"And is he now stopping at Ujiji?"
"Yes, we left him there eight days ago."
"How long is he going to stay there?"
"Don't know."
"Was he ever there before?"
"Yes; he went away a long time ago."
Stanley gave a shout of exultation, exclaiming: "It is Livingstone!"
Then came the thought, it may be some other man. Perhaps it is Baker, who has worked his way in there before me. It was a crushing thought, that after all his sufferings, and sickness, and toils, he should have been anticipated, and that there was now nothing left for him but to march back again. "No!" he exclaimed to himself: "Baker has no white hair on his face." But he could now wait no longer, and turning to his men, he asked them if they were willing to march to Ujiji without a single halt. If they were, he would, on their arrival, present each two doti of cloth. They all shouted, "Yes!" Stanley jots down: "I was madly rejoiced, intensely eager to resolve the burning question, 'Is it Dr. Livingstone?' God grant me patience; but I do wish there was a railroad, or at least, horses, in this country. With a horse I could reach him in twelve hours."
But new dangers confronted him. The chiefs became more exhorbitant in their demands and more hostile in their demonstrations, and but for Stanley's eagerness to get on, he would more than once have fought his way through some of those pertinacious tribes. But his patience, at last, gave out, for he was told after he had settled the last tribute that there were five more chiefs ahead who would exact tribute. This would beggar him, and he asked two natives if there was no way of evading the next chief, named Wahha.