“White man, I refused; but I tell you,” he added warningly, “that my captains wished to accept.  They said that I had come back to them safe and that they fear the Asiki, who are devils, not men, and who will bring the curse of Bonsa on us if we go on fighting with them.  Still I refused, saying that if they gave you up I would go with you, who saved my life from the lion and afterwards from the priests of Bonsa.  So the messenger went back and, white man, we march at once, and I pray you always to keep close to me that I may watch over you.”

Then began that long tramp down the river, which Alan always thought afterwards tried him more than any of the terrible events of his escape.  For although there was but little fighting, only rearguard actions indeed, every day the Asiki sent messengers renewing their offers of peace on the sole condition of the surrender of himself and Jeekie.  At last one evening they came to that place where Alan first met the Ogula, and once more he camped upon the island on which he had shot the lion.  At nightfall, after he had eaten, Fahni visited him here and Alan boded evil from his face.

“White man,” he said, “I can protect you no longer.  The Asiki messengers have been with us again and they say that unless we give you up to-morrow at the dawn, their army will push on ahead of us and destroy my town, which is two days’ march down the river, and all the women and children in it, and that afterwards they will fight a great battle with us.  Therefore my people say that I must give you up, or that if I do not they will elect another chief and do so themselves.”

“Then you will give up a dead man, Fahni.”

“Friend,” said the old chief in a low voice, “the night is dark and the forest not so far away.  Moreover, I have set no guards on that side of the river, and Jeekie here does not forget a road that he has travelled.  Lastly, I have heard it said that there are some other white people with soldiers camped in the edge of the forest.  Now, if you were not here in the morning, how could I give you up?”

“I understand, Fahni.  You have done your best for me, and now, good-night.  Jeekie and I are going to take a walk.  Sometimes you will think of the months we spent together in Bonsa-Town, will you not?”

“Yes, and of you also, white man, for so long as I shall live.  Walk fast and far, for the Asiki are clever at following a spoor.  Good-night, Friend, and to you, Jeekie the cunning, good-night also.  I go to tell my captains that I will surrender you at dawn,” and without more words he vanished out of their sight and out of their lives.

Meanwhile Jeekie, foreseeing the issue of this talk, was already engaged in doing up their few belongings, including the gold rings, some food, and a native cooking pot, in a bundle surrounded by a couple of bark blankets.

“Come on, Major,” he said, handing Alan one spear and taking another himself.  “Old cannibal quite right, very nice night for a walk.  Come on, Major, river shallow just here.  I think this happen and try it before dark.  You just follow Jeekie, that all you got to do.”