"Dat one," replied Lofembi, pointing to the nearer of the two huts.
He stepped forward into the clearing. At the same moment a score of dusky forms rose and closed in stealthily from the undergrowth around. With a little cry Samba plucked Jack by the sleeve. But almost unconsciously he shook off the detaining hand, so full of anxiety was he. His uncle must be very ill, or he would be standing by the tent to welcome him. He sprang forward, stopped, and raised the flap of the tent. By the light of a small oil lamp swinging from the top he saw a form stretched upon a camp bed.
"Uncle! uncle!" he cried, falling on his knees by the side of the prostrate figure.
A low murmur answered him. At the same moment he heard a sighing groan, as it were, from the entrance to the hut, and the sound of a heavy fall. Then the forest glade rang with fierce shouts and the crack of a rifle. Jack rose to his feet, confused by this sudden turmoil coming when his nerves were overstrung. As he half turned, a figure came out of the darkness towards him.
"Good efening, Mr. Shalloner," said a smooth voice.
Jack started back.
"Yes, it is me—Guillaume Elbel, bien entendu!"
[[1]] Leopoldville.