Tom Burnaby: A Story of Uganda and the Great Congo Forest

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER V

  A Long March

  Lake Mazingo--Tom's Talisman--Scenes on the March--In Sight--TomSurprises the Doctor--Imubinga

  Tom woke with the dawn, feeling anything but well. His head was achingviolently; he was reluctant to move; and when at last he threw off hisrug and raised himself on his elbow, his head swam and he shivered. Aclammy mist lay thick upon the surface of the lake, completely hidingeverything beyond a radius of a dozen yards. The water smeltabominably, reminding Tom so strongly of the Clyde at its worst that hesaid to himself: "I declare I am homesick!" and laughed at the newapplication of the word.

  "It looks very much," he thought, "as though I'm in for a spell offever. But I simply can't afford time to be ill. Wish this wretchedmist would clear away, so that I could see whereabouts we are."

  At this moment Mbutu came up from the other end of the canoe. He heldout a small paper packet to his master, who took it and opened it beforehis dazed recollection was fully awake.

  "Ah! cinchona, that blessed bark!" he exclaimed, when he saw the whitepowder. "I remember the padre gave us some to put among our baggage.Thanks, Mbutu! you're a clever fellow to guess so readily what is wrongwith me. Well, here goes; out of the bitter" (he swallowed the drug)"shall come forth the sweet, and let's hope I'll soon be as strong asSamson himself. And look! there's the sun struggling through thisdetestable wet blanket. The mist will soon be gone, and then we mustmake a start."

  "Berrah well, sah," said Mbutu. "Me sleepy too much, sah."

  "Sleepy, are you? How's that? I slept as sound as that fellow--whatwas his name?--who snored for a hundred years. What!" (as an idea struckhim) "you don't mean to say you've been watching all night?"

  "Oh yes, sah! Sah berrah sleepy; dem black man no good; me tink aboutcroc'dile. Uncle, sah, go by-by in canoe all same too much; leg trickleober side, sah; croc'dile berrah hungry; come 'long, 'long; no nize,sah; him--"

  Mbutu's only story was interrupted at this point by a howl from one ofthe crew. Expecting to see at least a leg or an arm less among them,Tom started up. What he actually saw was the howling native lying faceupwards at full length along the bottom of the canoe, and his threemates walking solemnly over him, kneading him with their feet, a look ofsolemn determination imprinted on their features. What most astonishedTom was that, though the prostrate man still yelled, he appeared to likethe performance, and rolled his eyes gratefully at his perambulatingfriends.

  "What--what on earth are they doing?" laughed Tom.

  "Him sick too much in tummick, sah," said Mbutu gravely. "Too muchcheese, sah. Better next time soon."

  "Is that their cure for dyspepsia, then? I must tell Dr. Corney aboutthis. What a fine poster it would make for advertising somebody'spills! As the howls have stopped, I suppose the poor fellow is better?"

  "Berrah well now, sah. Him no eat cheese not much no more. Cheese toomuch nice."

  Tom laughed. The sun was rapidly dispersing the mist, which rolled backlike a circular curtain. The surface of the lake was clear for half amile round, though clear was after all not the word for it, papyrussticking up thickly in all directions. Tom felt again rather depressedas he scanned the dismal prospect, but did his best to shake off theweight. Unable to eat anything himself, he ordered his men to have theirbreakfast and prepare to start.

  The whole of that day was occupied in paddling down the lake. Tom couldhardly endure the slowness of their progress. The crew would paddle forhalf a mile, then find the canoe entangled in a maze of subaqueouscreepers, and have to try back for twenty yards or so and look foranother passage. Once, going at a fair pace, it embedded itself in asubmerged bank of black mud, and all its occupants had to jumpoverboard, and partly by heaving, partly by loosening the mud with theaxes, free the craft from the obstruction. Then, as the afternoon woreon, mosquitoes and ticks innumerable buzzed about their heads. Thenatives paid little heed to these importunate visitors, but Tom's face,neck, and arms were stung in scores of places, and he suffered almostintolerable torture. He found some mental relief in opening on hisknees the writing-case given him by Mr. Barkworth, and penning anaccount of his adventures, intending to send the letter by one of thecrew on their return journey. In course of time they came opposite asmall native village on the lake-side, and Mbutu, with Tom's permission,leapt overboard and waded to the shore. He returned in about half anhour carrying a closely-woven straw basket, which he handed to Tom.

