " explained Kate, regarding her father 
 
 affectionately. 
 
 ''And all the way up she nearly badgered the 
 poor fellow's life out of him," concluded Kennedy, 
 "with cautions to be careful not to let his load 
 fall." 
 
 "Papa, that is an unnecessary detail," cried 
 Kate, professing to look severe. "As it turned out 
 my cautions were by no means superfluous. More 
 than half the things were smashed by the time 
 they got here." 
 
 " Then we had our enamels stolen," Mr. Kennedy 
 went on, " and if it hadn't been for your kindness 
 in replenishing our stock, Mr. Gilmour, we should 
 have been very hard up indeed." 
 
 "Oh, you mustn't talk about that, Mr. Kennedy," 
 exclaimed Gilmour ; "I had plenty to spare."
 
 232 ULU. 
 
 " Ah, here comes Ulu," cried Kate, as a little 
 dark face peeped curiously round the edge of the 
 doorway. " Come in, little one," she added in 
 Ki-Swahili; " come in, and have tea with the rest 
 of us. Oh, what lovely flowers ! " she exclaimed, 
 as Ulu shyly entered, her hands full of the splendid 
 blossoms Gilmour had gathered on the mountain- 
 side. " Where did you get them ? " 
 
 " It was the Bwan' mkubwa," answered Ulu hesi- 
 tatingly, with a timid glance towards Gilmour, as if 
 asking him to continue the explanation for her. 
 
 *' Take them, Miss Kennedy ; they are for you," 
 said Gilmour. 
 
 *' Oh, how kind of you ! Thank 3'ou so much. 
 I adore flowers," cried Kate in ecstasy, tenderly 
 taking the proffered bouquet as if fearful of destroy- 
 ing a single delicate petal. " But where did you 
 get them?" she asked again. "I never saw any 
 flowers like those on the way from Pepo-ni." 
 
 " No, they come from higher up the mountain. 
 I did not come from Pepo-ni this morning. I was 
 bufialo-hunting, and stayed all night at Maji-moto." 
 
 " And you have walked all that way to-day ! 
 Oh, Mr. Gilmour, why didn't you tell me ? " cried 
 Kate repentantly. " Why, you must be tired to 
 death, and starving too. Do let me order some- 
 thing more^ substantial than tea for you ; " and she 
 rose to call a servant.
 
 ULU. 233 
 
 *' No, really ; you mustn't think of it," interposed 
 Gilmour. " I prefer tea to anything else at the 
 end of a walk." 
 
 *' But it's two hours yet till dinner-time," remon- 
 strated Kate. 
 
 " I assure you I won't faint in the interval. 
 May I trouhle you for another cup, and some more 
 of that delicious hread and hutter ? " 
 
 "But, Mr. Gilmour," said Kennedy, ''why not 
 have ' tea and till't,' as we say in Scotland ? " 
 
 " Really, I'd much rather have the * tea ' without 
 the 'till't,' unpatriotic as it may appear." 
 
 " Ah, here is something that will rouse the 
 Scotchman in you," cried Kate, springing to her 
 feet and darting into the next room, to reappear 
 almost immediately, carrying a plateful of genuine, 
 gritty, Scotch oat-cakes. 
 
 "Oat- cakes!" exclaimed Gilmour, with un- 
 affected delight. " Well, this is a surprise ! Food 
 for the gods ! " he ejaculated, eagerly breaking off 
 a crisp morsel and applying his teeth to it. 
 
 " And food for men," added Kate, pleased at her 
 guest's appreciation of the homely fare. 
 
 " Ay, especially men of bone and muscle," 
 cried Mr. Kennedy, rubbing his hands enthusi- 
 astically. " There's nothing like oatmeal for 
 making bone " 
 
 " Hard heads, hard knobs, and angularities of
 
 234 ULU. 
 
 all sorts, eh, papa ? " added Kate, laughing ; " also 
 porridge, cakes, and — and " 
 
 ''Haggis," suggested Gilmour, coming to her 
 assistance. 
 
 ''Exactly, Mr. Gilmour; thank you — haggis. 
 Not that I ever tasted that ' great chieftain o' the 
 puddin' race,' though." 
 
 "And mine," gravely added Gilmour. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Gilmour, what hypocrisy ! " cried 
 Kate. " I do believe you are as innocent of haggis 
 as I am." 
 
 " Miss Kennedy, I am surprised," returned 
 Gilmour with an injured air. 
 
 " Well, now, tell me, did you ever taste it ? " 
 
 " Taste it ? To doubt that is to doubt my 
 patriotism." 
 
 " Oh, I did not know that there was a direct 
 ratio between Scotch haggis and Scotch patriotism. 
 Well, then, to jDut my question differently, how 
 many pounds of patriotism have you consumed ? 
 Fifty ? " 
 
 " Oh, scarcely so many as that." 
 
 " Ten ? " 
 
 " Scarcely." 
 
 " One, perhaps ? " 
 
 " I should think about a quarter of an ounce 
 would be nearer it," put in Mr. Kennedy, in his 
 quiet way.
 
 ULU. 235 
 
 "Yes, I think so," replied Gilmour ; '' and even 
 that I regretted." 
 
 " Oh, shame, ^Ir. Gilmour, shame ! You mighty 
 at least, have jDersevered until you acquired the 
 taste." 
 
 " But the famil}^ doctor forbade," urged Gilmour 
 in self-defence. 
 
 " Degenerate son of a noble race, I'm afraid 
 there's no hope for you. To think of your shelter- 
 ing yourself under the ignoble plea of ' doctor's 
 orders ' ! " and Kate shook her head hopelessly as 
 she rose and pushed back her chair. "Well," she 
 added, going towards the door, ''let us quit this 
 painful subject. Don't you think we might take 
 a turn outside ? Or would you rather stay indoors 
 and rest?" 
 
 *' Certainly not. By all means, let us go out ; " 
 and Gilmour jumj)ed to his feet with alacrity. 
 
 '' Come, then, and I will show you the church 
 
 and Oh, but I had forgotten ; I must arrange 
 
 your lovely flowers first." 
 
 '' Oh, never mind the flowers just now. They 
 won't spoil by waiting half an hom\" 
 
 " I'm afi'aid they will. See, they are drooping 
 already, poor things. But don't wait for me. 
 Papa, you can take Mr. Gilmour over the place, 
 and I'll come on by-and-by." 
 
 "With pleasure; but, remember, I have the
 
 236 ULU. 
 
 men's English lesson at five o'clock. You won't 
 be long ? " 
 
 " Not more than a quarter of an hour or so. 
 Wait for me at the church," cried Kate, hurriedly 
 commencing to undo the wisp of grass with which 
 the flowers were bound together. *' Ferjallah," 
 she added, addressing a servant, " take Ulu round 
 and give her a ride on my donkey. First bring 
 me some fresh water, though. Quick ! " and Kate 
 turned to go indoors, while her father and Gilmour 
 took the nearest path to the house of one of the 
 village dignitaries, a pet convert and special 
 favourite of Mr. Kennedy's. 
 
 They found him arrayed in all the glory of a 
 cast-off clerical coat and hat, but did not stay to 
 do more than exchange salutations with him, Mr. 
 Kennedy adding a hope that he would not forget to 
 come to the English class that afternoon. From 
 house to house they passed, always with the same 
 message; while between times Mr. Kennedy, for- 
 getting for the moment Mr. Gilmour's expressed 
 views on missionar}^ enterprise, talked earnestly to 
 his visitor of the work he had done and hoj^ed to 
 do, of the progress already made at his new station, 
 and of the further improvements, spiritual and 
 material, he desired to effect. To all this Gilmour 
 listened attentively, but without saying much, not 
 being hopeful of the continuance of the reforms the
 
 ULU. 237 
 
 missionary had undeniably brought about, and 
 especially not being so much inclined as the latter 
 to believe in the permanence of the transformation 
 supposed to be effected in the natives' souls by 
 the preaching of the gospel. 
 
 At length it was time for them to seek the 
 church, and the conversation turned upon Kate. 
 
