It was not until toward noon the following day that Stasch started out to revisit Linde, because he had to make up for the sleep he had lost the night before.

Thinking that the sick man might need some fresh meat, he killed two birds on the way, which were much appreciated. Linde was very weak, but perfectly rational. As soon as they had exchanged greetings he inquired how Nell was; then he told Stasch that he did not think quinine alone would cure the fever, and said that he must guard the little one against the sun’s rays, dampness, spending the night in low, damp places, and finally against bad water. Then, as requested, Stasch narrated his own and Nell’s adventures from the beginning as far as their arrival in Khartum and their visit to the Mahdi, and from Fashoda to their escape from Gebhr’s hands, and also their later wanderings. During this story the Swiss looked at him with growing curiosity, and often even with evident admiration, and as the tale approached its end he lighted his pipe, looked at Stasch once more from head to foot, and, apparently lost in thought, said:

“If there are many boys like you in your country, it will be hard to conquer you.”

And after a short silence he continued:

“The best proof of the truth of your words is the fact that you are standing here before me. And what I want to say to you is this, that you are in a terrible predicament; the route, no matter which direction you take, is beset with dangers, but who knows whether such a brave boy as you can not safely lead both himself and that child out of this great wilderness!”

“If Nell would only get well again I will do everything in my power,” cried Stasch.

“But you must take care of yourself, too, for the work that lies before you would tax the strength of a full-grown man. Have you ever thought where you are?”

“No; I only remember that after leaving Fashoda we passed a river—near a large settlement called Deng.”

“The river Sobat!” interrupted Linde.

“At Deng there were many Dervishes and negroes. But on the other side of the Sobat we entered into a region of jungle, and marched for weeks until we arrived at the gorge, in which you know what took place——”

“I know. You then went on through the gorge till you came to that stream. Well, now listen; it is obvious that after passing over the Sobat with the Sudanese you turned off to the southeast, or a little more toward the south. The country you now happen to be in is unknown to explorers and geographers. This river near us runs northwest, and probably empties into the Nile. I say probably, for I am not quite sure myself, although I turned off from the mountains of Karamajo to discover its source. After the fight the captured Dervishes told me that it was called Ogeloguer, but even they were not sure, for they only go into this district to hunt slaves. This land was for the most part sparsely inhabited by the Schilluks; but now the country is devoid of human beings, for some of the people have died of smallpox, others have been killed by the Dervishes, and still others have fled into the mountains of Karamajo. It often happens in Africa that a stretch of land thickly populated to-day becomes a wilderness to-morrow. I calculate that you are about 300 kilometers distant from Lado. In fact, you might take refuge with Ermin in Sudan, but as it is quite likely that Ermin himself is besieged by the Dervishes, that course is out of the question.”

“How about going to Abyssinia?” asked Stasch.

“It is also nearly 300 kilometers distant. Besides that, one must reckon that the Mahdi is now at war with the whole world, consequently with Abyssinia. Besides, I have heard from the prisoners that bands of Dervishes are wandering in the western and southern districts, and you might easily fall into their hands. Abyssinia is certainly a Christian land, but the savage races to the south are either heathens or believers in Islam, and for that reason they secretly sympathize with the Mahdi. No; you can not go through that country.”

“Then what shall I do, and where shall I go with Nell?” asked Stasch.

“I told you that you are in a difficult position,” murmured Linde; then he covered his head with his hands and remained silent a while.

“From here to the ocean,” he at last said, “would be more than 900 kilometers, through mountain regions, wild tribes, and even desert places, for on the way there are supposed to be large tracts of arid land. But nominally the country belongs to England. One might strike caravans of ivory on their way to Kismaya-Lam and Mombasa, perhaps even meet missionary expeditions. When I saw that, owing to the Dervishes, I could not escape the course of this river, as it turns off toward the Nile, I made up my mind to go east toward the ocean.”

“Then we will return together!” cried Stasch.