  "Drink, sah, fust; berrah well. Next time, rub hands and face, so;berrah well. Berrah nice, sah; hurt all go too soon."

  Tom saw that the basket was half-full of delicious new milk. He drankmore gratefully than ever in his life before, then washed his face andarms in what was left.

  About five o'clock they reached a point which the natives declared wasthe southern extremity of the lake, and beyond which they had beenforbidden by their chief to go. Tom heaved a sigh of relief.

  "There is an hour before sundown," he said. "We ought to be able tofind a native hut or two by that time--eh, Mbutu?"

  "Sure nuff, sah."

  "The first thing is to get ashore. The water is not deep enough for usto pull in, and the bottom seems nothing but mud."

  "All same, sah; me know all 'bout it, sah."

  Fixing his keen eyes on the water around, Mbutu picked out the directionin which the depth of water was greatest and the reeds thinnest, andunder his guidance the Baganda gently paddled the canoe to within thirtyyards of the shore.

  "Stop dis place," he said at last. "Sah say by-by to black man; blackman go home now; home to pickin."

  Tom got out his rolls of calico and packets of beads, and gravely cutoff from the one and counted out from the other the stipulatedquantities, which he handed to the crew, adding a present to each, andan extra douceur to the head-man and the poor fellow injured the daybefore. He then made them a speech, thanking them in the King's namefor the service they had done the British Empire in general and MajorJohn Burnaby in particular, Mbutu translating very freely, and atconsiderable length, into the vernacular. Finally he handed his letterto the head-man, telling him that Mr. Barkworth would give him ahandsome present when he delivered it. Then he went over the side, Mbutufollowing with the baggage.

  It was past six o'clock, and almost without warning the sun sank downupon their right, and everything was dark. Mbutu led the way over theswampy soil, his master following gingerly at the distance of about ayard, just able to discern his black form. After ten minutes' walkingthey felt the ground gradually becoming drier, and half an hour laterthey found themselves treading a turf that reminded Tom of the Berkshiredowns. He asked Mbutu what plan he had formed. The boy replied that hehad none, except to find a village where they might rest in safety forthe night. He added that he was beginning to be afraid of snakes, andhinted that a lion or two might happen to be prowling abroad.

  "Me want see light, sah," he said.

  At length, after they had been walking for an hour and a half, hegleefully exclaimed that he saw a twinkle ahead. Fifteen minutes laterthe pedestrians came to a sort of guard-house gateway, built of mud andwattles, across a narrow path. They passed through it, and foundthemselves in the single street of a village lined with grass huts oneach side, one of these, somewhat larger than the rest, having a fire init, the glow of which Mbutu had seen through the door-hole. Theinhabitants appeared to be asleep; there was no sound save the faint baaof a goat in the compound beyond, and the melancholy night moo of a cow.Signing to his master to stop, Mbutu put down his little load, found astrip of calico and a bracelet of beads, and uttered a curious cry,between the call of a hyena and the howl of a wolf. In an instant, asit seemed, the two strangers were surrounded by a ring of natives, whoin their haste had snatched up as weapons whatever came first to hand.Torches were soon on the scene, and by their light the amazed nativessaw the disturbers of their repose: a tall white man, nearly six feethigh, young, broad-shou
ldered, with thin, hairless face--thinned even bythe anxieties of the last few days,--keen blue eyes, and firm lips; anda Muhima, some eight inches shorter than his master, his thick lips andwoolly hair proclaiming his negro blood, but his eyes and brow andarched nose bespeaking a strain derived from a far-distant Egyptianancestry. Englishman and Muhima, each with race marked in every line ofhis figure, stood facing the wondering villagers unflinchingly.