 " It must be a great comfort to you to have your 
 daughter here, Mr. Kennedy," said Gilmour. 
 
 " Oh, unspeakable. Now that she is with me, I 
 can scarcely understand how I managed to endure 
 the utter loneliness of the last twenty years. The 
 Lord Himself must have given me strength." 
 
 " Twenty years ! " repeated Gilmour. '* Is it so 
 long as that since your wife died ? " 
 
 " She died when her child was born," replied 
 Kennedy, a look of great pain and sadness on his 
 face. ** I sometimes wonder," he continued, after 
 a pause, slowly and with an accent of deep melan- 
 choly in his voice — *' I sometimes wonder if I have 
 not done wrong in bringing Kate out here, too." 
 
 " Oh, I don't think you need trouble about that, 
 Mr. Kennedy," cried Gilmour, cheerfully. ''I'm 
 sure she's all right. She looks healthy enough, at 
 any rate." 
 
 ''My wife was just as bright and full of life as 
 she, and yet " 
 
 "Oh, but really, Mr. Kennedy," remonstrated
 
 238 ULU. 
 
 Gilmour, '' you mustn't allow yourself to take too 
 morbid a view of the possibilities of the situation. 
 It would, of course, be nonsense to deny that there 
 are dangers incident to the country and climate ; 
 but here, in Chaga, these are reduced to a minimum, 
 and, after twenty years' experience, you must know 
 perfectly how they are to be met. Then, after the 
 medical training Miss Kennedy has had, she must 
 be better able than most girls to take care of her 
 health." 
 
 '' True ; but it is also an additional element of 
 risk. She is so ardent and impetuous, she never 
 thinks of danger to herself. If any one is sick 
 within twenty miles of us, she must be off at once 
 to see Uhe case,' as she insists on calling it, 
 regardless of fatigue or the possibility of infection. 
 I wish I could persuade her to take as deep an 
 interest in the spiritual welfare of her patients," 
 continued the missionary, half to himself. '' She 
 concerns herself far too much with their bodies, 
 and far too little with their souls. It all comes of 
 that impersonal way she has of talking about 
 ' cases,' I believe," he concluded, with a sigh and 
 a shake of the head. 
 
 Gilmour smiled, as he thought to himself that 
 possibly the fair delinquent's shortcomings might 
 be capable of another explanation. He wisely said 
 nothing on that head, however ; but, glad of an
 
 ULU. 239 
 
 opportunity of diverting his companion's thoughts 
 from the gloomy direction in which they had 
 threatened to turn, he gallantly took up the defence 
 on other grounds. 
 
 ^'But, Mr. Kennedy," he urged, *' I am sure you 
 must often have found Miss Kate's ministrations 
 open an easy pathway for your own." 
 
 *'0h yes, indeed," cried Mr. Kennedy, with 
 enthusiasm. *' Kate has been nothing but a help 
 to me in every way, only she seems to put first 
 what I would put last." 
 
 " I should think she would be a great favourite 
 with the natives," said Gilmour. 
 
 "Well, 'favourite' is scarcely the word for it. 
 She is beloved, no doubt ; but she is also revered, 
 and almost worshi23ped. Her cures are regarded 
 as something supernatural, as, of course, you will 
 
 understand from your own experience, and 
 
 Oh, here she is at last," cried Mr. Kennedy, inter- 
 rupting himself, as, panting and breathless, Kate 
 came running towards them. ^' Take time, my 
 dear, take time," he added, as she came up. 
 " You'll hurt yourself running like that." 
 
 " Oh, papa, I'm so sorry ! " exclaimed Kate. 
 '* Am I very late ? I stayed to change my dress, 
 you see," she continued explanatorily, ''and it took 
 longer than I expected." 
 
 " As usual, I may add," said her father, laugh-
 
 240 ULU. 
 
 ing and pinching Kate's flushed cheek. " Women 
 are never to be counted on when there's a toilette 
 in question. Well, I must hurry off now, at any 
 rate," he went on. " Mr. Gilmour, you will excuse 
 me. I dare say Kate won't let you weary till I 
 come back;" and, so saying, Mr. Kennedy walked 
 briskly away. 
 
 *' Have you been over the church, Mr. Gil- 
 mour ? " was Kate's first question when they were 
 left alone. 
 
 " Yes, thank you ; but I shouldn't mind going 
 again, especially if you would sing something. 
 The harmonium is fairly in tune, I think." 
 
 " Oh, not now, please," cried Kate, in answer to 
 Gilmour 's request ; " I am too much out of breath." 
 
 "And all on account of this wonderful dress ? " 
 
 "Yes. By-the-by, what do you think of it?" 
 and Kate stepped back a pace or two to let her 
 companion have a better view. 
 
 The gown in question was not quite an ordinary 
 one. It was composed of soft white Indian muslin, 
 and fell about Kate's lissom figure in long, straight 
 folds, confined at the waist by a yellow ribbon, 
 except where in front a loose end was mysteriously 
 caught up and carried scarf-wise to the left 
 shoulder. Loose, wide sleeves, not unlike those of 
 a Koman tunic, added greatly to the effect of the 
 classic draping of the costume.
 
 ULU. 241 
 
 " Think of it ? " repeated Gilmour. " I think it 
 charming. It suits you to perfection," he added, 
 as he completed his admiring survey. ''Is it 
 not something like what your women here are 
 wearing ? " 
 
 "Yes. Papa wanted them put into European 
 clothes right away, but I wouldn't hear of it ; they 
 seemed so conventional, and out of keeping with 
 the surroundings. Of course, they couldn't be 
 allowed to continue the native costume — or shall 
 we say want of costume?" queried Kate, paren- 
 thetically — '' so, as a compromise, I invented this," 
 and she indicated her own cool, graceful gown ; 
 " and, to get the women to wear it, took to wearing 
 it a good deal myself." 
 
 " Why didn't you invent something for the men 
 at the same time ? " 
 
 " Oh, the men were beyond me. I did try to do 
 something with them; but the hereditary negro 
 bias in favour of tail-coats and second-hand tiles 
 was too much for me, and I had to acknowledge 
 myself beaten. Come, Mr. Gilmour," added Kate, 
 after making this laughing avowal; ''let's go back 
 to the house. It will be much nicer in the sitting- 
 room than here." 
 
 Just as they reached the porch, Gilmour suddenly 
 remembered the locket. 
 
 "Oh, Miss Kennedy," he cried, abruptly break- 
 
 YOL. I. R
 
 242 ULU. 
 
 ing off in the middle of some remark he happened 
 to be making at the moment, and beginning to 
 fumble hurriedly in his pocket, *'I had almost 
 forgotten. Here is something you left behind at 
 Pepo-ni; " and, pulling out the missing trinket, he 
 handed it to Kate, with a curious look of inquiry 
 in his eyes, as if anxious to see what effect its 
 restoration would produce. 
 
 ''My dear little locket ! " cried Kate, ecstatically 
 heedless of everything save her own delight. ''Oh, 
 I am so glad ! And my dear old Dodo's photo, 
 too," she added, as she touched the sj^ring and 
 found that the portrait was safe. " Where did you 
 find it, Mr. Gilmour ? " she asked, still continuing 
 to regard the portrait affectionately, to the further 
 strengthening of Gilmour's suspicion that this 
 " Dodo " was no ordinary friend. " I had quite 
 given it up for lost." 
 
 " It was Ulu who found it, shortly after you 
 went away. I should have sent it after you, but 
 every day I intended to come myself and bring it 
 with me. I carried it about with me continually 
 for that very reason." 
 
 "And I, on my part, would have sent to inquire 
 about it ; but every day I thought you would be 
 here, or — or — perhaps, if you could not come your- 
 self," Kate continued hesitatingly, "would have 
 sent it to me, had you found it. So I always put
 
 ULU. 243 
 
 ofif ; and when so many days went by, and I beard 
 notbing of it, I concluded I bad not lost it at 
 Pepo-ni, but somewbere on tbe road, and tbat now 
 I sbould never bear of it again." 
 
