Thanking the king for agreeing to our proposal we begged that we might set out immediately.
“Good-bye,” said Harry, “I wish that we could have all gone together, but I know you will come back for me, and I do not see how it otherwise could have been arranged.”
We forthwith commenced our march. The party was under the command of Prince Ombay, the king’s son, a good-natured, merry fellow, with whom Aboh seemed on very good terms. Charley and I were by this time well immured to fatigue, and our companions lightly clad were able to perform long distances each day. We met with no very interesting adventures, although I shot a deer, and Charley was fortunate enough to kill a buffalo which afforded a supply of meat to our companions, and raised us greatly in their estimation. At length we reached the neighbourhood of King Quagomolo’s village, when Prince Ombay proposed encamping, and allowing Charley and me with Aboh to go forward and complete our negotiations with King Quagomolo.
We had done our best to impress upon Aboh that he must not attempt any act of treachery, and that everything must be carried on in a peaceable manner: to this he agreed, and we hoped that we could trust him. When we entered the village the people gazed at us in astonishment. Aboh did not think fit to enlighten them as to the cause of our return. We went straight to the residence of the king.
“There he is,” exclaimed Charley, as we approached the house, and we found him sleeping in the shade of the rude veranda in front of it. As we were anxious to ascertain how it fared with Tom, leaving the king to finish his nap, we hurried off to our own house. Tom saw us and hastened out to greet us.
“I had given you up for lost, gentlemen, it does my heart good to see you. What has become of Mr Harry?” he asked.
We told him in a few words the object of our visit. “I think the chances are the king will listen to you,” he answered; “he came back very much out of spirits at being taken by surprise, and at the loss of so many of his people. I don’t think he has any stomach for a war with the other black king.”
This was satisfactory. Accompanied by Tom we went back to Quagomolo’s house. His majesty was rubbing his eyes and stretching himself after his nap. He looked greatly astonished at seeing us stand before him.
“Now tell him what we want,” said Charley to Aboh; “just hint that if he doesn’t agree to King Sanga Tanga’s demands he may expect to have his plantain groves cut down, and his village burned, and himself and his people carried off and sold to the slave traders.”
“Berry good reason for not saying No,” observed Aboh.