  Then Mbutu began to explain, and Tom stood patiently for an hour whilehis follower lauded him to the skies, claimed for him qualities andconnections of the most exalted nobility, and demanded hospitality fromthe villagers in the name of the Great White King. They were visiblyimpressed, and talked away energetically among themselves. Then thechief came forward and said that he knew the servants of the Great WhiteKing were good brothers of his; he had seen some of them only the daybefore; but how was he to be sure that his white visitor was not one ofthe Wa-daki, whom he hated as he hated snakes and leopards? Tom was atfirst at a loss how to convince the chief of his British nationality.Suddenly bethinking himself, he took out his pocket-book, in which hehad a few postage-stamps. He tore off one, and showed it to the negro.When Mbutu explained that the head on the stamp was the head of theGreat White King, the chief was delighted; still more when Tom, wettingit, solemnly affixed it to his black arm. After that the enrapturedchief announced that his own hut was freely at the disposition of thewhite man.

  Tom's host was a villainous-looking savage, but he proved mosthospitable. His hut contained nothing but a hard plank raised on shortpegs from the earthen floor, a broken box, a small fire, and a generalsupply of insects. Mbutu explained that his master, whom he called hisgreat chief, was tired and wished to sleep, but that first he must havea meal, and would purchase a young fowl. That was instantlyforthcoming, and in a few minutes Mbutu had prepared an excellent supperof grilled chicken, unleavened millet-cakes, and tea unsweetened, butqualified with cow's milk.

  On the following morning Tom sent Mbutu to summon the chief to apalaver. That solemn function lasted for two hours, and Tom was onthorns till it was over. The talking was mainly between Mbutu and thechief, and Tom was amazed that so much eloquence had to be expended ingiving and receiving so little information. All that he learnt was thatthe expedition had passed within a couple of miles of the village soonafter sunrise on the previous day, and that it was proceeding due west,to punish the Arabs and the Manyema. The chief was very emphatic on thispoint; he declared that the Arabs and their allies deserved all theywould get, for they had made themselves a terror for miles round,treating the natives with frightful cruelty, lopping off hands and feet,slitting noses, killing outright, sometimes in wanton devilry, sometimesas punishment for trivial offences. The expedition had bought a fewsheep and goats, and paid for them, but "not nuff", as Mbutu interpretedto his master, adding, however, that no native chief would ever admithimself satisfied: "black chief all same for one".

  Tom was delighted to hear that his uncle was only a day's march in frontof him. Discovering that the route lay for miles over grass country,gradually rising until it entered a mountainous region, he inferred thatthe British force would now be moving at a slow rate, which increasedhis chances of overtaking it soon. With a march overland before him, hefelt the advisability of having a weapon of some sort in case ofemergency, and asked the chief through Mbutu if he had a rifle to sell.The chief produced a very old and rusty weapon, with some cartridges,and Tom grimaced when, on trying a shot, he found himself thrownbackward by the unexpected force of its kick. He accepted it in defaultof a better, and left Mbutu to settle the price.

  It was past ten o'clock when the two travellers, amid the friendlyfarewells of the whole village, set off on their march. Tom guessed thatthe expedition, being rather more than twenty-four hours ahead of them,was at this time some twenty-five miles away, and he hoped with goodluck to decrease that lead very considerably before nightfall. Mbutu'sload, diminished by the quantities of calico and beads already partedwith, was now much lighter than when he started, so that, thoughshorter, he found himself quite able to keep up with Tom, who set offwith an easy stride.