 "I am really very sorry," began Gilmour. 
 
 '' Ob, but you mustn't be," cried Kate, fearing 
 her words had sounded like a reproach. *' The 
 delay has only increased the pleasure of getting it 
 back. Of course, you saw the photo inside ? " 
 
 " Yes. May I ask whose it is ? " 
 
 ''Oh, Dodo's," explained Kate, vaguely, as if it 
 were a matter of course that Gilmoui' should know 
 who '' Dodo " was. " But I have a much better 
 one than tbat. Happy thought ! " she exclaimed ; 
 "I will show you my album. Just excuse me 
 one moment ; " and, leaving Gilmour standing in 
 the porch, Kate darted away and disappeared 
 within doors.
 
 244 ULU, 
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 *' Allow me, Miss Kennedy," exclaimed Gilmour, 
 as Kate returned, a large photographic album 
 under one arm, a couple of doubled-up folding- 
 chairs under the other. 
 
 With a smile, Kate permitted him to relieve her 
 of the chairs and set them on their legs. Then, 
 settling herself comfortably on one of them, she 
 drew the other towards her, and motioned to 
 Gilmour to sit down. 
 
 "That is uncle," she said, opening the album, 
 and pointing to a fine-looking man of sixty or 
 thereabouts. *' I lived with him all the time I 
 was in Edinburgh, you know," she added, by way 
 of explanation. "That is auntie," she went on, 
 turning the page. "And that's Grace, and that's 
 Dora, and here's Dodo. Now, isn't that much 
 better than the little thing in the locket here ? " 
 and Kate laid the smaller x^hoto on the open page 
 for comparison.
 
 ULU. 245 
 
 *' You forget, Miss Kennedy, that I am still in 
 the dark as to who Dodo is," said Gilmour, amused 
 at the eager way in which Kate passed from portrait 
 to portrait without stopping to comment on them 
 after the customary fashion of album exhibitors. 
 
 " How stupid of me ! " exclaimed Kate. " Why, 
 of course you are. It seems so natural to me to 
 regard you as an old friend, that I always forget 
 this is only our third meeting, and that you don't 
 know anything about me." 
 
 '' I feel flattered, Miss Kennedy, I assure you," 
 said Gilmour. 
 
 '* Oh, now, please, Mr. Gilmour," cried Kate, 
 mistaking the tone of this reply, " don't begin 
 making any of these funny little speeches one 
 hears so frequently ! They are so often unmean- 
 ing, one feels tempted to think they must be always 
 so." Kate looked so genuinely distressed that 
 Gilmour could not find it in his heart to resent the 
 unnecessary rebuke, for he had been perfectly 
 honest in the feeling that had dictated the offend- 
 ing remark, though, as he acknowledged to himself, 
 his way of putting it had been somewhat stiff 
 and formal. Something of this Kate must have 
 gathered from his silence ; for, looking up, she 
 added impulsively, '' But I do believe you did 
 mean it — meant that you were glad we already 
 seemed like old friends, you know."
 
 246 ULU. 
 
 ''Why, of course I am," returned Gilmour. 
 " That was just the thought which struck me that 
 day after you left Pepo-ni." 
 
 "Come, then," said Kate, smiling again, "and 
 I shall introduce you to my other old friends ; " 
 and once more she opened the album at the 
 beginning. 
 
 As she turned the pages, this time in a more 
 leisurely fashion, Gilmour could not help mentally 
 remarking how lovingly she lingered to dwell on 
 this or that characteristic of the individuals she 
 described; how rapturously she spoke of their 
 doings, talents, and acquirements, as if, indeed, 
 they filled her whole soul. Her uncle was the best 
 and cleverest man in all the world ; her aunt the 
 dearest and kindest woman ; Dora, her eldest 
 cousin, was such a lovely girl; and Grace, the 
 second, promised to be such a splendid artist — she 
 was studying now in London, and already had had 
 a picture "on the line" at the Academy. And 
 Dodo — Donald was his right name, but she always 
 called him Dodo — Dodo was such a bright, hand- 
 some boy. You could see that from his photo, 
 couldn't you ? He was only a few months older 
 than herself, and they had grown up just like 
 brother and sister ; they always called each other 
 so, indeed ; and they had studied together all 
 along, and — and Here Kate hesitated and
 
 ULU. 247 
 
 blushed, as she looked up to find Gilmour watching 
 her face intently, and from its expression guessed 
 that he was thinking of some deeper tie as existing 
 between her and Dodo than that of a merelj^ 
 fraternal love. Hastily she looked down again, 
 and in silence turned over several pages. 
 
 " These are all other dear friends of mine," she 
 said at length ; '* not relatives, j'ou know, but 
 acquaintances who belonged to our student circle." 
 
 "Mostly men, I see," was Gilmour's comment. 
 " Were there no girls among the ' initiated ' ? " 
 
 " No. I think there must be something wanting 
 in me," answered Kate, a grave, almost sad 
 expression on her face ; ''I never seemed to get 
 on well with girls." 
 
 '' Perhaps because you had not much in com- 
 mon with most," suggested Gilmour, by way of 
 comfort. 
 
 " Perhaps. That is just the trouble ! A girl 
 ought to have things * in common ' with other girls. 
 But there's no use puzzling over that at present," 
 said Kate, with a sigh. " The fact remains that 
 I seemed to have more in common with men, and 
 more readily made friends of them. Then, of 
 course, Dodo's friends were all men," she added, 
 " and naturally I came a great deal into contact 
 with them." 
 
 '' Of course you did not attend classes with them ?
 
 248 ULU. 
 
 Edinburgh University still holds out against the 
 ' fair girl-graduate,' I think. There were some 
 tremendous student rows on the subject in my 
 time." 
 
 *' Are you an Edinburgh student too, Mr. 
 Gilmour ? " cried Kate, in delighted surprise. 
 " This is a fresh bond of friendshp. How long is 
 it since you were there ? " 
 
 *' As a student ? Oh, nearly ten years." 
 
 " How funny ! Why, I would be a little girl in 
 frocks then, still addicted to running races with 
 Dodo, and unconscious of any crime against 
 feminine proprieties in confessing myself a biped." 
 
 Gilmour laughed. 
 
 "How long did you stay in Edinburgh?" Kate 
 went on eagerly. 
 
 " Nearly two years." 
 
 *' Did you know many people ? Perhaps we 
 may have mutual friends." 
 
 " No, I'm afraid not. I lived very m.uch alone, 
 visited by and visiting no one. Edinburgh people 
 are very reserved, as you know, and so was I. I 
 had no wish to court society, and, as I was not a 
 celebrity, of course society didn't court me." 
 
 ''But students ? You must have known plenty 
 of them." 
 
 ''No, not intimately; not beyond the exchange 
 of a nod or a greeting."
 
 ULU. 249 
 
 " How frightfully lonely it must have been ! " 
 exclaimed Kate, with a little shiver. 
 
 *'Not to me. I had the companionship of my 
 own thoughts, and that was enough, for they were 
 bright and pleasant. I had hopes and purposes in 
 those days, was dreamy and romantic — oh, a very 
 different person to what I am now, I assure you ; " 
 and Gilmour smiled bitterly, and relapsed into 
 silence. 
 
 " But, Mr. Gilmour," began Kate, as if she 
 would have liked to hear more of that solitary and, 
 as it seemed to her, terrible life. Then, noting the 
 strange expression on Gilmour's face, and fearing 
 the theme might be unpleasant, she stopped and 
 asked abruptly, " What did you go in for at the 
 university ? " 
 
 *' Science chiefly. Intuitively, I think, I had an 
 intense love of Nature, and even as a boy could 
 never see enough of her varying moods and aspects. 
 As I grew older the feeling increased, but with it 
 came more of the desire to know the how and the 
 why of things. In an amateurish sort of way, I 
 took up botany and geology, and finally became so 
 interested in my studies that, on leaving school, I 
 determined to devote a year or two to them, and 
 went to Edinburgh accordingly." 
 
