“And what will happen?” said I.
“Well, they’ll kill Gioro before he has been very long among them. Sooner or later they always kill the blacks that have been among white men.”
“And then,” struck in Jack, “I suppose they will kill us.”
“They may and they may not. You have ten times a better chance that Gioro. But if they don’t you will be as good as their slaves for life. You won’t be able to get back unless they take you back, and they will never take you back.”
“Suppose we start to return on our own account?”
“Well,” said the man, “if you are not more than forty or fifty miles to the west of the wire when you [56] ]make the start eastward, and if you are able to make straight for the wire you may get back. But if you are much further away, or if you have to go a long way round you’ll die of thirst or hunger in the bush.” I noticed that he put thirst first.
“And, mind,” he went on, “the chances are that you will be three times fifty miles to the west before you think of turning back.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s easy enough to travel with the blacks, easy enough for men of your sort, men that are hardy and are up to larks. The blacks know how to get food and water and fire, and you can live while in their company. It’s only when you leave them that you will be done for.”
Here Jack chimed in again. “Never mind,” said he, “Mr. Easterley and I are going to try it, win or lose. Besides, after what you have told us, I wouldn’t let poor ‘Jo’ go alone. We’ll save him and he’ll help us.”