“I am not alone, then, as I thought; I have still some friends left,” sobbed Abdullah. “I thought all had left me.”
“Nay, weep not, Abdullah,” said Bimba. “Allah is good. Tell me, son of Mohammed, where are Selim, and Mussoud, and Isa?”
“Ah! Simba; evil days have been our fate ever since we came to Urori. Isa died of the small-pox soon after starting for Ututa; then, some days afterwards, Mussoud, my dear little brother, fell ill of the same disease and died; and Selim—”
“Yes, tell us where he is!” said Moto, eagerly.
“The same night that Mussoud was dying, Selim asked me to go with him to the forest; he said he could not live longer, while Tifum was beating him all the time; and to see the men and boys die on the road, and left to be eaten by beasts of prey, sickened his soul. I could not go while the fate of my little brother was uncertain, but I gave Selim my prayers, and after I had fallen asleep he must have gone, for he was not by my side when I awoke, and his yoke-tree was empty. I think he took with him a gun and some spears, for the Watuta who lost those things made a great noise about their loss.”
“Bun away!” said Simba and Moto, looking at one another blankly. “Selim gone! but, Abdullah, did he tell you which way he was going after he would leave you?”
“He said he intended to try to get to Zanzibar, but while I was dropping to sleep, or whether I dreamed it or not I can’t say, I thought I heard him mutter something about you, and Moto, and Katalambula.”
“Ay, that’s it, more likely,” said Moto. “He remembered our warning. The boy, if he is not here now, must be in that forest still. Did he say, Abdullah, whether he would go north or south first?”
“Oh, south, because the camp was on the southern side of the road, and our part of the camp was the most southerly; so it was easy for him to slip away unperceived.”
“And how many days from here, Abdullah, is the spot from whence Selim disappeared?”