 " I know something of botany and geology, too," 
 cried Kate, with interest. ''I'm afraid I never got
 
 250 ULU. 
 
 beyond the * amateurish ' stage, though," she added, 
 shaking her head. 
 
 '' Who was your teacher ? " 
 
 " Oh, only uncle. We used to take long walks 
 together every Saturday. Sometimes we went to 
 the country and studied strata and natural orders ; 
 sometimes we went to the slums and studied 
 archaeology and ' life.' I think the last was my 
 favourite, and first made me turn from books to 
 humanity. It first made me think of going in for 
 medicine, too. I felt as if I must do something to 
 relieve the horrible suffering and misery I saw, 
 and which seemed so overwhelming compared with 
 the measures taken to alleviate it." 
 
 *' How very different our two ' environments ' 
 seem to have been ! " said Gilmour, meditatively. 
 *'You seem never to have done anything alone, 
 and I never anything in company." 
 
 '' But at home — had you no brothers or sisters ? " 
 
 '* Only one sister, and she married and went 
 abroad when I was seven." 
 
 '^ And at school — had you no companions ? " 
 
 *' Oh yes. There, like yourself, I was one of a 
 little set of my own — a very idle set, I'm afraid you 
 would have called it. Our first point of contact 
 was a mutual contempt for such commonplace 
 things as grammar and arithmetic ; our next, a 
 common admiration for whatever was brave and
 
 ULV. 251 
 
 heroic, especially if it appealed to the imagination. 
 We all took romantic views of life, and all dreamt 
 of one day making a name in the world, each in 
 our different ways. After the manner of our 
 favourite heroes, we all vowed eternal brotherhood, 
 but — but — somehow or another" — here Gilmour's 
 words came slowly, and he seemed to be speaking to 
 himself, forgetful altogether of his companion — 
 *' somehow or another, the vow has broken 
 through, like other vows one hears of in one's 
 time ; " and again came the bitter smile Kate had 
 noted before. 
 
 For a time there was silence, during which 
 Gilmour sat lost in one of his gloomy trains of 
 thought, and Kate busied herself afresh with 
 speculations as to what it could be that made Mr. 
 Gilmour so constantly tend towards melancholy, 
 and why it was he didn't rouse himself up and go 
 and do something, instead of settling down to 
 mope and brood in Africa, in the very place, 
 according to her idea, to make one sick of one's 
 self and sick of everything. Once, the inclination 
 crossed her to put some of her s2)eculations into 
 words, but a glance at Gilmour's mournful face 
 and dejected air convinced her that to question 
 him then, at any rate, would only be to cause him 
 further vexation. For a minute or two she cast 
 about in her mind, trying to think of some cheerful
 
 252 ULU. 
 
 topic of conversation, or, at least, something that 
 would not too vividly recall things European and 
 painful. 
 
 " What about Ulu, Mr. Gilmour ? " she exclaimed 
 at length, as a bright idea struck her. " Have you 
 found her ' soul ' yet ? " 
 
 Gilmour looked up and laughed, more at the 
 abruptness of Kate's question than anything else. 
 " Not quite," he answered ; " but the discovery is 
 coming — coming. A little more polishing of the 
 husk " 
 
 ''And the kernel will peep through, I suppose," 
 was Kate's laughing conclusion. ^' After that are 
 we to have the wedding, then ? " 
 
 " Of course, as soon after as possible," replied 
 Gilmour, with assumed gravity. 
 
 " Not really, Mr. Gilmour ? You are not in 
 earnest, are you?" 
 
 *' Certainly. Why shouldn't I be ? " 
 
 *'But it seems so preposterous. The idea of 
 yom- marrying a negress ! " 
 
 ''Why, Miss Kennedy, I am surprised at you. 
 When we spoke of it last you seemed quite 
 charmed." 
 
 " Oh yes, it sounded very fine, you know ; but 
 
 when I got home and thought it all over- " 
 
 Kate shook her head expressively, and left her 
 sentence unfinished. *' I can't see how it will
 
 ULU. 253 
 
 make either of jou happy," she added, resting 
 her chin on the alhum she still held in her hands, 
 and gazing seriously at Gilmonr over the top of it. 
 
 *' Happy ! Who thinks of heing happy ? " cried 
 Gilmour. '* Happiness is for gods, not for mortals. 
 Still, I don't see why we shouldn't get on very well. 
 Ulu is a dear little soul." 
 
 '* Yes ; but " began Kate, interrupting him. 
 
 '' There are drawbacks, of course," Gilmour went 
 on. " Every woman has her drawbacks. In this 
 case the complexion, for instance." 
 
 '' Now, Mr. Gilmour, you are laughing at me," 
 cried Kate, hotly. '' That is too bad. I really 
 wanted to know about Ulu's progress." 
 
 "Well, I apologize, and will confess in all 
 seriousness that my quest for a ' soul ' has been 
 altogether a more dif&cult undertaking than I 
 could ever have anticipated." 
 
 *' You mean that you have failed, then ? " queried 
 Kate with her usual directness. 
 
 " N — no, not ' failed ' exactly ; but it is uphill 
 work, and — and progress is so very slow ; and the 
 fact of the matter is, that having got so far, I don't 
 quite know how to proceed further." 
 
 This was a decidedly mild way of stating the 
 case. Yet it was very natural that Gilmour, in 
 his present changeable state of mind, should not 
 all at once care to acknowledge to Kate the failure
 
 254 ULU. 
 
 of the scheme of which he had spoken to her at 
 Pepo-ni -svith so much enthusiasm ; indeed, as we 
 have ah'eady seen, it was only at times that he 
 would acknowledge it to himself. Practically he 
 had all along acted on the assumption that 
 he would one day marry Ulu, with the result of 
 occasional moments of self-delusion. Now, in his 
 heart of hearts, there was a strong and constant 
 conviction that such a marriage was impracticable, 
 and only when the anti-civilization demon had 
 possession of him did it please him to play with 
 the romantic fancy as if there was still a possibility 
 of its becoming fact. But opposition is a stimulus, 
 ridicule a goad that often drives us to defence both 
 against reason and inclination ; and to suspect, as 
 Gilmour now believed he had cause to suspect, 
 that Kate guessed the true state of his feelings, 
 and was inclined to regard his project as an idle 
 and perhaps absurd whim which could not too 
 soon be relinquished, was in itself enough to rouse 
 the obstinate inclination to defend it. It was too 
 much at least to avow himself beaten, even in 
 what he had been accustomed to regard as merely 
 the preliminary stage to marriage — Ulu's trans- 
 formation from the real savage he knew, to the 
 ideal savage he had dreamed of. Yet he knew 
 that he had been beaten; knew that he had 
 despaired ; knew, too, that it was to Kate he had
 
 ULU. 255 
 
 proposed to come for help as regards Ulu's welfare, 
 both spiritual and physical. And now that he was 
 beside Kate, and could read the interest in her deep, 
 earnest eyes, he felt — ^just as once in her jpresence 
 he had felt before — the most unaccountable dis- 
 inclination to tell her all the truth, and explain the 
 embarrassments of his position at Pepo-ni. Was 
 he afraid she would laugh, or afraid she would 
 misunderstand, or was he only afraid to seek to 
 transfer to another the burden that had proved too 
 much for him ? He did not know, and there was 
 no time to discuss the matter then, for Kate was 
 sitting there, all attention, evidently waiting for 
 him to say more. 
 
 ''Miss Kennedy," he began again abruptly, after 
 a moment's hesitating pause, " I should like to ask 
 a favour of you." 
 
 ** Yes ? " said Kate inquiringly, as Gilmour 
 hesitated again. 
 
 " Do you think you would mind having Ulu to 
 live with you for a time ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Kate, with a little gasp. 
 " I'm afraid " 
 
 " I thought," Gilmour went on, unmindful of the 
 interruption — " I thought perhaps you would be 
 able to make more of her than I can. You would 
 understand her better, and know better how to 
 appeal to her."
 
