As the Manyema hurried on with elastic stride, the gentle swinging motion of the litter appeared to revive him partially. The moon had just risen, and Tom, opening his eyes, fancied that he was being borne along by the Soudanese who had carried him into camp the day before. His lips moved, and the bearers started when they heard their helpless prisoner muttering light-headedly until he dozed again into quietude.
After the negroes had tramped for about an hour, following a narrow track by the light of moon and stars, they were stopped by an Arab who came suddenly out of the forest, and demanded of them who they were. He looked with interest at the pale face of the sleeping stripling in the litter, and informed the carriers that he himself was one of a number of scouts left at various points along the track of the Arab chief, to direct stragglers to head-quarters. After the second repulse, and his single-handed fight with Tom, the chief had made no further attempt to rally his men, but struck due north, picking up several parties of fugitives on the way. At the distance of some few miles from the scene of his disaster he knew of a ford over the river, at which he crossed, continuing thence his march in a westerly direction until he reached the right bank of the River Ntungwe, not far from its entrance into Lake Albert Edward. There he encamped for the night, leaving word of his whereabouts, as has been shown, and appointing a general rendezvous at a village on the farther bank of the Rutchuru.
All this the four Manyema learnt from the Arab scout, who, while speaking, had helped himself to Tom's watch and chain, roughly telling the negroes that he would shoot them if they breathed a word of that little performance to the chief. He then allowed them to proceed. They soon afterwards struck into a path leading to the ford, crossed the river under a ghostly moonlight, and reached the encampment an hour before dawn.
Their arrival was not the important event they had anticipated. Shortly before, the Wanyabinga chief against whose village the British expedition was directed, and who had brought a contingent to the Arab force, had come into camp to plead with the Arab for one more attempt to destroy Major Burnaby's little army. He had himself done all he could, he said; he had "eaten up" all his rivals in the neighbouring villages for a score of miles round, in order to starve the British force; his knowledge of the country had proved invaluable to the Arabs in their raids for ivory; and it was due to information given by him that the ambush from which he had expected so much had been planned. It was unfortunate, a calamity only to be ascribed to some ju-ju or medicine-man, that the ambush had failed; but for all that, he contended, his services still merited some reward. If his lord Mustapha was not prepared to make a direct assault on the expeditionary force, he might at least help in the defence of the speaker's village, which was encircled by a triple stockade, and impregnable, he thought, if strongly held.
Now the poor Wanyabinga chief had all along been the dupe of his astute Arab ally. Mustapha had used him entirely for his own ends. He had instigated the acts of insubordination and treachery which Major Burnaby was proceeding to punish, persuading the credulous negro that the white man would before long be altogether expelled from the lake country, and promising, when that happy day came, to establish him, the native chief, as King of Uganda. But the Arab was furious at the failure of his cherished scheme. He was beside himself with rage, ready to vent it on whatever person or thing came first in his way. His answer to the black chief's plea was a brutal laugh, a curse, a jibe. The Wanyabinga attempted to bring him to reason. "When I am king of Uganda," he said, "I will repay your kindness with hundreds upon hundreds of slaves, and untold wealth of ivory." "You king of Uganda!" retorted Mustapha derisively; "you will one day carry my wash-pot and tie the latchets of my shoe!" The man protested, whereupon the Arab flew into a passion, and, drawing his sword, declared flatly that he would slice the importunate wretch into little pieces if he did not immediately withdraw from his presence. The negro hastily departed, nursing wild purposes of vengeance in his heart.
It was just after this scene that the four tired Manyema brought Tom into the camp. They sought an interview with the chief. He declined to see them. They sent word to him that they had with them a wounded officer of the British force. His answer was that they might kill him and eat him if they pleased. Astonished and crestfallen, they were considering with one another what to do with their captive when the chief's hakim appeared on the scene. Put in possession of the facts, he advised the men to attempt nothing further with Mustapha in his present temper; in the meantime he himself would be answerable for the prisoner. The negroes were loth to let him go without some tangible recompense for their labour; but when the Arab glared at them, and threatened them with the mysteries of his art, with superstitious fear they left their unconscious burden and went moodily away.
Tom owed his life to the skilful tendance of the Arab physician. With such rough appliances and medicaments as he had at hand, the hakim dressed Tom's wounds; he then placed him in a comfortable position by his own watch-fire, and sat by him until daylight.
Tom awoke with the dawn, conscious of a terrible pain at the back of his head, and a feeling all over him of emptiness and collapse. He was too feeble even to be surprised when he saw the grave face of the Arab a few feet from his own.
"Where am I?" he whispered, and wondered at the scarcely audible sound of his own voice. The Arab shook his head. He knew no English. He went away, and returned presently with a cup of some warm liquid, which he administered in drops on a horn spoon. Tom was grateful for the attention; the Arab fed him thus for ten minutes, and the food revived him, bringing a touch of colour into his pale cheeks.
Almost immediately afterwards the order was given to strike camp. By eight o'clock the crowd was in motion. During the night some four hundred Arabs had rallied to the chief, as well as a number of their black allies. But the majority of the Manyema had had their confidence in the Arabs dismally shattered by the event of the previous day, and had dispersed to their homes.