“He is dead,” replied Adams.
“Ah!” said Berselius; there was almost a note of relief in his voice. He said nothing more and Adams volunteered no explanation, for the affair was one entirely between Meeus, himself, and God.
A few minutes later, Berselius, who seemed deep in thought, raised his head again.
“We must get away from here. I am nearly strong enough to go now. It will be a rough journey in these rains, but it will be a much shorter road than the road we came by.”
“How so?”
“We came from Yandjali right through the forest before striking south to here; we will now make straight for the river, along the rubber road. I think the post on the river which we will reach is called M’Bina, it is a hundred miles above Yandjali; we can get a boat from there to Leopoldsville. I have been thinking it all out this morning.”
“These soldiers here know the rubber track, for they often escort the loads.”
“Good,” said Adams. “I will have some sort of litter rigged up and we will carry you. I am not going to let you walk in your present condition.”
Berselius bowed his head.