 256 ULU. 
 
 '^ Oh no ; indeed, I'm sure I shouldn't. You 
 have been longer in Africa than I ; you understand 
 the natives' ways better " 
 
 " But you are a woman, as Ulu is." 
 
 *'Yes, but I should be afraid — I mean, supposing 
 I did have some influence with her — she mightn't 
 
 turn out exactly "Well, in plain English, I 
 
 don't like the responsibility of making a man's 
 wife to order ; " and Kate looked up at Gilmour with 
 a comical expression of mingled perplexity and 
 amusement. 
 
 *' Oh, I didn't mean to ask you to do that," 
 exclaimed Gilmour, laughing in spite of himself. 
 '* Make Ulu anything you like, or perhaps I should 
 say, anything you can." 
 
 " And you will be content to accept her at my 
 hands?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And marry her right away ? " 
 
 ''Well, that depends, you know." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Gilmour," interrupted Kate, '' I really 
 cannot conceive of you marrying Ulu, however at- 
 tractive she might become. Now, seriously, do 
 you think you ever will ? " 
 
 '' Sometimes I think ' yes,' and sometimes 
 'no.' On the whole, I think I incline towards 
 'yes.' 
 
 " I don't believe it. You are just laughing at
 
 ULU. .257 
 
 me. If you do, 3^011 must certainly continue lier 
 education yourself." 
 
 ''But, Miss Kennedy," urged Gilmour, ''that is 
 really impossible. Circumstances have arisen at 
 Pepo-ni — the women there, they are jealous of 
 Ulu. The poor child hasn't the life of a dog with 
 them." 
 
 " Oh, that is another matter." 
 
 " And a very serious matter ! If I don't find 
 a comfortable home for her, I must marry her at 
 once, which " 
 
 "Which, to say the least of it, would not be 
 advisable," exclaimed Kate, with an arch look which 
 seemed to say that Gilmour needn't make pretences 
 any longer, for he couldn't deceive her, nor shake 
 her conviction that he never would marry Ulu 
 either " at once " or later on. 
 
 " Well, we must ask papa about it after dinner," 
 she concluded. " See, here he [comes; " and, with 
 a sympathetic ''Poor old dear, how pale and tired 
 you look ! " Kate took her father's arm and led the 
 way into the house. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 258 ULU. 
 
 CHAPTEK XIX. 
 
 The little party which assembled round the dinner - 
 table that evening was a jDarticularly bright and 
 happy one. Over the social meal Mr. Kennedy 
 forgot the doubts and prejudices awakened in his 
 mind at Pepo-ni by the coldness with which Gil- 
 mour had received his proposed scheme for the 
 extension of his missionary labours, and by that 
 young man's scornful criticism of the results of 
 mission work in general among the natives of 
 Africa. Though partly dispelled by Gilmour's 
 after-kindness and frank hospitality, these doubts 
 had from time to time recurred, always to be 
 ardently combated by Kate, who constantly main- 
 tained that Mr. Gilmour's real nature came out, 
 not in his words, which were undeniably thought- 
 less and violent, but in his acts, which, equally 
 undeniably, had been friendly and considerate. 
 Unconsciously, by his attitude of quiet attention 
 during their stroll that afternoon, Gilmour had
 
 ULU. 259 
 
 done much in the missionary's eyes to add to the 
 force of Kate's arguments; and now, as we have 
 said, all prejudices were for the time forgotten, and 
 Mr. Kennedy was simply and solely the cordial 
 host, anxious to make his guest feel at ease and at 
 home. Kate, on her part, felt quite in her element, 
 having some one to entertain. More especially 
 was it a pleasure to her to entertain Gilmour, on 
 w^hom she looked as a sort of protege, in virtue of 
 her by him unsuspected championship. As he 
 made himself agreeable to one and the other, chat- ^ 
 ting and laughing pleasantly over the missionary's 
 quiet jokes or her own more lively sallies, Kate was 
 conscious of a feeling of secret pride and triumph, 
 as if Gilmour were some one for whose good be- 
 haviour she was in a manner responsible, and 
 whose credit in acquitting himself well redounded 
 to her own. As for Gilmour, he was sm-prised to 
 find how rapidly he was again thawing under *'the 
 Em'opean influence," and becoming oblivious alike 
 of his troubles and his cynicism in the desire to 
 please and to be pleased which lies at the root of 
 all harmonious social intercourse. When he after- 
 wards remembered how he had actually been guilty 
 of recalling for Kate's benefit some of the more 
 pleasant, and even ludicrous, experiences of his 
 school and college career, he fairly blushed to think 
 how determinedly he had persisted in forgetting
 
 260 ULU. 
 
 them for so long, and looking Lack upon Ids past 
 as if it consisted solely of bitterness and disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 After dinner, the merr}^ trio, all talk and laughter,, 
 adjom-ned to the porch " to sip coffee and smoke 
 the pipe of peace," as Kate put it — '' ^vhich means, 
 you know," she added, handing Mr. Kennedy his- 
 tobacco, "that papa smokes, and we inhale." 
 
 " Don't you object to the inhalation, Misi^ 
 Kennedy ? " queried Gilmour. 
 
 '' Kate object ! " exclaimed the missionary, before 
 his daughter had time to reply. '' Not a bit. She 
 enjoys it as much as I do the smoking. I have all 
 the trouble, and the pleasure is mutual. Isn't that 
 it, Kitty? " and Mr. Kennedy gave Kate a knowing 
 little look out of the corners of his e^-es. 
 
 Kate laughed. "Are you shocked at my de- 
 praved taste, Mr. Gilmour? " she asked. " I con- 
 fess to a decided weakness for tobacco." 
 
 " Oh, Kate, Kate ! " cried her father, solemnly 
 shaking his head. " I tremble to think to what 
 nicotian depths you would have sunk had you been 
 a man ! " 
 
 " No fear of that, papa. "What I like about 
 tobacco is its homelike fragrance." 
 
 "Oh, Miss Kennedy, what a libel on our Scottish 
 atmosphere ! " cried Gilmour. 
 
 "Bother the 'Scottish atmosphere,' Mr. Gil-
 
 ULU. 261 
 
 monr ! I mean home really— uncle's home. See," 
 Kate went on dreamily, leaning her elbows on the 
 arm of her father's chaii*, and resting her chin on 
 her clasped hands, while with her eyes she fol- 
 lowed the blue smoke -wreaths as they curled up- 
 wards. '' Whenever I see the smoke going up and 
 up like that, I seem to be back in the dear old 
 place, with uncle puffing away in his armchair by 
 the fireside, and acting as arbiter for Dodo and me 
 in some of our hot disputes as to whether the 
 bacilli of tubercle are the cause, or only tha 
 concomitant, of consumption, or • " 
 
 ''My dear child," interrupted Mr. Kennedy, 
 '' this is positively gruesome ! I shall certainly 
 put out my pipe, if it is to conjure up visions of 
 dead arguments and dead bacilli, and " 
 
 ''Oh, but we liked the arguments, and we liked 
 the bacilli; it was such fun hunting for them 
 under the microscope. Don't you see, papa, it's 
 all the old home life and the old home people 
 the smoke brings back to me. ' The Den ' was 
 always full of smoke. With uncle and Dodo and 
 the other boys all puffing away, what else could 
 it be ? " 
 
 " By the other boys," put in Gilmour, '' I suppose 
 you mean some of those handsome young fellows I 
 saw in your album to-day. Miss Kennedy ? " 
 
 " Yes. We were quite a little debating society.
 
 262 ULU. 
 
 No two of us could be together for half an hour 
 without getting into some desperate wrangle or 
 other." 
 