“I shall never return. The Ndiri beast tore my sinews and veins so terribly that blood poisoning must certainly set in. Only a surgeon could save me by amputating my leg. Now it has dried up and stiffened, but on the first day the pain was so great that I bit into my hands and——”

“You will certainly get well.”

“No, my brave boy, I shall surely die, and you must cover me well with stones, so that the hyenas can not dig me up. This is perhaps of little consequence to the dead, but while alive it is not a pleasant thought. It is hard to have to die so far away from one’s family.”

At these words his eyes became veiled, and after a while he continued:

“But I have become accustomed to the thought, so let us now talk about you, not about me. I will give you one piece of advice: There is only one road for you to take, which is to the east toward the ocean. But before attempting this journey you should rest well and gather strength; otherwise your little companion will die in a few weeks. Postpone the journey until the rainy season is over and perhaps even longer. The first months of summer, when it has ceased raining, and the water still covers the swamps, are the most healthful. This place, where we now are, is an elevated plateau lying nearly seven hundred feet above the level of the sea. In high regions of one thousand three hundred feet there is no fever, and if by chance it be carried there from places of lower altitude, it assumes a much milder form. Take the little English girl and go into the mountains with her.”

Talking evidently tired him very much, and so he paused once more, and for a time fought off large blue flies—the same kind that Stasch had seen in Fashoda.

Then he resumed:

“Pay strict attention to what I am going to tell you. One day’s journey toward the south you will see an isolated mountain, not more than eight hundred feet high. It looks like an overturned saucepan; its sides are very steep. The only way to reach it is by a mountain pass so narrow that in some places two horses can barely walk abreast. On its flat summit, about a kilometer broad, there used to be a small negro village, but the Mahdists have killed some of the inhabitants and have taken others away with them. It may be that this was done by the very Smain I conquered, but whose slaves I could not capture because he had already sent them under heavy guard toward the Nile. Up there on the top is a spring of excellent water, several fields of manioc and a quantity of banana-trees. You will also find there many human bones, but you need not fear that these corpses will produce a plague, for after the Dervishes left the ants drove us away from the plain. Other than these, not a human soul! Remain one or two months in that village. At that height there is no fever. The nights are cool. There your little one will regain her health and you your strength.”

“And then what shall I do, and where shall I go?”

“Leave the rest to the guidance of God. By all means try to go toward the places in Abyssinia which are furthest away from the Dervishes, but go toward the east. I have heard that the Arabians, hunting for ivory, which they get from the Samburu and Wa-hima tribes, advance as far as a certain lake.”

Now Stasch began to tell Linde how he had obtained Kali (Gebhr’s servant) after Gebhr’s death, and also that the young negro had said that he was the son of the chief of the Wa-himas.

But Linde was much more indifferent to this news than Stasch had expected.

“All the better,” he said, “for he can be of use to you. Among the blacks there are kind souls, although on the whole one can not depend on their gratitude, because they are but children still, and forget to-day what happened yesterday.”

“Kali will not forget that I saved him from Gebhr—I’m sure of that.”

“Possibly,” said Linde, and pointing to Nasibu, he added:

“He is also a good child. Take care of him after my death.”

“Don’t always think of death, and don’t talk of it.”

“My dear,” answered the Swiss, “I long for it—all I hope is that it will take place without further suffering. Just think, I am now quite helpless, and if one of the Mahdists whose band I dispersed should accidentally wander through this narrow pass, he could slaughter me like a lamb single-handed.”

He pointed to the sleeping negroes, and resumed:

“These will never wake, or, more correctly, each one will wake once again shortly before his death, and will run madly through the jungle, from which he will never return. Out of two hundred people there were only sixty left me. Many ran away, died of smallpox, or lay down to die in other gorges.”

