The men went off singing, six men to each section, and in the afternoon the Okapi was once more in her proper element.
"And which way will you go, Ngonyama?"
"We have thought it over during the rains, chief. We will go back through the open water, back past the place where we landed in the forest, back into the great river, and then south, even to the farthest reaches of the Congo, when we shall be among people I know. There we will get carriers to take the boat to the waters of another great river, the Zambesi."
"Towards the setting sun," said Muata. "And you will want a man?"
"Two men, we would ask; and one of them, the Angoni warrior, who did so well in the fight, for his country is to the south."
"Only one man you can have," said the chief, shortly.
They had said their good-bye to the people in the valley, who had wept at their departure, for the white men had done much for them, and never before had they borne the visitation of the rains with so little discomfort.
Now they said good-bye to the chief, the man who had shared so much of danger with them, whose shield had been their shield, whose spear had been theirs to command.
It was difficult to say good-bye, for he seemed moody, answered them in monosyllables, and at last, after a curt nod, left them long before they were ready to go. And when at last they were heading down the broad river to the old pleasant music of the clanging levers, the edge of their joy was blunted by the thought of the warrior's lowering looks.
"I'm sorry," said Mr. Hume, for the third time.