The examination would then commence, M. de Guéran, of course, being the sole topic. Here we learnt that he stayed in the neighbouring village for nearly a fortnight. He appeared, so we were told, tired and ill, and dragged himself along rather than walked. They showed us the hut where he had rested, and whence, as soon as he felt himself strong enough, he had set out towards the south. We were thus following our fellow-countryman, step by step. We saw him, as it were, recovering his strength, and making longer and longer stages on his journey. The hospitality of the Maleggas hastened his recovery; in the villages on the frontier he was still an invalid, staggering along; in the hamlets in the centre of the country he was a man again, stronger and more vigorous. He walked and did not merely crawl.
His portrait never varies, but seems graven on the memory of the whole tribe. Those who never saw him have heard him spoken of so often that they know him and can depict his appearance. The journey of this stranger through the country has been a regular event, and the recollection of it is even now far from dying out.
Everybody is agreed on the point that he had a long fair beard, and flowing locks. This latter detail was at first a surprise to the Baroness, who only knew her husband as with a pair of moustaches and short hair, but it soon dawned upon her that M. de Guéran, robbed by the Domondoos of all his baggage, must have been obliged to submit to the growth of that which he could neither cut nor shave. Besides, travellers in central Africa, even those who have not been robbed, as the Baron was, do not take very great pains with their toilet, and we are exceptionally favoured in this respect, thanks to Joseph, who at the commencement of our journey was appointed to the rank of sole barber to the expedition. It also very frequently happens that Europeans end by drawing near to the Africans in the matter of complexion, the fair ones becoming coffee-coloured, and the dark ones chocolate. The skin peels under the influence of the sun's burning rays, one becomes unrecognizable and might very easily pass muster, if not amongst regular negroes, at all events amongst many tribes of a less dusky hue. M. de Guéran appears to have saved from the wreck the clothes he had on, for he is described as having been dressed very much as we are. This piece of minor information seemed to delight Miss Poles, who had never attempted to conceal her fear that we shall find M. de Guéran reduced to the condition of a savage, which, she is wont to add, would be very shocking.
The natives are very clear about the route adopted by the white man on leaving their village for the next hamlet, but we can gain no information as to the direction he took on the day when he finally quitted their country, or, indeed, whether he ever left it. Their knowledge and information never extend beyond a radius of five or six leagues; the districts in the north are entirely ignorant of what passes in those of the centre and south. It could not well be otherwise in countries where communication is a matter of difficulty, and newspapers are unknown. We can only be assured on this point when we reach the monarch, who, according to all accounts, appears to have hospitably entertained the European traveller. In the meantime, thanks to the intelligence of the Maleggas, we can trace, to a certain extent, each stage made by our fellow-countryman. He arrived amongst them in the middle of October, just as we were setting out from Paris in search of him. That, seeing that we are now in October, 1873, is precisely a year ago. We can, even, approach him in thought more nearly than that, as he certainly remained amongst the Maleggas for several months, taking advantage of their hospitality to recruit his forces, to pick up again, in vulgar parlance, in order to attempt fresh enterprises. Six or eight months only, therefore, separate us from him—a blank of six or eight months, how has he filled up that blank? That is a question which we must lose no time in answering.
As we approach the royal residence the country becomes still more picturesque, and the villages succeed each other in closer, more unbroken array. They are dotted here and there on the hills, and nestle amidst their wooded and flowering slopes. We are tempted to forget Africa and to imagine ourselves in Normandy. Goats frisk about the hills, cattle find luxuriant pasture in the plains, and diminutive shepherds armed with miniature lances and clubs keep watch over the flocks and herds. Pretty girls, with upright carriage and shapely limbs, bearing huge jars on their heads, wend their way towards the river. In front of the huts, under a sort of verandah composed of banana branches, the family take their ease, from the hoary-headed ancient to the toddling infant just taking his first lessons in walking. The sun pours his rays in streams over this landscape; odours of ineffable sweetness escape from the flower-laden bushes, and the birds sing amongst the branches. We push as far as possible ahead of the army to revel, free and untroubled, in the glorious beauty of the scene.
At length the roll of our drums is echoed by a similar sound from afar, shouts are heard, men run to meet us, soldiers appear. Kadjoro is advancing to welcome his ally Munza. Despite the simplicity of his manner and customs, he has seized on the opportunity for display. An African sovereign could never deny himself that pleasure.
CHAPTER XI.
The King of the Maleggas took his royal brother by the hand, and led him towards an immense baobab, underneath which he is in the habit of holding his receptions and administering justice. A space of about twenty square yards is carpeted with ox hides, and trunks of trees, covered with hyæna, lion, and leopard skins, serve for the throne and its surrounding seats.
Whilst we lingered behind the two chiefs, and in the midst of their respective escorts, I examined Kadjoro. He is a man about thirty years of age, tall and robust. His manner is a mixture of the rustic and the warrior. His features are regular and agreeable; his eyes black, fine and full of expression; his hair, or, to describe it more correctly, his mane is parted in the middle of his forehead, and falls behind his ears in numerous twists, reaching to the shoulders. Feathers of the ostrich, eagle and vulture are stuck at intervals in this thick wool. In his left hand he holds a shield of buffalo hide, in his right a club, and, after the manner of his tribe, a portion of his body is covered with a pair of very ample breeches. Looking only at his features, his physiognomy generally, and his olive complexion, one might take him for a European; his mane, ornaments, and tattoo-marks make him a savage, "but a very handsome savage," affirms Miss Poles, who has already, from behind her blue spectacles, made her little observations, and gives us the benefit of them.
"Take care," said de Morin to me in a whisper, "she is quite capable of falling in love with Kadjoro, and indulging in some fresh folly."