Stasch gazed at the negroes, his heart full of horror and pity. Their bodies were of an ashy gray, which in the negro signifies pallor. The eyes of some were tightly closed, of others half open, but even these were sleeping soundly, for the pupils of their eyes were not sensitive to the light. The knee-joints of some were swollen. All were so terribly emaciated that their ribs could be seen through their skin. Their hands and feet shook incessantly and rapidly. Blue flies had settled in thick masses on their eyes and lips.

“Is there no help for them?” asked Stasch.

“No. In the district of the Victoria-Nyanza this illness kills the inhabitants of entire villages. Sometimes it is worse than at others. The inhabitants of the villages lying in the woods near its banks are most frequently attacked.”

The sun was already in the west, but before evening Linde had told Stasch of his adventures. He said he was the son of a merchant in ZÜrich, that his family had come from Karlsruhe, and that in the year 1848 they had settled in Switzerland. His father had made a great fortune as a silk merchant. He had his son trained as an engineer, but young Henry from his earliest youth was beset with the idea of traveling. When he graduated from the Polytechnic School he inherited the entire fortune of his father, and then started on his first journey to Egypt. This took place before the time of the Mahdi, and so he got as far as Khartum, and hunted in the Sudan with the Dongalese. He then devoted himself to studying the geography of Africa, in which he so excelled that he belonged to many geographical societies. This last journey, which was to terminate so badly for him, had been undertaken from Zanzibar. He had got as far as the great lakes and intended to advance along the unexplored mountains of Karamajo as far as Abyssinia, and from there to the borders of the sea. But the people of Zanzibar would not accompany him any further. Fortunately, or unfortunately, war was at that time raging between the kings of Uganda and Unyoro. Linde materially assisted the king of Uganda, and the latter as a reward gave him more than two hundred black Agisis. That naturally greatly facilitated the journey and the visit to the Karamajo Mountains, but just then the smallpox broke out among the people, followed by the terrible sleeping-sickness, and at last the caravan was demoralized and destroyed.

Linde had with him quantities of provisions, consisting of all kinds of canned goods, but as he dreaded the scurvy, he hunted daily for fresh meat. He was a splendid shot, but not a very cautious hunter.

And so it happened that a few days before, when he had foolishly approached too near a wounded Ndiri wild boar, the animal sprang up, tore his leg terribly, and wounded him in the back. This happened quite near this camp, and in full view of Nasibu, who tore up his own shirt and made a bandage of it to stop the flow of blood, and brought the wounded man back to the tent. But as the result of internal bleeding, clumps of coagulated blood formed, and the patient was threatened with gangrene.

Stasch insisted on bandaging him, and declared that either he would come to see him every day, or—so as not to leave Nell alone in the care of the two negroes—put him on a felt rug stretched out between two horses and bring him to “Cracow.” Linde was willing to let Stasch make a new bandage for him, but he would on no account listen to the thought of being removed.

“I know,” he said, pointing to his negroes, “that these people must die, but as long as death has not yet come to them I can not condemn them while alive to be torn to pieces by the hyenas, who are only kept at a distance during the night by the campfire.”

And he at once began to repeat feverishly:

“I can not, I can not, I can not!”

However, he soon regained his composure, and continued in a peculiarly sad, ringing voice:

“Come here to-morrow early. I have a great favor to ask of you, and if you grant it, God will perhaps lead you both out of this African hell, and I will die contented. I wanted to postpone this request until to-morrow, but as I may be unconscious to-morrow, I will tell you to-day. Pour water into a vessel, go up to each of these poor sleeping creatures, sprinkle water on his head, and say: ‘I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.’ ”

This he said with a voice full of emotion, and then became silent.

“I blame myself,” he said after a while, “that I did not take leave in the same way of those who died of the smallpox and of those who died even earlier. But now I am threatened with death—and would like to—that is, with the remainder of my caravan, go on this last great journey with them.”

At these words he pointed with his hand to the flaming sky, and two large tears trickled slowly down his cheeks.

Stasch wept like a child.