The ascent of the rock, that bond of union between the plain and the mountain, was as easy as possible for the able-bodied men of the expedition, bat the work of conveying the wounded up it was perilous in the extreme. Every obstacle, however, was overcome, thanks to the ropes in possession of the Desrioux caravan. These were tied one to the other, and thus made a sort of railing, firmly fixed on the plateau by the first arrivals there, and descending along the whole length of the granite bridge right down to the plain. By the aid of this support, M. de Guéran was carried in a hammock, borne on poles.
The use of her legs was restored to Queen Walinda, by order of M. Delange, who was answerable for her, and four Nubians, strictly enjoined to watch her narrowly, made her walk in front of them. Contrary to the expectation of everybody, she did not make the slightest resistance, but scaled the rock deliberately, without a murmur or even turning her head, just as if she were leaving her dominions of her own free will. When she reached the plateau, she did not even glance back at the land of which, that very morning, she had been the sovereign. She appeared to have no eyes except for her former prisoner and for Madame de Guéran, who walked at his side.
The caravan by degrees wound along the defile traversed on the previous evening by MM. Desrioux and de Pommerelle. The Beluchs, who knew the road, formed the vanguard; then came the wounded, escorted by Drs. Desrioux and Delange, ever ready to aid them, and followed by the women and the bearers. The Nubians and Dinkas, commanded by Nassar and the Arab interpreters, brought up the rear.
Before joining the ranks, the Europeans acted on the hint given by M. Périères. Some soldiers, provided with lances to be used as levers, lifted the part of the rock which rested against the mountain, and by a resolute and united effort rolled the block of stone over on to the plain.
The amazons, however, did not seem disposed to follow up the Europeans and rescue their Queen; their whole attention was given to escaping from the Monbuttoos, who in the last hour or so had made themselves masters of the country. These people made a terrible use of the victory they had not gained, setting fire to all the villages and huts, dancing and frisking around the bonfires, and going into mourning for their King in the gayest fashion.
The Europeans, after having cast a sorrowful look over the field of carnage, and said a last adieu to the vast regions they had just traversed, followed the caravan. M. de Pommerelle walked beside his two friends, de Morin and Périères, and gave them—for up to this moment they had not had any opportunity for chatting—the latest news from Paris. This news was rather stale, eight months old in fact, seeing that the Count and the doctor had left France in the month of March, but they were none the less welcome to his hearers, exiles since October, 1872. M. de Pommerelle also told them how, in reading their letters, following them on the map, and trying to live their life, he had felt himself gradually acquiring a taste for far-off adventures. These and other confidential communications were interrupted by Miss Poles, who had left her place, allowed the caravan to defile before her, and now joined the Count de Pommerelle, that very attractive man, as she had just confided to Dr. Delange.
Left to themselves, MM. de Morin and Périères lighted a couple of those excellent cigars of which they had been so long deprived, a gift from M. de Pommerelle. After a few moments' silent enjoyment of these luxuries, they looked at each other, and the painter, said to the man of letters—
"Well, we have found him at last!"
"Yes, we have found him," replied M. Périères. "And, moreover, we may safely say that for a year past we have not left a stone unturned in that direction."
"With a chivalrous disinterestedness," added M. de Morin, "worthy a place in the records of practical morality."