H. M. Stanley, in Africa, had much trouble with his men on
account of their inherent propensity to steal, the results of
which brought upon the expedition much actual disaster. At
last Stanley doomed to death the next man caught stealing. His
grief and distress were unbounded when the next thief, detected
in a case of peculiar flagrancy, was found to be Uledi, the
bravest, truest, noblest of his dusky followers. Uledi had saved
a hundred lives, his own among the number. He had performed
acts of the most brilliant daring, always successful, always
faithful, always kind. Must Uledi die? He called all his men
around him in a council. He explained to them the gravity of
Uledi’s crime. He reminded them of his stern decree, but said
he was not hard enough to enforce it against Uledi. His arm
was not strong enough to lift the gun that would kill Uledi,
and he would not bid one of them to do what he could not do
himself. But some punishment, and a hard one, must be meted
out. What should it be? The council must decide. They took a
vote. Uledi must be flogged. When the decision was reached,
Stanley standing, Uledi crouching at his feet and the solemn
circle drawn closely around them, one man whose life Uledi had
saved under circumstances of frightful peril, stood forth and
said, “Give me half the blows, master.” Then another said in
the faintest accents, while tears fell from his eyes, “Will the
master give his slave leave to speak?” “Yes,” said Stanley. The
Arab came forward and knelt by Uledi’s side. His words came
slowly, and now and then a sob broke them. “The master is wise,”
he said; “he knows all that has been, for he writes them in
a book. I am black, and know not. Nor can I remember what is
past. What we saw yesterday is to-day forgotten. But the master
forgets nothing. He puts it all in that book. Each day something
is written. Let your slave fetch the book, master, and turn
its leaves. Maybe you will find some words there about Uledi.
Maybe there is something that tells how he saved Zaidi from the
white waters of the cataract; how he saved many men--how many,
I forget; Bin Ali, Mabruki, Kooi Kusi--others, too; how he is
worthier than any three of us; how he always listens when the
master speaks, and flies forth at his word. Look, master, at
the book. Then, if the blows must be struck, Shumari will take
half and I the other half. The master will do what is right.
Saywa has spoken.” And Saywa’s speech deserves to live forever.
Stanley threw away his whip. “Uledi is free,” he said. “Shumari
and Saywa are pardoned.”--_Christian At Work._
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