Ned trudged on with it manfully for some minutes, but soon began to feel the weight oppressive. Sambroko observed him, and, taking hold of the load, swung it on his own back and carried it a considerable distance. Then calling to the young pagazi bade him carry it forward.
Ned begged Sayd to thank Sambroko, who answered, that though he could no longer bear to see his master’s friend thus fatigue himself, the young pagazi must expect no further help from him.
“But I must try and help him, for I could not bear to see the poor fellow sink down and die as so many are doing.”
“There is nothing strange in that,” remarked Sambroko. “I once crossed a desert larger than this, and one half our number were left behind; but we got through and returned during the wet season with large cargoes of ivory, and our masters, for I was then a slave, were well content.”
Sayd translated to Ned what was said.
“I wonder the Arabs venture into a country where so many lose their lives,” said Ned.
“The profits are great,” answered Sayd. “Men will dare and do anything for gain; each hopes to be more fortunate than his predecessor.”
The young slave, greatly rested and refreshed by the water, and even more by the sympathy shown him, marched forward with an almost elastic step.
“O young master!” he said, looking at Ned, “my heart feels light. I thought no one cared for poor Chando; but I now know that there are kind men in the world.”
Sayd explained the meaning of the black’s words.