No guide, however, was required to show them the way, as it was too clear by the dead bodies of men and women who had been wounded in the attack, and had sunk down from loss of blood, and frequently by those of very young children, whose weight had prevented their mothers from walking as fast as their cruel captors required.

Martin was anxious as soon as possible to overtake the enemy, that he might have a less distance to send back for the ransom which might be demanded for Kibo. He was therefore much disappointed when night again came on, and his party were compelled to encamp. They were fortunate in finding a spot near a pool, with high rocks and trees round it, where they could venture to light a fire and cook their provisions without the risk of being seen by the enemy.

The usual sounds heard at sunset in an African forest had ceased, and were succeeded by the silence which reigns at night. Martin's companions too, who had hitherto been talking to each other, had thrown themselves on the ground to sleep. He was about to follow their example, when a cry, which seemed to come from a distance, reached his ears. He listened attentively. It was repeated. He asked Masiko if he had heard anything. Masiko said that he had, but that it was the cry of a wild beast. Martin was almost sure it was a human voice, and that it came from the direction the enemy had taken. Anxious to ascertain if they were in their neighbourhood, Martin begged Masiko to accompany him.

Taking their guns, they made their way through the wood, the light from the moon enabling them to do so.

After pa.s.sing through the wood, they ascended a slight elevation, whence they could distinguish in the distance the light of several fires, while a murmur, proceeding from a large number of human voices, reached their ears. There could be no longer any doubt that they were close to the enemy's camp, and that the cry they had heard was that of some unfortunate captive being beaten, or perhaps put to death.

On this Martin and Masiko returned to their companions, resolved to set out by daybreak, and to try and reach the marauders' camp before the march was commenced. Martin was so occupied with the thoughts of what he had to do in the morning that it was long before he could go to sleep. On one thing he was resolved, that he would not allow Masiko to run the risk of being seized by the robbers or carried off with the rest of their captives. Masiko, though very unwilling to let him go alone, at length consented to remain with the rest in their place of concealment till Martin's return.

CHAPTER SIX.

Before daybreak Martin and Masiko set out, the latter insisting on accompanying him as far as he could venture without the risk of being discovered.

The sounds which proceeded from the camp showed that the people were already astir, and Martin leaving his gun with Masiko, who remained concealed behind a thick clump of trees, proceeded alone, taking only the slender staff round which his flag was rolled.

He kept himself, as he proceeded, as much as possible under shelter, as his object was to get as far as he could into the camp without being discovered. As the people were engaged in their various occupations-- some collecting cattle, others lighting fires to cook their food, while many had not yet even risen from the ground--he succeeded better than he had antic.i.p.ated. Seeing some huts before him, he guessed that they were occupied by the chief of the band and his attendants. Though a number of people began to press round him, he advanced boldly forward till he got in front of the largest of the huts, when, unfurling his flag, he stood quietly waiting to see what would happen. No one in the meantime attempted to interfere with him, while the countenances of the people exhibited astonishment rather than anger. He had not long to wait before the chief made his appearance at the door of one of the huts, evidently too much surprised at what he saw to utter a word. Martin, taking advantage of his silence, pointed to the flag and inquired if he knew to what nation it belonged. The chief made no reply.

"I must tell you then," said Martin. "It is that of a great people who have more power than all the tribes of Africa put together; yet powerful as they are, they wish to be friends with all people, and to do them good. You will understand, therefore, that I come to you as a friend, and as such I wish to talk to you, and to arrange a matter which has brought me here."

The chief, at length recovering a little from his surprise, put out his hand and told Martin that though he had never seen that flag before, nor did he know the nation of whom he spoke, he was welcome. "Probably," he added, "some of the people in the camp who have travelled to the sea may have heard of the great nation." Just then a man came forward and addressed the chief in a low tone. Martin did not hear what was said.

The chief seemed somewhat agitated, and at length inquired of Martin whether any of the big canoes of his countrymen were in the neighbourhood, and what force he had with him. Martin did not say that no English ships were likely to be in the interior of Africa, nor that probably he was the only Englishman within many hundred miles of him, but he replied cautiously that he had come on an emba.s.sy of peace, and that he could not suppose the chief would refuse him the simple request he had to make.

"My countrymen," he added, "are, as I have said, powerful, and lovers of peace, and yet when they are compelled to go to war they never reduce to slavery those they conquer, but wish them to be as free as they are themselves. Yet they know how to punish those who ill-treat the helpless."

"Your countrymen may be a great people, but they seem to have very different notions to mine," observed the chief. "As yet, however, I do not understand your object in paying me a visit."

"That is the point I am coming to," answered Martin in as firm a tone of voice as he could command. "You and your people have lately attacked a village in which were some of my friends, and have carried them off to sell as slaves. One of them is an especial friend of mine. He is also of my religion, and understands my language, and I cannot allow him to be carried away to live among strangers. As I told you, I came here on a peaceable errand, and all I demand is that you should set a price on my friend, and if you will allow him to accompany me I will send you the goods you demand."

