"Now, Mr. Shaw, I am waiting, sir. Mount your donkey, if you cannot walk."
"Please, Mr. Stanley, I am afraid I cannot go."
"Why?"
"I don't know, I am sure. I feel very weak."
"So am I weak. It was but late last night, as you know, that the fever left me. Don't back out before these Arabs; remember you are a white man. Here, Selim, Mabruki, Bombay, help Mr. Shaw on his donkey, and walk by him."
"Oh, bana, bans," said the Arabs, "don't take him. Do you not see he is sick?"
"You keep away; nothing will prevent me from taking him. He shall go."
"Go on, Bombay."
The last of my party had gone. The tembe, so lately a busy scene, had already assumed a naked, desolate appearance. I turned towards the Arabs, lifted my hat, and said again, "Farewell," then faced about for the south, followed by my four young gun-bearers, Selim, Kalulu, Majwara, and Belali.
After half an hour's march the scenery became more animated. Shaw began to be amused. Bombay had forgotten our quarrel, and assured me, if I could pass Mirambo's country, I should "catch the Tanganika;" Mabruki Burton also believed we should. Selim was glad to leave Unyanyembe, where he had suffered so much from fever; and there was a something in the bold aspect of the hills which cropped upward—above fair valleys, that enlivened and encouraged me to proceed.