At first I thought that they would break camp and march away; indeed, they began to make preparations to do this, then abandoned the idea, probably because the slaves were exhausted and there was no other water they could reach before nightfall.  In the end they settled down and lit cooking fires.  Also, as I observed, they took precautions against attack by stationing sentries and forcing the slaves to construct a boma of thorns about their camp.

“Well,” said Stephen, when we had finished our dinner, “are you ready for that call?”

“No!” I answered, “I do not think that I am.  I have been considering things, and concluded that we had better leave well alone.  By this time those Arabs will know all the story of our dealings with their worthy master, Hassan, for no doubt he has sent messengers to them.  Therefore, if we go to their camp, they may shoot us at sight.  Or, if they receive us well, they may offer hospitality and poison us, or cut our throats suddenly.  Our position might be better, still it is one that I believe they would find difficult to take.  So, in my opinion, we had better stop still and await developments.”

Stephen grumbled something about my being over-cautious, but I took no heed of him.  One thing I did do, however.  Sending for Hans, I told him to take one of the Mazitu—­I dared not risk them both for they were our guides—­and another of the natives whom we had borrowed from Hassan, a bold fellow who knew all the local languages, and creep down to the slavers’ camp as soon as it was quite dark.  There I ordered him to find out what he could, and if possible to mix with the slaves and explain that we were their friends.  Hans nodded, for this was exactly the kind of task that appealed to him, and went off to make his preparations.

Stephen and I also made some preparations in the way of strengthening our defences, building large watch-fires and setting sentries.

The night fell, and Hans with his companions departed stealthily as snakes.  The silence was intense, save for the occasional wailings of the slaves, which now and again broke out in bursts of melancholy sound, “La-lu-La-lua!” and then died away, to be followed by horrid screams as the Arabs laid their lashes upon some poor wretch.  Once too, a shot was fired.

“They have seen Hans,” said Stephen.

“I think not,” I answered, “for if so there would have been more than one shot.  Either it was an accident or they were murdering a slave.”

After this nothing more happened for a long while, till at length Hans seemed to rise out of the ground in front of me, and behind him I saw the figures of the Mazitu and the other man.

“Tell your story,” I said.

“Baas, it is this.  Between us we have learned everything.  The Arabs know all about you and what men you have.  Hassan has sent them orders to kill you.  It is well that you did not go to visit them, for certainly you would have been murdered.  We crept near and overheard their talk.  They purpose to attack us at dawn to-morrow morning unless we leave this place before, which they will know of as we are being watched.”