 " No wonder you are so good at sticking up for 
 your own ideas, if that's the sort of training you've 
 had, Kate ! " cried Kennedy. " That old uncle of 
 yours was much too lax in his discipline, I'm afraid. 
 I must institute a sterner rule at once ; only there's 
 no one here for you to argue wdth, except myself, 
 and I have always to give in most ignominiously, 
 for the sake of peace. Perhaps Mr. Gilmour, now — 
 he needn't be deterred by fear of domestic broils ; 
 he might " 
 
 *'0h no, thank you!" interrupted Gilmour 
 hastily, with an assumed air of dread. " I abso- 
 lutely decline to enter the lists against a lady. 
 Man's clumsy weapons are of no avail — — " 
 
 '' ' Against th' all-conquering fire of woman's 
 eye '— is that what you w^ere going to say, Mr. 
 Gilmour? " asked Kennedy, with a smile. "Kate, 
 my dear," he continued, turning to his daughter, 
 who still seemed lost in watching the curling smoke- 
 wreaths, and evidently had been paying no attention 
 to what had just been said, "here's an easy victim 
 for you, if you want one. Or does that rapt ex- 
 pression mean that in fancy you are even now 
 * fighting your battles o'er again ' ? Come, wake 
 up, little woman. If you want to indulge in a
 
 ULU. 263 
 
 home reverie, give us some home music, and put 
 us all in sympathy -with you." 
 
 '* Yes, please do, Miss Kennedy," urged Gilmour. 
 " It seems an age since I heard any one sing ! " 
 
 With a sigh of regret for the airy vision the 
 request had dispelled, Kate rose and bade two of 
 the *'boys" go down to the church and bring up 
 the harmonium. 
 
 *' Can I be of any assistance ? " inquired Gil- 
 mour. 
 
 '' Oh no, Mr. Gilmour, thank you ; don't trouble. 
 Ferjallah will manage it all right. The instrument 
 is neither very large nor very valuable, as you 
 would doubtless observe." 
 
 '' ' Be content with such things as ye have,' 
 Kate," quoted Mr. Kennedy, with a touch of rebuke 
 in his tone. 
 
 " Oh, so I am, papa dear," answered Kate airily. 
 ** Better is a portable harmonium and contentment 
 therewith, than a Bechstein grand piano without 
 means of transport. There's a new proverb for 
 you, now, to which I will add the confession that I 
 look upon the little instrument we have here as 
 our greatest domestic treasm-e. Indeed, I don't 
 know what we should have done without it, if only 
 as something for me to grumble at — eh, papa?" 
 and Kate looked mischievously at her father, as if 
 defying him to look grave any longer.
 
 264 ULU. 
 
 The missionary sighed and shook his head, \\'ith 
 a resigned air, which seemed to say he knew only 
 too well how useless it was to remonstrate with his 
 sprightly daughter in one of her wilful moods. 
 Then he a^^plied himself to relighting his pipe, 
 which he had inadvertently allowed to go out ; and 
 Kate, without waiting to hear what would come 
 next, turned and entered the sitting-room to pre- 
 pare a place for the harmonium against the time 
 of its arrival. Gilmour followed ; and as soon as 
 the instrument had been brought in and placed in 
 the position Kate had selected as most suitable, he 
 settled himself comfoi'tably in a low basket-chair 
 and waited expectantly. 
 
 '' What shall I sing, I wonder ? " mused Kate 
 aloud, as she seated herself, and pulled out one or 
 two stops. " Mr. Gilmour, have you any choice *? " 
 
 *'None whatever. Anything that i)leases you 
 will please me." 
 
 "Very accommodating. H'm ! let me see;" 
 and Kate's fingers wandered idly over the keyboard 
 in a series of disjointed chords of phrases. 
 
 At length, softly and as if to herself, she com- 
 menced playing the air of *' The Auld House," 
 and, almost before Gilmour had time to recognize 
 the simple strain, the dear old words broke 
 familiarly on his ears, borne low and sweet on 
 the wings of Kate's pure, full soprano voice.
 
 VLU. 265 
 
 " Ob, the aukl house, the auld house, 
 
 What tho' the rooms were wee ; 
 Oh ! kind hearts were dwelliu' there, 
 
 And bairnies fu' o* glee. 
 The wiki rose and the jasamin 
 
 Still hang upon the wa' ; 
 How mony cherished memories 
 
 Do they, sweet flowers, rcca'." 
 
 So she sang, with an amount of feeling that 
 spoke vohimes of her own intense fondness for her 
 childhood's home, and woke responsive echoes in 
 the heart alike of ^Ir. Kennedy and Gilmour, who 
 sat mute and motionless in rapt appreciation. 
 
 " Oh, don't stop, please," cried the latter, as, 
 after finishing the song, Kate ceased playing, and 
 seemed about to rise from the harmonium. ^' After 
 ao many months of silence, it's such a treat to 
 hear singing, especially such singing." 
 
 Kate smiled and bowed with mock courtesy in 
 acknowledgment of the implied compliment, and 
 had just settled herself back on her chair, when 
 her father appeared in the doorway, holding Ulu 
 by the hand. Attracted by the music, the little 
 maid, who had spent the greater part of the after- 
 noon inspecting the wonders of the mission station 
 under the guardianship of a gu'l convert of about 
 her own age, had speedily found her way to the 
 porch, and now, under Mr. Kennedy's protection, 
 came shyly forward to take up her position on the 
 floor close to Gilmour' s chair.
 
 26G ULU. 
 
 " Here is another listener for you, Kate/' cried 
 Mr. Kennedy, as lie crossed the room. *' Now 
 let's have something more lively," he added, after 
 he had seen Ulu comfortably established ; " some- 
 thing stirring — a Jacobite song, for instance. You'll 
 make us all homesick and youthsick together, if 
 you pour forth other people's memories so x^lain- 
 tively ; " and the missionary sighed rather sadly^ 
 as he threw himself on a lounge and wearily closed 
 bis eyes. 
 
 He, too, had his fits of restless longing for 
 home scenes and home friends, recently become 
 all the more intense from the constant presence 
 of his home-loving daughter. Not that Kate ever 
 spoke much to her father of her old life, incessantly 
 as it was in her thoughts. At first her conver- 
 sation had been of nothing else ; but she soon 
 noticed how, at the name of this or that friend, or 
 an allusion to this or that place, his eye would first 
 brighten and then dim, as if the memory of once 
 familiar scenes and faces brought more of shadow 
 than of sunlight in its train. Another, and per- 
 haps deeper, reason prompting her to silence lay 
 in the feeling that her father perceived the strong 
 hold which the keenly intellectual life and varied 
 interests of European society had upon her heart, 
 and, in his intense love and tender solicitude for 
 her happiness, was inclined to uj)braid himself for
 
 ULU. 267 
 
 having asked her for a time to forego it. Once or 
 twice, when she had sjDoken regretfully of her 
 interrupted studies, she had marked the look of 
 deep self-reproach that crossed his face, and, 
 keenly alive to the possibility of wounding the 
 feelings of those she loved, she had secretly re- 
 solved thenceforth to allude as little to her past life 
 as possible. On the whole, she had kept her 
 resolve faii'ly well, and latterly had even succeeded 
 in making her father believe that she was content 
 in her new surroundings. To-night, however, her 
 recent conversation with Gilmour — the contact with 
 a mind which, in some strange, undefinable way, 
 she felt was in sympathy with her own — had 
 brought an irresistible inrush of the old home 
 memories, to which she had given unconscious 
 utterance in the song she had chosen. Her 
 father's words, and the sigh by which they were 
 accompanied, at once recalled her to herself ; and, 
 all anxiety to atone for the pain she had unin- 
 tentionally caused, she sprang up to arrange the 
 cushions under his head, and imprint a little 
 penitent kiss on his withered cheek. Rewarded by 
 a grateful look and a pleased smile, Kate once 
 more resumed her place at the harmonium, where 
 for more than an hour she continued to sit playing 
 and singing as her fancy prompted, now some 
 gallant lilt of love or war, again a plaintive
 
 268 ULU. 
 
 l)allad, a song of Burns, or a thrilling lay of the 
 tlays of '^Eoyal Charlie." 
 
