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.
“Then,” cried Sir Arthur, “I wash my hands of such a government. I will go home to England, and may the infernal Arabs hang, draw, and quarter me if I ever set foot on African soil again.”
“I trust, Sir Arthur,” argued Colonel Gordon, “you will not act hastily in this matter. You will admit that the government was somewhat justified in believing your case a hopeless one. The fate of you and your brave companions was thought by everybody to have been nothing short of death. I am sure, had the authorities had the slightest idea that you were living, an expedition would have been sent out. No stone would have been left unturned to rescue you.”
“Well,” said Sir Arthur, somewhat mollified, “I cannot deny that things pointed to our demise. We expected to see you again as little as you expected to see us, probably.”