The rifle was accepted with thanks, and after the dinner Nick Carter gave Lord Slava a few lessons in handling it.
Early in the morning, three days later, the party of white men, with their four coolies carrying provisions, and with Jai Singh and Adil leading the way, departed for the mountain pass that would be their first stage on the way home.
Lord Slava sent an escort of a hundred men to get them through the pass, after loading the four coolies with presents for their employers.
These presents were mostly in the shape of jewels and golden ornaments, so that they were not very heavy, although the coolies were so loyal to Nick Carter that they would not have complained if they had had to carry much more than they did.
Slava had been chosen permanent governor of Shangore, and there was great rejoicing all through the Bolongu country, as well as in the city.
Before the soldiers who had brought them to the pass went back, Leslie Arnold and his father had a rather lengthy confab apart from the rest of their party.
“I want to send something back to Lord Slava,” said Leslie. “If it had not been for him, I shouldn’t be here now, in all probability. With Carter and you shut up in that dungeon, what chance would you have had of getting at me before that devilish beetle contrivance poisoned me to death?”
Jefferson Arnold shuddered. He knew too well how near he had come to losing his only son.
“You’re right there, Leslie,” he assented. “But what can we give to Slava? The man has more gold and silver and precious stones than he wants, as it is. I don’t know what we can give him that he would care for.”
“He would appreciate the sentiment of gratitude that prompted us, at all events,” returned the young man.