  After about half an hour's walking, they struck into the track of theexpedition. It was a path not more than a foot wide, which in someparts evidently followed a previous native track, in other parts hadbeen trodden for the first time by the advancing force. Tom wassurprised to find it so narrow, until informed by Mbutu that in Africanative troops almost invariably kept single file while on the march.The path led over rolling grassy downs, clumps of bracken and bramblehere and there giving them a very home-like appearance. In one place,indeed, Tom was delighted to see a few daisies growing; he stooped andpicked one, smiling, as he stuck it in his coat, to think of thethousands of daisies he had trampled under foot at home without even apassing thought. Large trees were few and far between on the savannah,but one, which he had never seen before, seemed to Tom extraordinarilygraceful--a long, straight, even stem, with a cluster of strange frondsspreading fan-like from its top.

  The path led across streams of clear sparkling water, in which, as thesun grew hotter, Tom was glad to bathe his face and feet, andoccasionally to drink. The banks of every stream of considerable sizewere clothed with luxuriant vegetation, palms, acacias, lianas growingthickly together, with tall grass, wild bananas, and flowering creeperswhich made a dazzling and beautiful picture. Crimson butterflies dartedhither and thither among the foliage. "How Jenks would revel in this ona Saturday afternoon!" thought Tom, and was reminded that he had lostcount of the days. He opened his pocket-diary, and by tracing back hisrecent adventures found that it was Saturday, the 8th of June. "Andto-morrow's Uncle Jack's birthday!" he remembered. "Well, I've nopresent for him--except myself, and I don't suppose" (the thought wasaccompanied by a rueful smile) "he'll be overglad to see me--at least atfirst."

  He was at this moment entering a patch of forest on the edge of astream, and Mbutu pointed out some deep scratches on the grayish boles.

  "What are they?" asked Tom. "They remind me of the scratches on thelegs of the table in my father's study, and our old cat--heavens, howlong it seems since I saw them!"

  "Leopards did 'em, sah! When dey catch us dey eat us."

  "Really! Then they mustn't catch us, that's all."

  Just as the words were out of his mouth, a terrific crash to the leftmade him jump and stand watchfully bent forward with his loaded rifle.He peered into the dense mass of foliage, but saw nothing.

  "No leopard, sah; leopard no make nize."

  "What is it, then?"

  "Dere he are, sah! Dat him! Big amalua, sah!"

  They had just reached the water's edge. Away to the left, sousinghimself in the running stream, they saw a splendid elephant, withgleaming tusks that would have brought joy to a hunter's soul. Tomwould have tried a shot, if he had not already proved that his rifle washopelessly antiquated and short-ranged, and with his presentresponsibility he did not feel justified in running any avoidable risks.He sighed, and passed on, over a bridge of tree-trunks cleverly boundtogether by ropes made of papyrus and creepers. It had evidently beenslightly repaired for the passage of the British force, some of theplant-ropes looking fresh and new.

  On the other side of the stream came another stretch of fairly levelcountry, with short, straw-coloured grass, interrupted here and there bya swamp. By half-past five Tom calculated that they had covered no morethan twenty miles, and he was uncomfortably conscious of his want oftraining. He had a drawn, burning sensation at the ball of his leftfoot, and felt pretty sure that he would find there the making of ablister. Luckily, just before sundown they came to a banana plantation,amid which, on a knoll, stood a very neat and tidy-looking hut. Ithappened to be empty, and Tom thought it no wrong to the absent owner tomake it his quarters for the night. There were a few rough clayutensils in it, and Mbutu, fetching water from the brook which ran roundthe base of the knoll, soon made some tea, which, with bananas cutfresh, millet cakes, and
oatmeal biscuits, furnished a satisfactorysupper. Tom bathed his feet, and at Mbutu's suggestion covered themwith a compress of bananas. In the morning he found, rather to hissurprise, that this novel application had been most beneficial. It wasonly one of the hundred uses to which, as he learnt by degreesafterwards, the natives put the plant: its pulp made flour and beer,spirits and soap; its rind made plates and dishes and napkins; while itsstalks provided pipes, and even material for footbridges.

