“IN THIS FASHION WE FLEW ALONG THE PATH.”
I rode fast all through the night, my horse showing splendid spirit and pluck, and at sunrise halted on the banks of a river. Leaving my hard-ridden beast to cool a little first, I then watered him and, cutting some guinea-corn stalks from a patch near by, gave him a good feed, munching some myself at the same time and quenching my thirst at the river. Then, after about two hours’ rest, I proceeded, but at a lesser speed.
I rode all that day and well into the night, finally resting by the pool where I had cooled my heated brow on the way to Kontogora. After some hours’ halt I pushed on again, obtaining food at farmhouses on the way, and next evening, utterly weary, arrived at the Niger opposite Boussa. My journey was over; I was safe at last! Arriving at my quarters in the Niger Company’s compound, I flung myself down on my camp bed just as I was and slept for sixteen hours.
The faithful Mama turned up four days later. He went to Yauri, a friendly State, coming down river by canoe. For his services I presented him with the Emir of Kontogora’s horse.
During all the years that have gone by since my secret trip to Kontogora and my subsequent escape I have never regretted having run the double risk of disobeying orders on the one hand and risking my life on the other. I had been instructed to get news and I got it—not the idle tales of paid spies, but a record of sights seen and things heard with my own eyes and ears.
A Voyage on an Ice-Floe.
By Dr. Wilfred T. Grenfell, C.M.G.
Dr. Grenfell may be described as the “Good Angel of Labrador,” having for years devoted himself to ministering to the hardy toilers who live in that grim land of snow, ice, and fog. In this enthralling story he describes how, while on an errand of mercy, he and his dog-team got adrift in the open sea on a tiny cake of ice; how he killed three of the dogs to provide himself with warm clothing; how he made a flagstaff out of their bones; and how he was finally rescued when hope was well-nigh dead.