e man departed to seek a leopard, but while he was absent
Maranda, from her tree, saw a canoe on the river with two young
fishermen in it, and she screamed loudly for help. The fishermen
paddled close ashore and found that it was Sukila's daughter, the wife
of Mafala, who was alone on a tall tree. They waited long enough to
hear her story, and then returned to the village to obtain assistance.

Busandiya was much astonished to hear the fishermen's news, and
forthwith sent a war-canoe full of armed men, led by the father, Sukila,
to rescue her. By means of rattan-climbers they contrived to reach her,
and to bring her down safely. While some of the war-party set out to
discover Mafala, the others watched for the crocodile and the two
serpents. In a short time the cruel man was seen and caught, and he was
brought to the river-side, bound with green withes. His legs and his
arms were firmly tied together, and, after the Basoko had made Maranda
repeat her story from the beginning, and Sukila had told the manner of
the marriage, they searched for great stones, which they fastened to his
neck; and, lifting him into the war-canoe, they paddled into the middle
of the stream, where they sang a death-chant; after which they dropped
Mafala overboard and he was never heard of more. That is all there is
of the story of Maranda.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE STORY OF KITINDA AND HER WISE DOG.

On another night Baruti, whose memory was freshened by the reward which
followed a story worthy of being written in the Master's book, told us
about Kitinda and her wise dog, so well indeed that by common consent he
was acclaimed one of the best among the story-tellers.

But it was not so well rehearsed to me while I had my pencil in hand as
he had delivered it at the camp fire. It bothered him to be asked to
dictate it a little slower to me, and he showed marked signs of
inattention when told to repeat a sentence twice over. All I can
flatter myself is that it contains the sense of what was said.

Kitinda, a woman of the Basoko, near the Aruwimi river, possessed a dog
who was remarkable for his intelligence. It was said that he was so
clever that strangers understood his motions as well as though he talked
to them; and that Kitinda, familiar with his ways and the tones of his
whines, his yelps, and his barks, could converse with him as easily as
she could with her husband.

One market-day the mistress and her dog agreed to go togeth