The chief, on hearing this speech, looked greatly relieved, and after consulting with several of his headmen, asked Martin to point out the friend of whom he spoke.

Martin replied that he would, and was forthwith conducted to the part of the camp where the unfortunate slaves, who had by this time got ready to commence their march, were a.s.sembled. The men were generally chained in parties of six together, with heavy manacles on their hands; while the women were secured two and two with ropes round their waists, they having often to carry loads in addition to their children, who clung to their backs. The boys were manacled in the same way as the men; while the younger girls, though fastened together to prevent their running away, were allowed to travel without loads, not from any feeling of mercy on the part of their captives, but that they might appear to better advantage on their arrival at the slave-market. Some of the men who had apparently been refractory were secured by having their necks fixed in forks at the end of heavy poles, the fork being secured by iron pins bolted in at the broader end so as to prevent them from slipping out their necks. Two or three dozen of the stronger men were thus fastened together two and two, some having also chains round their wrists. A number of men--some armed with spears and swords, and others with muskets--stood ready to prevent the possibility of the captives escaping.

Martin hurried to the spot where the boys were collected, eagerly scanning the faces of the young captives. He had pa.s.sed by a number, among whom he in vain searched for Kibo. There was one more group a little further on, still sitting or lying down. The reason of this was at once apparent. One of the poor lads being unable to rise, his companions in misfortune were kicking and pinching him to make him get up, with the exception of one, who was endeavouring to protect him from their cruelty. In that one, though deprived of his English clothes and naked like the rest, Martin recognised his friend Kibo. He was so engaged in his generous efforts to protect the sufferer that he did not at first observe Martin approaching. Kibo, at length seeing Martin, uttering a cry of joy, endeavoured to spring forward, but his chain quickly checked him. The other lads on this ceased tormenting their companion, and gazed with astonishment at the stranger and his flag.

Martin, speaking in English, told Kibo why he had come to the camp, and advised him not to say who he was lest the chief should increase the amount he might demand for his ransom.

"There is my friend," he then said, turning to the headman who had accompanied him. "You see, as I told you, that he speaks my language, and you will now believe that everything else I have told you about him is true. Set him at once at liberty, and I will send the goods as soon as I return to the camp."

Greatly to his joy, Martin saw Kibo's manacles knocked off, and they stood together grasping each other's hands. Kibo, however, did not move from the spot, but casting his eyes towards the poor lad on the ground, he said, "Can you get him set free too? he is sick already, and will die if made to travel with the rest. I have been telling him about Jesus Christ, and he says how much he wishes to know Him better, and that he would come to this country and teach people to be happy. Oh, how grieved I should be if he were to die and not know more about Him!"

Martin at once pointed out the sick lad to the headmen, and told them that if they would knock off his chains and carry him to their chief, he would pay a ransom for him as well as for his friend. As the savages saw that this would be a clear gain, well knowing that the lad would die if compelled to march with the rest, they at once complied; and Martin grasping Kibo by the hand, followed by a couple of men carrying the poor lad, returned to the hut, in front of which the chief was seated smoking his pipe, and surrounded by several persons. One of these, though his skin was as brown as that of the rest, had European features, and was dressed in shirt and trousers, and Martin rightly conjectured that he was an agent of the slave-dealers on the coast, and had instigated the raid which had unhappily been so successfully carried out. Martin had brought a list of his remaining goods, and the chief appeared satisfied with those he offered in exchange for Kibo and the other lad. He was in hopes that the matter would quickly be settled, when the white man advised the chief to refuse the articles offered and to insist on having tusks instead. Martin had been too long accustomed to deal with the natives to yield at once, or to acknowledge that he had any tusks.

"I tell you truly that I offer you all my remaining goods," he answered.

"If you will send messengers to receive them, I promise to send them to you as soon as I can get back to my camp."

The chief, instigated by the slave-dealer, insisted on having tusks, finally agreeing, however, to receive twelve for Kibo and two for the poor sick lad, who, he remarked, was not likely to be of much use to any one. He would probably not have allowed his captives to go free until he had received the tusks, but when Martin promised on the faith of his flag to send them, even the slave-dealer advised him to consent, observing that Englishmen, though he hated them from his heart, always fulfilled their promises. Martin, thankful that his enterprise had thus far succeeded, set out with Kibo, accompanied by fourteen men, who were to go a part of the distance and there to wait till the arrival of the tusks. On consideration of receiving payment, they agreed to carry the poor lad whose freedom Martin had obtained. As they approached the spot where he had left his companions, he and Kibo hurried forward to give them warning. Their joy at seeing their chief's son was very great, and they declared that Martin ought to be made a chief himself. Martin, committing the two rescued lads to the charge of the Makololo, urged them to hasten on to Kanenge, while he followed with Masiko, as he was anxious to separate the hostile natives as soon as possible, fearing that either one or the other might be guilty of some act of treachery.

