Tom stopped short.
"Look here, Mbutu," he said, "an idea has just struck me. You mustn't be seen at first. If that scamp of a guide sees you, he will suspect something, and our long journey may be thrown away. I must go on first. He doesn't know me."
"Berrah well, sah; all same for one."
"You're not afraid, are you? I shouldn't like a wild animal to run off with my katikiro."
Mbutu grinned.
"No 'fraid dis time, sah. Sah him uncle drive all wild beast away; all dat nize, sah; wild beast no like nize; make him tummick bad too much, sah."
"Well, I needn't leave you yet. They're still about five miles ahead, I should think, and they're almost over the hill-top now. When we get within sight of the rear-guard again, I'll go on, and you must keep in touch till you're sent for."
Tom's feet by this time were giving him torture. He felt horribly fagged, and, realizing how hungry he was, he sighed, above all things in the world, for a juicy steak and a jug of shandy-gaff, such as used to await the school fifteen after a hard house match. "But I'm not going to give in at the death," he said to himself doggedly. "And I should think another couple of hours would do it."
He crossed the hill, and saw the tail-end of the force not more than two miles ahead, just passing into a clump of trees, on the near side of which were two or three native huts.
"That's where you must stay, Mbutu. It's about four o'clock now, so the force will be camping very soon, and we shan't be far ahead of you. Now, I'm going on. Good-bye for the present; I fancy you'll see me again after dark."