“There’s no great mystery about it,” answered Hans. “When we were told this morning that you were captured and in danger of being killed, of course we started immediately, and have been travelling all day in hot haste to your rescue.”
“But how was it possible for you to learn that we were in trouble?”
“From Sindo, the man Macora was going to kill for his ambition.”
Sindo, then, had not been ungrateful; he had walked, or rather run, all night, to give warning of the danger threatening those to whom he owed his life. Having no influence among their captors, he knew that the only plan for serving the captives was to give notice to those who had power to assist them. This act of gratitude he had successfully accomplished.
There is many a slip between the cup and the lip. The adage was in their case illustrated. But for the mention of Sindo’s name, as the captives were being conducted to the place of execution, awakening in the Zooloo’s mind a suspicion of treachery, the rescuers would have arrived too late. The delay caused by the inquiry after Sindo, at the village, was that which had caused the cup to slip.
The released captives now inquired for Sindo, wishing to embrace him.
He was not upon the ground. Completely exhausted with his long run, he had not been able to return with the deliverers, but had remained at the camp, where the hopo was being constructed.
No time was lost in staying by a spot fraught with so many unpleasant memories; and by the dawn of day our adventurers and their African friends were well on the way towards their encampment.
On reaching it they found Swartboy in a state of strange mental confusion, through joy at their return, and anger at Congo, for having allowed those under his care to get into such terrible trouble.
The service that Sindo had rendered his white friends fully re-established him in the favour of Macora, and he was invited to make his home again among his own people,—an invitation that was eagerly accepted.