“I know your father; I promised him that I would search for you, and now I have found you. There can be no mistake about it. He told me that his son’s name was Chando, and you say your father’s name was Baraka, that he disappeared, and has never since come back. I would far rather have found you than made my escape, or returned to the coast the possessor of hundreds of elephants’ tusks.”
Sayd’s exclamations of surprise somewhat interrupted Ned’s remarks as he translated them to Chando. The latter almost let his load drop in his agitation as he asked, “Is Baraka—is my father still alive? O my young master, can you take me to him? Can you find my mother, that we may be together and be once more happy as we were before he was carried away to become a slave?”
“The very thing I wish to do,” answered Ned. “I will try to get your master to give you your freedom at once; or, if he will not now do so, as soon as we return to the coast.”
So deeply interested were Ned and his companions in the discovery he had made, that they forgot for a time their fatigue and their thirst. Even Sambroko and young Hassan listened eagerly.
“I know where Kamwawi is!” exclaimed the huge black. “It is to the north-west, but it would take many days to reach. It is a fine country, and the people are brave and warlike; though the slave hunters sometimes go there to trap the natives, they seldom venture to attack the villages.”
“It is true, it is true!” answered Chando. “I was captured whilst out hunting elephants with some other lads. They all died—I alone lived; and after being sold several times became the slave of Abdullah. It was better than being sent away on board a dhow to be carried to some far off land, where I might have been ill-treated by strangers, and have no chance of meeting with any of my own people.”
“We must try to reach Kamwawi, and endeavour to ascertain whether Chando’s mother is still alive. I promised her husband to bring her back as well as her son if I could find them. It would be a glorious thing to rescue both,” exclaimed Ned.
“To do that would be impossible,” answered Sayd. “Abdullah will not lead the caravan so far away for such an object. Even should we reach the village you speak of, we should be looked upon as enemies, besides which, the woman is by this time dead, or is married to another husband, and she would not wish to quit her home to go to a distant country for the mere chance of finding her husband alive. You must give up the idea, my friend; the undertaking, I repeat, is impossible.”
Ned made no reply, there was too much truth, he feared, in Sayd’s remarks. For some time he tramped on, thinking over the matter. At last he again turned to the Arab—
“Sayd,” he exclaimed, “I want you to do me a favour—to obtain Chando’s liberty. If you have to purchase his freedom, as I suppose you must, I will promise, when we return to the coast, to repay you the cost, whatever it may be.”