That same night, after a sumptuous repast, Guy Chutney, at Sir Arthur's request, modestly related the story of their adventures to the most interested audience that ever graced the walls of the residency. A breathless silence greeted the speaker as he showed the damnable proofs of Manuel Torres' guilt and treachery, and described with thrilling effect the awful journey through the bowels of the earth. When he concluded the tale that made him a hero in spite of himself, a burst of applause fairly made the residency tremble.
Then Sir Arthur rose to his feet.
"Gentlemen," he said, in a voice which quivered with emotion, "I deem this to be a fitting time to express my—to express our—admiration of my young countryman. All my comrades, I am glad to say, displayed a heroism, during our days of trial and suffering, which has never been surpassed by any men in any clime. But, if one man is worthy of special mention for cool bravery, for dogged perseverance, for unflinching, unwavering fortitude and unselfishness, that man is Guy Chutney. Gentlemen," he continued, raising his glass, "I ask you to drink with me to the health of the bravest man I ever met—Guy Chutney."
Again a frantic outburst of applause shook the building, and the toast was drunk with indescribable enthusiasm. But Guy strove to make himself heard above the uproar.
"It is unfair," he said earnestly, when quiet had been partially restored, "of Sir Arthur to credit me with what I am aware is far more than my just due. Truthfully, it should be said that no one of us surpassed his fellows in displaying the qualities Sir Arthur has just enumerated. Such an experience is enough for a lifetime, but if I am ever again called upon to face such perils as we encountered while under Africa, may God grant that I have for comrades such true-hearted, loyal friends as these."
Carrington, Forbes, and Canaris each spoke briefly in turn; and Bildad, under the undue excitement of some wine he had managed to secure, attempted to perform a Galla war-dance on the table, and was promptly relegated to the guard-house to sober up.
At midnight a steamer left Zaila for Aden with the glad news, and twenty-four hours later the streets of London were blocked with crowds of people reading the amazing telegram that the newspapers had posted on their bulletin boards.
Colonel Conyers Gordon, of course, was not governor of Zaila at all, and though it must have been a sore disappointment to the brave old soldier, he readily and gladly installed Sir Arthur in the residency and assumed his former command of the troops.
Sir Arthur, however, had very different views. "Do you mean to say, Gordon," he demanded, "that the government actually gave me up for lost, and had no intention of sending an expedition after me at all?"
Colonel Gordon hesitatingly admitted that such was the case.