“And what will happen then?”
“England,” answered the captain.
During the rest of the journey Stasch told them about the trip to Fashoda, about the death of old Dinah, their departure from Fashoda, their journey to uninhabited districts, and their search for Smain. When he came to the part where he had killed the lion and then Gebhr and Chamis and the two Bedouins, the captain interrupted him, exclaiming, “All right!” and once more grasping his right hand. He and Clary continued to listen with increasing interest about the taming of King, their dwelling in “Cracow,” Nell’s fever, the finding of Linde, and the kites, which the children sent up from the Karamajo Mountains. The doctor, who grew fonder of little Nell day by day, was so especially interested in all that had threatened to harm her that from time to time he had to strengthen himself with a drop of brandy, and when Stasch began to relate how she had nearly become the prey of the terrible wobo he took the little girl in his arms, and would not let her go for some time, as if afraid that some new beast of prey might threaten her life.
What he and the captain thought of Stasch was expressed in two telegrams which they sent off two weeks later (after they had reached the foot of Kilima-Njaro) by messengers, who had orders to forward as soon as possible to the two fathers.
The first telegram was carefully worded and sent to Port Said. It was as follows:
“Thanks to the boy, have good news of the children. Come to Mombasa.”
The second was more explicit and addressed to Aden. It read:
“The children are safe in our hands. The boy a hero!”
They made a halt of two weeks on the cool summits of Kilima-Njaro, for Dr. Clary urged this on account of the health of Nell and of Stasch. The children adored this sky-high mountain, which possessed every kind of climate imaginable. Its two peaks, Kibo and Mawenzi, were usually clothed in thick mists during the day, but when the mists suddenly lifted on clear evenings the everlasting snows on the summit of Mawenzi shone with a rosy glow, reflected from the sunset, while all the rest of the world was already wrapped in darkness—the mountain resembled a shining altar of God. At this sight the children unconsciously folded their hands in prayer.
For Stasch the days of worry, anxiety, and trouble were over. They now had a journey of a month before reaching Mombasa, and the road lay through the beautiful but unhealthy Tawet forest. How much easier was it now to travel over well-known roads with a numerous and well-equipped caravan than to wander around in an unknown wilderness accompanied by Kali and Mea. Besides, Captain Glen now took charge of the journey. Stasch recovered and went hunting. Having found a chisel and hammer among the tools of the caravan, he set to work during the cool hours to chisel on a large gneiss rock the following inscription: “Poland is not lost yet!” for he wished to leave at least a trace of their sojourn in this country. The Englishmen, to whom he translated the inscription, were surprised that the boy had not thought of perpetuating his own name by carving it on a rock in Africa. But he preferred the sentiments he had chiseled on it.