Kendo and his wife—wisely, I think—determined not to go to England.
The kendo was ringing, and no one can possess or ring a kendo but a king.
The kendo is the symbol of royalty in most of the tribes of this part of the interior of Africa.
Every day Olenda beats his kendo; every day he comes to get a look at me.
So, at every step the king made the kendo rang, and at last Olenda stood before me.
We accordingly asked Kendo to allow some of his people to assist us in digging a grave.
A kendo, the insignia of chieftainship here, had been procured from the Shimba people, from whose country the kendo comes.
Kendo shouted to us to go on and not stop for anything; a piece of advice we saw the wisdom of following.
Kendo pointed it out to Charley and me, and entreated us to jump in, observing as he did so: “Wife dare.”
Prince Kendo complimented us, and evidently looked upon us as great hunters.