 The great charm of Kate's singing was that it 
 was not in any sense a performance. There was 
 no striving for effect, no attempt at display. She 
 had a fine voice, and it had heen well trained ; yet 
 so simple and natm-al was her mode of expression, 
 that in listening to her singing one lost all sense of 
 its being an accomplishment, and thought of it 
 only as a gift. She did not sing for her audience, 
 it seemed, but for the soul that had yearned in 
 love or burned with loyalty, for the heart that had 
 broken in sorrow or leaped in eager anticipation of 
 joy, and, finding no outlet save in passionate song, 
 had placed its burden in music on h^r lips. Her 
 message was from the heart to the heart, and to 
 Gilmour it was as if she knew how to touch its 
 every string. 
 
 That evening she sang mostly songs of Scotland, 
 such as she knew her father loved and appreciated. 
 She had just concluded a soft, crooning Highland 
 lullaby, when, looking up, she perceived that Mr. 
 Kennedy, tired out with the various labours of the 
 day, had dropped off to sleep, and that Ulu, lulled 
 by the music, seemed about to follow his example. 
 Gilmour alone w^as wide awake, and he, to all ap- 
 pearance, was not thinking of Kate, but was lost in 
 the thoughts her singing had awakened. For
 
 ULU. 269 
 
 some minutes, herself absorbed in sweet home 
 memories, Kate played on dreamily, heedless of 
 what she played. At length, almost miconsciously 
 it appeared, she broke into the air of '' Home,. 
 sweet Home," voice and fingers combining in sub- 
 dued, delicious harmony, to give expression to the 
 thoughts that overflowed her heart. Never had 
 Gilmour heard the song so well sung. The genuine 
 feeling thrown into the simple words and familiar 
 melody seemed to inspire them with new life and 
 a fresh power of appeal. He felt strangely moved 
 — moved not to a mere passing wish to be once 
 more in Europe, but to a dee^D, true longing for 
 home, such, indeed, as he had never known it, but 
 many a time in his happier days had dreamed it 
 might be — a place of rest from care and trouble ; 
 a place of joy in S3'mpath3' and love ; a place of 
 strengthening for the weary, constant strife that 
 lay outside it. 
 
 The song finished, Kate sat silent for a moment, 
 with downcast eyes and fingers resting with a 
 loving, lingering touch on the concluding chord. 
 
 '*0h, Mr. Gilmour," she exclaimed at length, 
 suddenly turning round, and speaking in a low 
 voice that trembled with suppressed emotion, ^' I 
 never knew how ^ sweet ' home was until I had to 
 leave it ! You, too," she went on, clasping her 
 hands and gazing with earnest eyes into her com-
 
 270 ULU. 
 
 panion's face — " you, too, must often have known 
 the bitterness of Heimiceh in this lonely land." 
 
 *' No, not often — not perhaps until to-night — 
 until your singing made me realize what home 
 really meant, and how much I lost by having 
 none." 
 
 '^You don't mean to say you have literally no 
 home?" cried Kate, a look of intense pity in her 
 eyes, an accent of profound astonishment in her 
 voice, as if the boundless misery of such a position 
 were something she could not at once grasp. 
 '' Surely somewhere you have relatives or friends 
 to whom you can look for sympathy and interest ; 
 who think as you think and feel as you feel ; who 
 hope and wish and work with you in everything, 
 and so help you towards happiness and content ? " 
 
 "No," said Gilmour, with a heavy sigh; "I 
 have no such friends. Once I believed I had," he 
 went on bitterly, the old resentful feeling rising in 
 his heart ; "but I was disappointed. Now I am 
 content to be without them, knowing for what their 
 friendship is worth." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Gilmour, that is not right," cried 
 Kate, a pained look on her face. "Have you lost 
 all belief in the possibility of genuine friendship 
 because you have once been disappointed ? " 
 
 " Not once, but many times," corrected Gilmour ; 
 " and the experience has been too trying for me to
 
 ULU. 271 
 
 care to risk a repetition of it. You have not come 
 through it, or you would feel as I do." 
 
 " No," Kate answered ] ''1 have not come through 
 it, and I think I never shall — not, at least, with 
 those whose friendship I value most at present. 
 They could not disappoint or deceive me. But, 
 even if they did," she continued, with proud con- 
 fidence, *'I should still believe there were others in 
 the world capable of being sincere " 
 
 ''You have not been tried; you do not know 
 how difficult it is." 
 
 "I should only know," Kate went on, heedless 
 of the interruption, ''there was less truth, less 
 goodness in the world than I had supposed ; and 
 though the discovery might sadden, it would not 
 embitter me. Perhaps," she added wistfully, " if 
 one has to make such a discovery in one's lifetime, 
 it is as well to make it soon, and get rid of one's 
 rosy suppositions ; they play havoc with all one's 
 happiness. We should get through life with fewer 
 disappointments, if we could enter it with fewer 
 preconceived ideas." 
 
 "Do you think so? Well, I say if yo\xx 'pre- 
 conceived ideas ' are at all pleasant, best continue 
 in them as long as the world will let you." 
 
 " By which you mean that their existence would 
 be extremely brief, I suppose ? " Kate replied, 
 smiling, in spite of herself, at Gilmour's persistent
 
 272 VLU. 
 
 cynicism, which she had now quite made up her 
 mind was not natural to him. " Well, the 
 briefer the better, say I, so long as they are not 
 in accordance with fact. It is the arrogance of our 
 expectations that lies at the root of most of the 
 common talk about ' disappointment in life ' and 
 ' disappointment in human nature.' We enter upon 
 the world full of our own conception of what it is ; 
 and if the world does not exactly fulfil it — well, it 
 is the world, and not the conception, that is at 
 fault. In one sense perhaps it is ; conceptions 
 usually do not err in falling short of the reality ; 
 but, unfortunately, it is the reality we have 
 eventually to deal with, and the sooner we succeed 
 in making the one fit the other the fewer chances 
 have we of being disappointed." 
 
 " But life would not be worth living, if we hadn't 
 our youthful illusions to cast a glamour over it." 
 
 "Well, no," answered Kate, rather hesitating^, 
 with a half-arch, half-deprecating look; ''not, at 
 least, if their eventual dissipation were to lead to 
 the formation of such pessimistic views as yoiu's, 
 Mr. Gilmour. But, to my mind," she went on, 
 ''these are even more 'conceptions' to be got rid 
 of, than the too rosy illusions I spoke of a moment 
 ago. I don't know what has led to this develop- 
 ment of the pessimistic tendency in you; but of 
 one thing I am sure — it is not normal. I should
 
 ULU. 273 
 
 say your early views of life had been exceptionally 
 rosy. You over-estimated its j)ossibilities and 
 miscalculated your own powers of achievement, 
 with the result that contact with reality has driven 
 you to the oj^posite extreme, and made you under- 
 estimate both." 
 
 " No ; I think that now I see things just as thej^ 
 are — evil and false and hideous, for the most part 
 — and plainly recognize that I am too weak to do 
 anything to make them better." 
 
 " Oh no, Mr. Gilmour ; things are not ' evil and 
 false and hideous, for the most part.' Quite the 
 reverse ; only what is good and true, and beautiful 
 we take as a matter of course, and the other we 
 resent as an injury. Just look at the individual 
 life. We never count health and sunshine and 
 fresh air as special items in our sum of hapj)iness. 
 We have such boundless ideas of our rights, such 
 limited conceptions of our privileges, that these 
 ' common ' things we take for granted. But let 
 any one of them be even temporarily withdrawn, 
 and what a misery we make of it. There is no 
 more any pleasure in existence; life is all black 
 because of the one black cloud. So, too, in regard 
 to life in the wider sense — social life. We take no 
 count of the general good faith and mutual help- 
 fulness that holds society together ; but let us 
 come across one or two instances of deceit and 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 ULU, 
 
 strife and wickedness, and immediately we fasten 
 down on these, and raise the cry that society is 
 essentially false, and human nature essentially 
 corrupt; all is vice, all is vanity." 
 
