He told us afterwards that he was so scared he hardly dared breathe, and although he knew [[40]]they could not see him, he trembled with fear as long as they were near.
Late at night, after the visitors had left, his mistress took some food out to him, and told him to remain there until the morning, when probably her husband’s anger would be finished. Then he might come back to the village. He did so, and the affair passed without further trouble.
All this decided us that we would not remain in such a place of danger a day longer than we could help. I was older now, and had grown big and strong, and once across the river I knew that a warm welcome would be accorded to me and any who went with me. Our only fear was of recapture before we could reach the river, but we all felt it was worth risking, so from that time we began in dead earnest to look out for an opportunity of running away.
Not so very long after the chief and some of his people went to pay a visit and remained over night. All was quiet in the village, and no one troubled about us boys, so in the dense darkness of a moonless night we gathered together.
Hastily we made our plans, picked up the little food we had saved from our evening meal, [[41]]grasped our hunting spears and knives, and slipped away into the bush at the back of the village. We went very stealthily—nya-nya, like a leopard when he is stalking his prey—scared at every sound, starting at the snapping of a twig, the call of a night-bird or the whistle of an insect.
On and on we pressed, not daring to speak to each other, lest we might betray our whereabouts to some unfriendly native, or one who was friendly to our masters, scarcely able to see the path, for the moon had not yet risen, scratching ourselves as we passed thorny bushes, treading on sticks and roots of trees projecting from the ground—and still on—what mattered wounds or weariness if at last we reached the river and liberty?
We made good progress during the first few hours, and were not much afraid of pursuit, as our flight would not be discovered until morning; but by and by some of our party (which consisted of a man and his wife with a little child as well as three of us boys) began to get weary, and it was necessary that we should get away from the main road, lest we should be overtaken. So we turned off into a side road, and at a little distance from it we [[42]]found a large fallen tree which made a good hiding-place. There we lay down and slept for some time, one of us taking turns at watching and listening.
In the morning we were startled by hearing voices not far off, and as we listened we recognised them as belonging to natives of the village we had left. Yes, they had awakened to find us gone; and now a search party was out scouring the forest in every direction for signs of us. We dared not move nor speak, and how anxious we were that the child should not cry! Nearer and nearer came the voices till they sounded almost close at hand, and then they receded gradually, and at last died away in the distance. We were nearly caught, but not quite!
After waiting for some time, we went out to look round, and on the main road we traced the footprints of our pursuers distinctly; they had passed our footpath by, and so we escaped recapture. From now onwards we had to keep to bypaths, sometimes cutting our way through dense forest, spending our nights under fallen trees or on the ground, hungry and weary; but in spite of all our difficulties we reached the river bank at last. [[43]]
We were still far from home, but once on the other bank we would at least be safe from pursuit. Our people have a proverb, “Nta fendaka ntandu la mposa e’ola”—that is, “You cannot cross the river by means of a thirst for home.” This is certainly a true saying, so we had to seek for a canoe to take us over. One of our party set out along the bank to see if there were any moored there, as people often go out fishing and leave their canoes with no one to look after them. This was our hope, and it was fulfilled.