"And this you shall say to Sandi," said the chief to his trusted messenger, "that Arachi is rich with the richness of silver, and that silver has the devil marks of Zanzibar—being the home of all traders, as your lordship knows."
Next day, at dawn, Bosambo and his guide departed. They paddled throughout the day, taking the smaller stream that drained the eastern side of the river, and at night they camped at a place called Bolulu, which means "the changed land."
They rose with the daylight to resume their journey. But it was unnecessary, for, in the darkness before the dawn, Abdul Hazim had surrounded the camp, and, at the persuasive muzzle of a Snider rifle, Bosambo accompanied his captors ten minutes' journey into the wood where Abdul awaited him.
The slaver, sitting before the door of his tent on his silken carpet, greeted his captive in the Ochori dialect. Bosambo replied in Arabic.
"Ho, Bosambo!" said Abdul. "Do you know me?"
"Sheikh," said Bosambo, "I would know you in hell, for you are the man whose head my master desires."
"Bosambo," said Abdul calmly, "your head is more valuable, so they say, for the Liberians will put it upon a pole, and pay me riches for my enterprise."
Bosambo laughed softly. "Let the palaver finish," he said, "I am ready to go."
They brought him to the river again, tied him to a pole, and laid him in the bottom of a canoe, Arachi guarding him.
Bosambo, looking up, saw the borrower squatting on guard.