A GULF THAT WAS BRIDGED
The general rout of Zveri's forces ended only when their last camp had been reached and even then only for part of the command, for as night fell it was discovered that fully twenty-five percent of the men were missing, and among the absentees were Zora and Romero. As the stragglers came in, Zveri questioned each about the girl, but no one had seen her. He tried to organize an expedition to go back in search of her, but no one would accompany him. He threatened and pleaded, only to discover that he had lost all control of his men. Perhaps he would have gone back alone, as he insisted that he intended doing; but he was relieved of this necessity when, well after dark, the two walked into camp together.
At sight of them Zveri was both relieved and angry. "Why didn't you remain with me?" he snapped at Zora.
"Because I cannot run so fast as you," she replied, and Zveri said no more.
From the darkness of the trees above the camp came the now familiar warning. "Desert the whites!" A long silence followed this, broken only by the nervous whisperings of the blacks, and then the voice spoke again. "The trails to your own countries are free from danger, but death walks always with the white men. Throw away your uniforms and leave the white men to the jungle and to me."
A black warrior leaped to his feet and stripped the French uniform from his body, throwing it upon a cooking fire that burned near him. Instantly others followed his example.
"Stop that!" cried Zveri.
"Silence, white man!" growled Kitembo.
"Kill the whites!" shouted a naked Basembo warrior.
Instantly there was a rush toward the whites, who were gathered near Zveri, and then from above them came a warning cry. "The whites are mine!" it cried. "Leave them to me."