"Hould yer whisht!" interrupted the doctor. "Do ye not see the lad's dead-beat entirely! The blazes 'll keep. Really, Major, there's something at the bottom of this, or he would not be here. He needs some food first thing; you've got your tent up, I see. Well then, I'll get Saladin to make some Liebig, and when I've had my innings with the bhoy--well, blaze away if you must."
The major said no more. His tent was pitched in the centre of a thorn zariba a hundred and twenty yards square, and the men were busily engaged in running up grass huts and entrenching the camp. Tom was carried to the tent, where in a very short time the energetic little doctor had a steaming bowl of beef-tea, some substantial biscuits, and a bottle of burgundy ready for him. He ought, after his meal, said the doctor, to go to sleep, but Tom declared he could not rest until he had explained his presence, and the doctor gave way, being indeed not a little curious to hear Tom's story. He therefore fetched the major, who was indefatigable in his personal superintendence of the camping arrangements, and, with a private hint to him not to be peppery, brought him into the tent.
They listened attentively as Tom told how Mbutu had come to him on the night of the starting of the expedition, and, on learning that Tom was the major's nephew, had reported the conversation he had overheard; and how he had come with the boy on the padre's launch to the mouth of the Ruezi, and thence by canoe and overland. The major was at first inclined to pooh-pooh the story altogether, but when the doctor pointed out that unless there was some truth in it, the Portuguese would have had no object in pursuing Tom so hotly, he looked grave, and tugged at the ends of his moustache.
"But he had other grounds for annoyance. Nobody likes to be knocked down--and certainly not a Portuguese. But where's that boy of yours, by the by? I will see him myself."
"I told him to wait a couple of miles out, so as not to be seen by your guide," replied Tom.
"Quite right; but it's dark now. I'll send a couple of men to bring him in. We must see how this remarkable story squares with present circumstances."
The major returned rather more than an hour later. "Hasn't that black boy turned up yet?" he asked.
"Give'm time," answered the doctor. "'Tis two miles out and two miles in, remember."
"Well, he won't be long now. By the way, Tom, what race does he belong to?--Banyoro, Baganda, or what?"
"He's a Bahima," replied Tom.