“At last the wound in my skull healed, after a clever English naval surgeon had removed some bits of splintered bone, and my strength came back to me.  I was and still am an American subject, and in those days we had no consul at Zanzibar, if there is one there now, of which I am not sure, and of course no warship.  The English made what inquiries they could for me, but could find out little or nothing, since all the country about Kilwa was in possession of Arab slave-traders who were supported by a ruffian who called himself the Sultan of Zanzibar.”

Again he paused, as though overcome by the sadness of his recollections.

“Did you never hear any more of your wife?” asked Stephen.

“Yes, Mr. Somers; I heard at Zanzibar from a slave whom our mission bought and freed, that he had seen a white woman who answered to her description alive and apparently well, at some place I was unable to identify.  He could only tell me that it was fifteen days’ journey from the coast.  She was then in charge of some black people, he did not know of what tribe, who, he believed, had found her wandering in the bush.  He noted that the black people seemed to treat her with the greatest reverence, although they could not understand what she said.  On the following day, whilst searching for six lost goats, he was captured by Arabs who, he heard afterwards, were out looking for this white woman.  The day after the man had told me this, he was seized with inflammation of the lungs, of which, being in a weak state from his sufferings in the slave gang, he quickly died.  Now you will understand why I was not particularly anxious to revisit Kilwa.”

“Yes,” I said, “we understand that, and a good deal more of which we will talk later.  But, to change the subject, where do you come from now, and how did you happen to turn up just in the nick of time?”

“I was journeying here across country by a route I will show you on my map,” he answered, “when I met with an accident to my leg” (here Stephen and I looked at each other) “which kept me laid up in a Kaffir hut for six weeks.  When I got better, as I could not walk very well I rode upon oxen that I had trained.  That white beast you saw is the last of them; the others died of the bite of the tsetse fly.  A fear which I could not define caused me to press forward as fast as possible; for the last twenty-four hours I have scarcely stopped to eat or sleep.  When I got into the Mazitu country this morning I found the kraals empty, except for some women and girls, who knew me again, and threw these flowers over me.  They told me that all the men had gone to Beza Town for a great feast, but what the feast was they either did not know or would not reveal.  So I hurried on and arrived in time—­thank God in time!  It is a long story; I will tell you the details afterwards.  Now we are all too tired.  What’s that noise?”

I listened and recognised the triumphant song of the Zulu hunters, who were returning from the savage scene in the market-place.  Presently they arrived, headed by Sammy, a very different Sammy from the wailing creature who had gone out to execution an hour or two before.  Now he was the gayest of the gay, and about his neck were strung certain weird ornaments which I identified as the personal property of Imbozwi.