Passing through a little clump of bush we came to some gardens
surrounded by a light fence through which a number of cattle of a
small and delicate breed--they were not unlike Jerseys in appearance--
had broken to enjoy themselves by devouring the crops. This garden, it
appeared, belonged to the Kalubi for the time being, who was furious
at the destruction of its produce by the cattle which also belonged to
him.
"Where is the herd?" he shouted.
A hunt began--and presently the poor fellow--he was no more than a
lad, was discovered asleep behind a bush. When he was dragged before
him the Kalubi pointed, first to the cattle, then to the broken fence
and the devastated garden. The lad began to mutter excuses and pray
for mercy.
"Kill him!" said the Kalubi, whereon the herd flung himself to the
ground, and clutching him by the ankles, began to kiss his feet,
crying out that he was afraid to die. The Kalubi tried to kick himself
free, and failing in this, lifted his big spear and made an end of the
poor boy's prayers and life at a single stroke.
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