gh the round wattle
of mud huts with their circular thatched roofs.

The African Chief, Sekhome--who was the head of this Bamangwato tribe
and who was also a noted witch-doctor--started out along the southward
trail to meet the white man. By his side ran his eldest son. He was a
lithe, blithe boy; his chocolate coloured skin shone and the muscles
rippled as he trotted along. He was so swift that his name was the
name of the antelope that gallops across the veldt. Cama is what the
Bamangwato call the antelope. Khama is how we spell the boy's name.

He gazed in wonder as he saw a sturdy man wearing clothes such as he
had not seen before--what we call coat and hat, trousers and boots.
He looked into the bronzed face of the white man and saw that his eyes
and mouth were kind. Together they walked back into the village. Chief
Sekhome found that the white man's name was David Livingstone; and
that he was a kind doctor who could make boys and men better when they
were ill, with medicines out of a black japanned box.

When evening came the boy Khama saw the strange white man open another
box and take out a curious thing which seemed to open yet was full of
hundreds and hundreds of leaves. Khama had never seen such a thing
in his life and he could not understand why Livingstone opened it
and kept looking at it for a long time, for he had never seen a book
before and did not even know what letters were or what reading was.

It seemed wonderful to him when he heard that that book could speak
to Livingstone without making any sound and that it told him about
the One Infinite, Holy, Loving God, Who is Father of all men, black or
brown or white, and Whose Son, Jesus Christ, came to teach us all to
love God and to love one another. For the book was the Bible which
Livingstone all through his heroic exploring of Africa read each day.

So Livingstone passed on from the village; but this boy Khama never
forgot him, and in time--as we shall see--other white men came and
taught Khama himself to read that same book and worship that same God.

_The Fight with the Lion_

Meanwhile strange adventures came to the growing young Khama. This is
the story of some of them:

The leaping flames of a hunting camp-fire threw upon the dark
background of thorn trees weird shadows of the men who squatted in a
circle on the ground, talking.

The men were all Africans, the picked hunters from the tribe of the
Bamangwato. They were out on the spoo