They had been on the march for an hour when Adams, fussing like a person who is making his first journey by rail, stopped the guide to make sure he was leading them right.
“M’Bassa?” said Adams.
“M’Bassa,” replied the other, nodding his head. Then with outspread hand he pointed before them and made a semicircular sweep to indicate that he was leading them for some reason by a circuitous route.
He was making, in fact, for open ground that would bring them in the direction of the fort by a longer but much easier road than a direct line through the jungle. He was making also for water, for his scant supply had been exhausted by his guests, and he knew the road he was taking would lead him to broad pools of water. Adams nodded his head to imply that he understood, and the man led on.
CHAPTER XXIX
THE VISION OF THE POOLS
Somewhere about noon they halted for a rest and some food. It was less boggy here, and the sunlight showed stronger through the dense roof of foliage. The cassava cakes were tainted with must, and they had no water, but the increasing light made them forget everything but the freedom that was opening before them.
Adams pointed to the empty calabash which their guide carried, and the collector nodded and pointed before them, as if to imply that soon they would come to water and that all would be well.