  Next day they started at sunrise. Walking was more arduous than it hadbeen on the previous day, for the ground rose gradually, becoming moreand more rocky, cut at intervals by ravines, and showing here and therefragments of what Tom believed must be lava. The soil was in truthvolcanic; not very many miles to the south of their path stood twovolcanoes still moderately active, and but a few miles north there weremountain lakes lying hidden in the craters of volcanoes long extinct.Tom knew nothing of these, however; he was only concerned with the hardfact that walking was unpleasant, and that over the rocky ground thetrack of the expedition was sometimes difficult to discover. The oneconsolation was that, slow as their own progress was, the progress ofthe expedition, as the Zanzibari porters carried their loads over ravineand boulder, must necessarily be slower. Foot-sore, aching in everylimb, he nevertheless pressed on indomitably, hoping against hope thathe might overtake his uncle before night. But though he anxiouslylooked ahead through his field-glass, he saw nothing but broken, rockycountry, and at five miles' distance his view was interrupted altogetherby a rugged line of hills.

  The sun went down in crimson splendour. There was no hut on thisoccasion to afford sleeping room to the weary travellers. Building afire with some wood from a scanty copse on the bank of a ravine, theyfound a shelter hard by among the rocks, and slept in their rugs. Upagain at day-break, they pushed on, and were pleased to find, onreaching the range of hills before mentioned, that the ground theresloped gradually downwards, and the path led once more into a grassyplain. Just before noon, after crossing a bridge, evidently new, thrownover a wider stream than any they had yet encountered, and walking up asteep grassy acclivity, Tom raised his glass to his eyes, and uttered anexclamation of thankfulness and joy.

  "There they are, Mbutu!" he cried. "I see them! It must be theexpedition. It's just like a long snake winding through a broad defileover there. Look! Now isn't it?"

  Mbutu peered long and earnestly into the distance.

  "Right, sah! I see dem big black man. Dey plenty big, plenty strong.Soon be dar, sah; see sah him uncle."

  Tom stopped short.

  "Look here, Mbutu," he said, "an idea has just struck me. You mustn't beseen at first. If that scamp of a guide sees you, he will suspectsomething, and our long journey may be thrown away. I must go on first.He doesn't know me."

  "Berrah well, sah; all same for one."

  "You're not afraid, are you? I shouldn't like a wild animal to run offwith my katikiro."

  Mbutu grinned.

  "No 'fraid dis time, sah. Sah him uncle drive all wild beast away; alldat nize, sah; wild beast no like nize; make him tummick bad too much,sah."

  "Well, I needn't leave you yet. They're still about five miles ahead, Ishould think, and they're almost over the hill-top now. When we getwithin sight of the rear-guard again, I'll go on, and you must keep intouch till you're sent for."

  Tom's feet by this time were giving him torture. He felt horriblyfagged, and, realizing how hungry he was, he sighed, above all things inthe world, for a juicy steak and a jug of shandy-gaff, such as used toawait the school fifteen after a hard house match. "But I'm not goingto give in at the death," he said to himself doggedly. "And I shouldthink another couple of hours would do it."

  He crossed the hill, and saw the tail-end of the force not more than twomiles ahead, just passing into a clump of trees, on the near side ofwhich were two or three native huts.

  "That's where you must stay, Mbutu. It's about four o'clock now, so theforce will be camping very soon, and we shan't be far ahead of you.Now, I'm going on. Good-bye for the present; I fancy you'll see meagain after dark."

  "All right, sah; so long!" The slang sounded strange in the mouth of aMuhima, and Tom's lips twitched with amusement as he turned his back.

  Forty minutes later, as he was walking as fast as his sore feet allowedthrough a stretch of thin forest, he was halted by the bayonet of aSoudanese sergeant, who looked at him with amazement.

  "All right, sergeant; I'm Major Burnaby's nephew. You can let methrough."

