“You are right. So this kite can not have been sent up such a very long while ago.”
“If that is the case, then they can not be very far off by this time.”
This feverish, abrupt conversation lasted a little longer; then they both began to inspect the document again and to consider every word written on it. But it all seemed so improbable, that had it not come from a place where not even one European could be found—more than six hundred kilometers distant from the nearest coast—the doctor and the captain would have been inclined to think it a joke played by European or mission children after having read in the newspapers about the kidnapping. Still it was hard for them not to believe their eyes; for they had the kite in their hands, and the inscription, being scarcely blurred at all, was quite distinct.
Notwithstanding, there were many things about it that they could not understand. Where could the children have procured the paper for the kites? If they had obtained it from a caravan, they would have joined the caravan, and so would not have been obliged to ask for assistance. Why had the boy not tried to escape to Abyssinia with his little companion? Why had the Dervishes sent them to the east of the Nile in an unknown country? How had they been able to escape from the Dervishes? Where were they hiding? By what miracle had they not starved to death during this journey of many months? By what miracle had they not become the prey of wild beasts? Why had the savages not killed them? To all these questions they could find no answers.
“I can’t understand it. I can’t understand it!” repeated Dr. Clary. “It surely is a miracle of God’s working.”
“It would seem so!” answered the captain.
Then he added:
“But there’s a fine boy for you! This must be his work!”
“And he did not leave the little one in the lurch. God bless his head and his heart.”
“Stanley—yes, even Stanley—placed as he was, could not have kept up over three days.”