I found all my men had arrived here before dark.  Ulimengo, the bold guide who had exulted in his weapons and in our numbers, and was so sanguine of victory, had performed the eleven hours’ march in six hours; sturdy Chowpereh, whom I regarded as the faithfullest of my people, had arrived only half an hour later than Ulimengo; and frisky Khamisi, the dandy—­the orator—­the rampant demagogue—­yes—­he had come third; and Speke’s “Faithfuls” had proved as cowardly as any poor “nigger” of them all.  Only Selim was faithful.

I asked Selim, “Why did you not also run away, and leave your master to die?”

“Oh, sir,” said the Arab boy, naively, “I was afraid you would whip me.”

CHAPTER IX.  MY LIFE AND TROUBLES IN UNYANYEMBE-(continued).

It never occurred to the Arab magnates that I had cause of complaint against them, or that I had a right to feel aggrieved at their conduct, for the base desertion of an ally, who had, as a duty to friendship, taken up arms for their sake.  Their “salaams” the next morning after the retreat, were given as if nothing had transpired to mar the good feeling that had existed between us.

They were hardly seated, however, before I began to inform them that as the war was only between them and Mirambo, and that as I was afraid, if they were accustomed to run away after every little check, that the war might last a much longer time than I could afford to lose; and that as they had deserted their wounded on the field, and left their sick friends to take care of themselves, they must not consider me in the light of an ally any more.  “I am satisfied,” said I, “having seen your mode of fighting, that the war will not be ended in so short a time as you think it will.  It took you five years, I hear, to conquer and kill Manwa Sera, you will certainly not conquer Mirambo in less than a year.* I am a white man, accustomed to wars after a different style, I know something about fighting, but I never saw people run away from an encampment like ours at Zimbizo for such slight cause as you had.  By running away, you have invited Mirambo to follow you to Unyanyembe; you may be sure he will come.” __________________ * The same war is still raging, April, 1874. __________________

The Arabs protested one after another that they had not intended to have left me, but the Wanyamwezi of Mkasiwa had shouted out that the “Musungu” was gone, and the cry had caused a panic among their people, which it was impossible to allay.

Later that day the Arabs continued their retreat to Tabora; which is twenty-two miles distant from Mfuto.  I determined to proceed more leisurely, and on the second day after the flight from Zimbizo, the Expedition, with all the stores and baggage, marched back to Masangi, and on the third day to Kwihara.

The following extracts from my Diary will serve to show better than anything else, my feelings and thoughts about this time, after our disgraceful retreat: