“What dost thou think, Simba?” asked Selim.
“I can’t think of anything, young master, except that he is not here, and we don’t know what has become of the brave young chief without whose aid none of us would have been so far on our way home;” and the generous-hearted man wept aloud, and his weeping had a sad effect on all.
“And shall we see—never more see Kalulu?” sobbed Abdullah; “never more see him who saved me from the jaws of the monster in the Liemba, who freed us from bondage, who was our friend and brother, who has been everything to us, the kindest, best, the noblest Pagan child that ever breathed?”
“He who saved me from death in the forest, who made me his brother, and stood by me through many troubles—who on my account threatened Ferodia, and from that lost his kingdom—with whom I have roamed through plain and forest, and have talked so often with as a brother—the dearest and best brother I can ever have!” cried Selim.
“Stay, young masters, do not give way to such tears. Kalulu may not be lost. He may return to the camp this afternoon. I am going out now to look for him again, and to see if I cannot get something for us to eat,” cried Moto. “Meantime, hope; stranger things than his return have happened.”
The boys and Simba looked their gratitude, as, next to Kalulu, they knew that Moto was the best woodsman of the party. Moto strode off in the direction of the Unyanyembe road.
At night he returned, bringing on his back a fat young antelope, and news which made all start.
Said he, while he and Simba turned to prepare some of the meat: “I went along the same road that master Selim went this morning. I crossed a ‘mbuga’ (small plain), and came to a thick forest. Soon after entering the wood I saw on the left-hand side of the road a yellow heap of earth which a wild boar had made above his burrow. I went up to it, and what do ye think I saw?—the marks of two feet of a boy. They were small and narrow, not broad and large, like a man’s foot—Simba’s or mine—would be. They must have been Kalulu’s. He had jumped on that yellow mound, for the toes had sunk deeper in than the heels. I went on, where the leaves had been disturbed, but all marks were soon lost. However, I went further on in that direction, and in about half an hour I came to a camp, not fenced round, but where fires had been kindled. The ashes below the surface were slightly warm. If Kalulu is anywhere, I feel sure that Kalulu is with those people. But who are those people? Are they Waruga-ruga (bandits)? Are they Wanyamwezi? Are they natives? Are they Arabs? This is a ‘polini’ (wilderness); there is no village near here. Where have those people gone to?”
“Let us go on, then, and find out; let us follow this road until we come to some village where we can ask?” said Simba.
“Yes, yes,” said Selim, “let us go.”