  The Soudanese happened to be one of the draft picked up at Entebbe, andthus had not seen Tom before. He seemed too much surprised to think.The stranger was unmistakeably an Englishman, however, and he could notbe going very far wrong if he sent him under guard to the major.Calling two of his men, he instructed them to lead Tom between them tothe commanding officer, who was superintending the formation of a campabout a mile ahead.

  Tom limped along, feeling now too much excited, as well as exhausted, toattempt any conversation with his escort. Two minutes after leaving thesergeant, he heard a familiar voice before him.

  "There now, more comfortable now, aren't ye? Just take care you don'tgo putting your foot on a thorn again. Bedad, it's you scoundhrels ofporters that get more out of the R.A.M.C. than the soldiers at all, atall. Now just be after minding your toes, ye spalpeen."

  Dr. Corney O'Brien had just extracted a thorn from a Zanzibari's foot,when he looked up and caught sight of Tom.

  "By all the holy powers!" he exclaimed. "It's you!"

  "Yes--it's myself, doctor," said Tom, with a feeble attempt to smile.

  "'Pon my soul, I thought it was your ghost!" gasped the doctor. "Ah,faith, won't the major be pleased! I wouldn't be in your shoes for--But, save us, the lad's dead-beat."

  Excitement even more than fatigue had overcome Tom's nerve at last; butfor the support of the two Soudanese he would have fallen. Quick asthought the little doctor whipped out a flask and poured a few drops ofbrandy between his lips.

  "Now you fellows," he called to the Soudanese, "just rig up a litter.Come, look alive! Half a minute by my watch, no more!"

  The stalwart soldiers, in less than the time specified, had improvised alitter out of their rifles and a couple of coats.

  "Now, my dear bhoy, we will hear Ould Blazes' remarks in ten minutes.Gently, now."

  "But, Doctor, really I can't go into camp in a litter," said Tom, whosefainting fit had lasted but a few seconds.

  "Can't ye, bedad? You can't go any other way, nor you shan't if youcan. Sure an' you're as thin's a lath; no wonder the leopards and lionsand all the other wild cratures let ye through! No, ye're not to talkat all; I'll do the talking; just lie quiet and ride into camp in state.Ah, but the major's face'll be a sight to see--bedad it will! Iwouldn't miss it for wurrulds."

  He had assisted Tom gently into the litter slung between the two stolidSoudanese; and thus, with a sense of peace and comfort for all hisweariness, the wanderer was ushered into the presence of his uncle.

  "Hullo, Corney!" shouted the major, as he caught sight of the litter,his jolly voice sounding the very keynote of cheerfulness, and sending athrill through Tom's soul. "Hullo, Corney! another of your petmalingerers, eh?"

  "Not this time. This fellow--would ye believe it?--won't admit there'sanything wrong with 'm. Better prepare for a shock, old man. I've notasked 'm yet what 'tis that's brought 'm here, but--

  "Good heavens, it's Tom!" cried the major in amazement, which speedilyblazed into wrath. "Well, of all the confounded, impudent, disob--"

  "Hould yer whisht!" interrupted the doctor. "Do ye not see the lad'sdead-beat entirely! The blazes 'll keep. Really, Major, there'ssomething at the bottom of this, or he would not be here. He needs somefood first thing; you've got your tent up, I see. Well then, I'll getSaladin to make some Liebig, and when I've had my innings with thebhoy--well, blaze away if you must."

  The major said no more. His tent was pitched in
the centre of a thornzariba a hundred and twenty yards square, and the men were busilyengaged in running up grass huts and entrenching the camp. Tom wascarried to the tent, where in a very short time the energetic littledoctor had a steaming bowl of beef-tea, some substantial biscuits, and abottle of burgundy ready for him. He ought, after his meal, said thedoctor, to go to sleep, but Tom declared he could not rest until he hadexplained his presence, and the doctor gave way, being indeed not alittle curious to hear Tom's story. He therefore fetched the major, whowas indefatigable in his personal superintendence of the campingarrangements, and, with a private hint to him not to be peppery, broughthim into the tent.

