"May be one two months."
Then I said, "No water out west—die of thirst?"
"Now," said Gioro, nodding his head affirmatively, "but in one two months, no, no."
I saw that he meant either that after three months there would be wet weather, or that within three months we should have a better-watered country westward. So I said, pointing west, "What's out there?"
"No water, no grass, no duck, no black fellow."
"But," said I, looking northward, "we go on one two months, and then?" making a half-turn to face the west.
"Then," said he, "plenty grass, plenty fish, plenty duck, plenty black fellow."
"Everywhere?" said I, sweeping my arm all round the horizon.
"No, no, here, there, there. Gioro know the way, Bomero know the way, find Bomero, find water."
"What," said I, not understanding him, "Bomero make rain?"
But he replied with great contempt, "Bomero make rain! No, no. Bomero not witchfellow. No fear. Bomero make witchfellow make rain."
I think it was on this occasion that we ascertained that Gioro fully intended to go away westward in
