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The President held up a hand for silence. ‘I think it is only fitting that I should repay the honour.’ He looked at Leon. ‘Will you call Manyoro and Loikot, please?’ Earlier Leon had warned the pair that they would be summoned by Bwana Tumbo; President Roosevelt’s Swahili name meant Sir Mighty Stomach.

Manyoro and Loikot were waiting at the back of the tent and came swiftly. They were resplendent in their flowing red shukas, their hair braids dressed with red ochre and fat. They carried their lion assegais.

‘Leon, please translate for these fine fellows what I want to tell them,’ the President said. ‘You have given to my son, Bwana Popoo Hima, the great honour of your tribe. You have named him a morani of the Masai. Now I name you both warriors of my nation, America. These are the papers that prove you have become Americans. You may come at any time to my country and I will personally welcome you. You are Masai but you are now also American.’ He turned to his secretary, who stood behind his chair and took from him the citizenship certificate scrolls tied with red ribbons. He handed them to the Masai, then shook hands with each man. Spontaneously Manyoro and Loikot launched into the lion dance around the lunch table. Kermit jumped to his feet and joined them, leaping, shuffling and miming. The company clapped and cheered, and Roosevelt rocked in his chair with laughter. When the dance ended, Manyoro and Loikot stalked with great dignity from the tent.

The President rose to his feet again. ‘Now, for the friends who are leaving us today, I have a few souvenirs of the time we have spent so pleasurably together.’ His secretary entered the tent again, carrying a pile of sketchpads. The President took them from him and walked around the table handing them out to his guests. When Leon opened his pad he found it dedicated to him personally,

The pad contained dozens of hand-drawn cartoons. Each was a depiction of an incident that had taken place over the last months. One showed Kermit being thrown from his horse, titled ‘Aff. Son and Heir takes a tumble and hilarious emotions of Mighty Nimrod on witnessing said performance.’ Another was of Leon finishing off the lion, which Roosevelt had annotated, ‘Prominent journalist saved from becoming lion dinner by Mighty Nimrod and joyful emotions of aff. Son and Heir on witnessing prowess of aforesaid Mighty Nimrod.’ Leon was amazed and humbled by the gift, which he knew was priceless, every line drawn by the hand of the mighty man himself.

Too soon the luncheon drew to a close: the boats were waiting on the bank to ferry the presidential party across the river. Leon and Kermit walked together down the bank in silence. Neither was able to think of words to say that would not sound maudlin or trite.

‘Would you take a gift to Lusima from me, pardner?’ Kermit broke the silence as they came to the edge of the water. He handed Leon a small roll of green banknotes. ‘It’s only a hundred dollars. She deserves a lot more. Tell her my bunduki shot real fine, thanks to her.’

‘It’s a generous gift. It will buy her ten good cows. There is nothing more desirable to a Masai than that,’ Leon said.

‘So long, pardner. In Limey terminology, it was all jolly good fun,’ Kermit said.

‘In Americanese, it was super awesome. Goodbye and God speed, chum.’ Leon offered his right hand.

Kermit shook it. ‘I’ll write you.’

‘I bet that’s what you tell all the girls.’

‘You’ll see,’ Kermit said, and went down into the waiting boat. It pulled away from the bank and out across the swift, wide waters of the Nile. When it was almost beyond earshot Kermit stood up in the stern and shouted something. Leon just made out the words above the roaring of the waters in the falls downstream. ‘Brothers of the warrior blood!’

Leon laughed, waved his hat and bellowed back, ‘Up the Rifles!’