Before the dawn came up the party were on the move.
They marched less than a mile from their camping ground and then faltered and stopped.
"There is no sign, lord," the leader reported, and Elebi called him a fool and went to investigate.
But there was no red flannel, not a sign of it. They went on another mile without success.
"We have taken the wrong path, let us return," said Elebi, and the party retraced its steps to the camp they had abandoned. That day was spent in exploring the country for three miles on either side, but there was no welcome blaze to show the trail.
"We are all N'Gombi men," said Elebi, "let us to-morrow go forward, keeping the sun at our back; the forest has no terrors for the N'Gombi folk—yet I cannot understand why the white man's magic failed."
"Devils!" muttered his lieutenant sullenly.
Elebi eyed him thoughtfully.
"Devils sometimes desire sacrifices," he said with significance, "the wise goat does not bleat when the priest approaches the herd."
In the morning a great discovery was made. A crumpled piece of flannel was found on the outskirts of the camp. It lay in the very centre of a path, and Elebi shouted in his joy.