  They listened attentively as Tom told how Mbutu had come to him on thenight of the starting of the expedition, and, on learning that Tom wasthe major's nephew, had reported the conversation he had overheard; andhow he had come with the boy on the padre's launch to the mouth of theRuezi, and thence by canoe and overland. The major was at firstinclined to pooh-pooh the story altogether, but when the doctor pointedout that unless there was some truth in it, the Portuguese would havehad no object in pursuing Tom so hotly, he looked grave, and tugged atthe ends of his moustache.

  "But he had other grounds for annoyance. Nobody likes to be knockeddown--and certainly not a Portuguese. But where's that boy of yours, bythe by? I will see him myself."

  "I told him to wait a couple of miles out, so as not to be seen by yourguide," replied Tom.

  "Quite right; but it's dark now. I'll send a couple of men to bring himin. We must see how this remarkable story squares with presentcircumstances."

  The major returned rather more than an hour later. "Hasn't that blackboy turned up yet?" he asked.

  "Give'm time," answered the doctor. "'Tis two miles out and two milesin, remember."

  "Well, he won't be long now. By the way, Tom, what race does he belongto?--Banyoro, Baganda, or what?"

  "He's a Bahima," replied Tom.

  "Muhima," corrected the major, "Muhima for the individual. His peoplethe Bahima are the aristocrats of the country! They've degeneratedthrough mixing with the negroes, but I've no doubt they really arefar-away descendants of the ancient Egyptians. Here he is!" added themajor, as Mbutu was pushed into the tent by the orderly. "Well, my boy,don't be afraid of me; I'm your master's uncle. Just come and tell meall about it."

  Mbutu told the story in his long-winded stumbling way, the majorlistening attentively, and helping him when he stuck for a word.

  "Well now, did you hear those two men mention any place in the course oftheir talk?"

  Mbutu thought for a moment.

  "Imubinga, sah!" he said at last. "I know dat. Imubinga! Oh yes!"

  "Imubinga! Corney, that's the place, you remember, where the guide saidwe should camp to-morrow; the inhabitants are likely to have a goodsupply of food, he said, and that's a blessing in such asparsely-populated district. This begins to look more serious. I'llsend scouts forward first thing in the morning to see if the guide'sinformation is correct so far as it goes. Imubinga, you remember hetold us, is in a plain on the far side of a range of hills, got atthrough a long defile of six miles or so. If that turns out correct,depend upon it this precious ambush will be laid somewhere about the endof the defile. Ambush, indeed! What do they take me for! Still, younever know; we'll be on the safe side."

  "Hungry, boy?" asked the doctor, turning to Mbutu.

  "No, sah," replied Mbutu promptly. "Berrah nice chicken in pot, sah.Big black soldier gib some. Oh yes!"

  "Well," said the major with a smile, "you'll stay in my tent to-night,and understand you are not to go out without leave. The guide must notsee you. Why, Corney, Tom's asleep. Did you doctor his wine, eh?"

  "Just the least touch in his second glass. 'Twill do the boy good.Sure 'tis sleep he wants."

  "D'you know, Corney, I'm proud of this nephew of mine."

  "An' ye ought to be, ye ould martinet."

  "You wouldn't have me tell him so to his face, would you? Well now, I'llgo and see Lister about the scouts; may as well send Mumford in charge,don't you think? And then I must stop the men's jabber; they'll cackletill two in the morning if I don't."

  "Faith, 'tis time I turned in myself. Good-night, Major!"

  Major Burnaby arranged with Captain Lister for the despatch of ascouting-party at daybreak under Lieutenant Mumford. Then he made around of the camp to see that the watch-fires were alight and thesentries properly posted. Finding that the men had finished theirsupper, he sternly bade them stop talking and go to sleep. Soon theclacking of nine hundred tongues ceased, and the camp lay all peacefulbeneath the rising moon.