He advised those who had come from the camp to remain at the spot where he left them till his return. The men begged that he would leave his flag, as no one, they observed, would then venture to attack them, and it would be an additional proof that he intended to fulfil his promise.

This he gladly agreed to do. He then set out with Masiko, and travelled on with all speed, supported by the feeling that he had succeeded in his undertaking, and by his wish to fulfil his promise. For many miles the country was desolate, and no food was to be obtained. In the evening, however, they overtook their companions, who had sufficient for their wants. Kibo gave a good report of his friend Telo, who by his directions had been carried on a litter.

"I have promised that you, Martin, will take him with you to the missionary, who will instruct him in the religion of which I have been telling him. He says that as all his friends have been killed or carried off as slaves he will gladly go with you."

"But I must get you also to go with me, if your father will let you,"

said Martin. "You will then learn English, and obtain more knowledge of the Bible; and you may some day return to this country with a white missionary, to whom you may act as interpreter, and be able to instruct your people in the truths of the Gospel."

Kibo, who had not been attracted by the examples of savage life he had witnessed, gladly promised to try and obtain his father's leave to return with Martin. He did this more willingly as he found with regret that Kanenge was in no way disposed to listen to him when he tried to explain the Gospel, and he hoped that a missionary would be more successful. The discussion of their plans for the future occupied them during the remainder of their journey. Kanenge received his son with joy, and expressed his warmest grat.i.tude to Martin for bringing him back. Though he confessed that a very high price had been demanded for his liberation, he seemed rather flattered than otherwise by it, and insisted on replacing the tusks taken from Martin's store. He showed, however, that he was still the savage by observing that Martin had been over-generous in rescuing poor Telo, who was not worth the two tusks he had promised. Martin did not consider it necessary to argue the point, merely replying that he would give them from his own store.

As soon as he had rested, leaving Kibo with Kanenge to look after Telo, he and Masiko set out, attended by several men carrying the tusks he had promised as a ransom for the two young blacks. He also selected a number of articles to distribute among the party who had escorted him from the camp. He found them anxiously waiting his return, and in fear of being attacked on their march to overtake the rest of their party.

No sooner had they received the tusks and presents than they hurried off, and Martin and Masiko returned in safety to Kanenge's camp. In a short time Kanenge managed to obtain as many tusks as Martin had paid for his son's ransom, with several in addition, which he presented as a gift. Martin having thus, greatly to his satisfaction, rescued Kibo from slavery, was anxious to rejoin Mr Warden as soon as possible.

Still, eager as he was to set out, he determined not to go, if possible, without his friend. He had frequent conversations with Kibo on the subject.

Martin went to the chief, who again expressed his grat.i.tude to him for rescuing his son.

"Yes," said Martin, "I, it is true, redeemed him from slavery, but that was only the slavery which binds the body; you wish to bring back his soul into slavery, which is ten thousand times worse than that from which I saved him. If he remains with you, and follows your customs, he will be Satan's slave. Allow him to return with me, and in a few years I trust that he will come back and be able to show you and your people how you may be free indeed, and enjoy the blessings which my religion can alone give you. You acknowledge that I have been the means of rescuing him from your enemies; I have a right, therefore, to entreat that you will allow him to accompany me."

For a considerable time Kanenge did not speak. A great struggle was taking place within him. At length he answered--

"He shall go with you, my son. You have said what is true; only, remember your promise, that he is to return here to see me ere I die."

Martin again a.s.sured Kanenge that should G.o.d spare his life, Kibo would return with a white missionary to instruct him and his people, and then hastened away to communicate to his friend the joyful intelligence.

Preparations for their departure were now made, and the waggon being well loaded, Martin and his two young companions, with Masiko as conductor, set out on his journey southward across the desert. The Hottentot driver and four of his men survived, while several of the Makololo gladly undertook to fill the places of the others and to form the necessary escort. Kanenge accompanied them for a couple of days on their journey, urging Martin to come back with Kibo, and promising to give him a warm reception.

The journey across the desert was performed without an accident. Martin had no intention of following the life of a trader, having far higher aims in view. He without difficulty disposed of his waggon and its valuable cargo, and with Mr Warden's a.s.sistance, invested the proceeds, which were sufficient not only to supply his very moderate wants for the present but for the future. He at once began diligently to prepare himself for the important duties of a missionary, Kibo and Telo following his example. The three young men were in the course of a few years fitted to go forth on their destined work, and were the means of bringing many in that long-benighted region out of Nature's darkness into the glorious light of the Gospel.

The End.