 "In short," interrupted Gilmour, bitterly, "we 
 get into a mood of universal disgust with every- 
 thing and everybody, ourselves included ; and once 
 we've got in, there's no getting out, as I can vouch 
 from sad experience." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Gilmour, don't talk like that," cried 
 Kate, looking excessively grieved. " There is 
 getting out ; I am sure of it. I suppose it was in 
 some such mood as that you left Europe. It was 
 not right. You should have stayed and fought it 
 down. I don't believe the indulgence of such 
 moods is ever right, and yet — and yet," she went 
 on hesitatingly, "it seems to be only the best 
 sorts of people who get into them. They are a 
 disease ; but it is the disease of a sensitive, noble 
 nature — a nature intolerant of evil, capable of that 
 ' divine discontent ' of which we once spoke before ; 
 a nature " 
 
 "But the cure. Miss Kennedy, the cure! " in- 
 terrupted Gilmour, impatiently. 
 
 " Work — effort," was the laconic response. 
 
 "Work! Effort! And pray where is one to 
 get work here ? I couldn't be a missionary, could 
 I?" and Gilmour smiled grimly, as if in moody
 
 ULU, 275 
 
 satisfaction at the utter hopelessness of the 
 outlook. 
 
 '* No, I certainly don't think you could," returned 
 Kate with emphasis, an odd expression of mingled 
 pity and amusement flitting across her face. " But 
 you could go back to Europe," she went on gravely. 
 *' You ought never to have left it." 
 
 *' And what could I do when I got there ? " 
 
 " Strive towards the achievement of some of 
 those ideals of which you dreamed before the 
 despondent mood came upon you." 
 
 *' But did you not say a little while ago that we 
 should be content with the real, and not deceive 
 ourselves with ideals ? " 
 
 " Certainly not. I said, or meant to say, we 
 ought to get a full and clear knowledge of the real, 
 and not cheat ourselves with any of our own 
 specious suppositions about it; my reason for so 
 saying being that I believe the recognition of the 
 real to be the only true basis for the realization of 
 the ideal. As for being content, that is something 
 very different. It is then a question of what things 
 ought to be, not merely of what they are. To 
 lessen the disparity that may exist between these 
 two conditions is the highest achievement of which 
 human effort is capable." 
 
 " Yes, but how hopeless that is. One might work 
 a lifetime and never see any appreciable result."
 
 276 ULU. 
 
 " That is no reason why we should not try. 
 After all, it is the effort, not the result, that concerns 
 us most. That we should strive is the main thing — 
 strive to do, strive to perform our functions as living 
 beings, as long as we claim the privilege of life." 
 
 '' Yes, but why ? What is the good of it all ? " 
 
 ^' To prove that you are a man, and not a clod 
 or a parasite, if nothing more," retorted Kate 
 hotly, a little exasperated at Gilmour's persistent 
 objections. 
 
 Gilmour looked up sharply, astonished not only 
 at the somewhat incomprehensible answer he had 
 received, but at the tone in which it had been 
 delivered. 
 
 " I'm afraid I don't understand." 
 
 "And I don't know if I can explain," answered 
 Kate, looking apologetic, and blushing brightly 
 under Gilmour's look of surprised inquiry. " What 
 I think is this," she went on, with grave earnest- 
 ness. " The capacity for doing, for work, for 
 activity constitutes the great distinction between a 
 living being and dead matter. In the social body 
 each member has its allotted place and function. 
 To refuse to fill that place and exercise that 
 function is to become as if paralyzed, atrophied, 
 dead. In other words, the man who recognizes 
 there is work to do, and yet puts forth no hand to 
 do it, is, as regards his usefulness in the world, no
 
 ULU. 277 
 
 better than a clod. Yet it is not possible for this 
 useless member absolutely to isolate himself ; and 
 inasmuch as he still retains some connection with 
 the social body, he shares in the results of the 
 activities of all its other members — preys upon their 
 life ; in short, is in this sense a parasite. He 
 takes the good achieved by others and gives them 
 nothing in return." 
 
 *' Well, at least my timely flight has saved me 
 from the latter form of degeneration. If I don't do 
 the world any good here, I certainly don't do it any 
 harm." 
 
 " Are you quite sure of that ? You recognized 
 that there was work to be done, good to be effected ; 
 3^et, because the work was hard and you were alone 
 and weak, you put yourself beyond the possibility 
 of accomplishing even a little. The world is so 
 much the worse for want of the good you might 
 have poured into it, and for the presence of the 
 evil you might have filtered out of it." 
 
 Gilmour made no rejoly. This was an aspect 
 of bis responsibilities as a human being that had 
 not before struck him. For a few moments there 
 was silence, during which Gilmour lay back in his 
 chair, lost in gloomy abstraction, while Kate sat 
 watching him with troubled brow and doubting 
 heart, fearful that her words had wounded where 
 they were meant only to stir.
 
 278 ULU. 
 
 " Have I offended you, Mr. Gilmour ? " she asked 
 at last, bending forward and lifting a pair of 
 
 beseeching eyes to his. *'I am afraid I " she 
 
 went on hesitatingly, a strange lump rising in her 
 throat — ^'1 am afraid I may have said " 
 
 *' Oh no, Miss Kennedy, not at all," interposed 
 Gilmour, rousing himself hastily, as he noticed 
 Kate's agitation. ** You have said nothing but 
 what you ought to have said. Don't imagine I 
 was offended. I was only set thinking. It never 
 occurred to me before that not to do good in the 
 world was to do evil. I prided myself on my 
 
 harmless passivity, and now — and now Oh, 
 
 what a fool I have been ! " he exclaimed, passionately 
 interrupting himself. "Loafing about here in 
 selfish idleness ; not only doing nothing for others 
 myself, but sneering at those who were honestly 
 doing their best ; not only " 
 
 '' Hush, Mr. Gilmour, hush ! " cried Kate, 
 touched by Gilmour's agitation ; and, stooping 
 forward, she laid a soothing hand on his arm, as 
 if thereby she would have stayed the tumultuous 
 flood of self-reproach now let loose within him. 
 '' See, you have awakened Ulu," she went on, as a 
 warning rustle reminded them that they were not 
 alone; ''and papa, too," she added, almost with 
 an air of relief; for the tension was fast becoming 
 too great, and, if something had not occurred to
 
 ULU. 279 
 
 relieve it Kate felt conscious she must inevitably 
 have given way to her excited feelings in tears. 
 
 *'Why, Kitty, have you stopped playing so 
 soon ? " cried Mr. Kennedy, as soon as he was 
 rightly awake. **Dear me ! I had no idea it was 
 so late," he added, as he looked at his watch. ^' I 
 must have been dozing." 
 
 "Yes, papa, jou have been sleeping as sound as 
 a top for the last hour and more," exclaimed Kate, 
 forcing a smile and a cheerful voice. " Don't you 
 think it's time we were all in bed ? " 
 
 " Just one more song — ' Auld Lang Syne.' " 
 
 " Oh no, papa. Not to-night, please ; I am too 
 tired," pleaded Kate. '' And Mr. Gilmour — I am 
 sure he is tired too," she went on, turning to 
 bestow on Gilmour, who now sat silent and distrait, 
 a glance of sympathetic meaning that seemed to 
 say she knew how much he wished to be alone. 
 
 " Well, well, then, never mind a song," said Mr. 
 Kennedy, rising to cross the room and to take his 
 stand by the harmonium. "We'll have a psalm 
 instead. Play the ' Old Hundredth,' Kate, and 
 we'll sing it all together." 
 
 Kate obeyed. As her rich voice mingled with 
 the missionary's quavering tones in the solemn 
 invitation of the first lines, Gilmour instinctively 
 rose to his feet and joined in the singing with a 
 full heart. As he went on a peaceful feeling once
 
 280 VLU. 
 
 more stole over him, and when, at the end of the 
 psalm, Kate stood up and bent her searching eyes 
 upon him as she turned to say " Good night," it 
 was with a voice full of deep meaning that he said 
 in shaking hands — 
 
 '' Good night, Miss Kennedy ; and thank you — 
 thank you — very much." 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BT WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
 
 UNIVEHSrTY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
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