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young Basa.
    ‘I know who you are,’ said the young African. ‘You were brought here to stop the killing of men. You have not stopped it. You allowed my father to be killed.’
    Hal tried to explain. ‘We did what we could. The lion came first into our tent.’
    ‘So you had a chance to shoot it. Why didn’t you shoot it?’
    ‘It knocked our revolver out of reach.’
    Young Basa snorted. ‘That is a poor excuse. Your gun should be always with you.’
    ‘You are right,’ admitted Hal. He was beginning to feel very guilty about the whole thing.
    ‘Then what?’ demanded Basa.
    ‘The lion attacked my brother. He blinded it with flour.’
    ‘And you—’ said Basa. ‘Why weren’t you getting your gun while this was going on?’
    Hal didn’t like being quizzed by this angry young man, but he kept his temper.
    ‘It all happened so fast. The lion grabbed a pillow and ran out.’
    ‘So you had a good chance to get your guns.’
    ‘We got them and jumped out. The lion was already dragging your father out of the next tent.’
    ‘I have heard you,’ snapped Basa. ‘It is as if you had murdered him. I should kill you now. But that must wait until my father is in his grave.’
    Poor fellow, thought Hal, he’s upset. That’s what makes him so unreasonable.
    But while he tried to put the blame on young Basa. he was painfully aware that he and his brother had bungled this thing very badly. Great hunters, they were! Couldn’t even pot a cat when it walked in and asked to be killed. He felt a burning sense of shame.
    And a certain fear, for he knew Basa’s words were not just words. It was a tradition of this land that a son must not rest until he had avenged the death of his father.
    Hal seemed to be collecting enemies instead of friends. Now he had to watch four ways. He needed eyes on four sides of his head - a pair to look for man-eaters, another pair for King Ku who appeared to have some sort of grudge against him, a pair for Tanga who was under Ku’s orders, and a pair that really should be focused night and day on angry young Basa.
    No, not four pairs, but five. There must be one more enemy. Who had loosened the flaps of the tent so the lion could enter? He was sure they had been firmly tied before they went to bed.
    The flaps of the next tent were also loose - but that was because the lion’s roars had brought a man from that tent to join the rest who came out to see what all the roaring was about. Then the lion had plunged in to seize Basa’s father.
    But that didn’t explain why Hal’s tent flaps were open. A lion could not untie knots - then who had done this, and why?

Chapter 7
The sorehead
    Young Basa strode into the camp of the railway men and stood looking down upon his father.
    His black face seemed to become even blacker with grief and anger.
    Then he picked up the body, slung it over his powerful young shoulders, and, without a word to anyone, went off up the trail to his village.
    The men were having their breakfast around open-air fires. Soon they would be going to work on the tracks. Hal’s eye wandered over them and he wondered sadly which one of them would be taken today.
    Then, far down the campground beyond all the black workers he thought he saw a white face. Who could that be? Hal decided he would go down and say hello. He liked the Africans well enough but it would be pleasant to talk with someone of his own kind.
    He looked around for Roger but that young man had gone to the tent to take care of his cub.
    Hal strolled down through the campground. The stranger saw him coming and walked off rapidly along the tracks.
    Hal stopped short. It was plain that the fellow didn’t want to see him.
    Now Hal’s curiosity was really aroused. Perhaps the station master could tell him about the new arrival.
    In the station he found Tanga already at his desk, a cup of tea at his elbow.
    ‘I see we have a white visitor/ Hal said. ‘Caught a glimpse of him in the camp.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Tanga.