The expedition of Captain Glen and Dr. Clary certainly was not organized to seek Stasch and Nell. It was a large and well-equipped government expedition, sent out to explore the northeast slopes of the giant mountain Kilima-Njaro, and also the but little known large tracts to the north of this mountain. It is true that the Captain and the Doctor knew about the kidnapping of the children from Medinet el-Fayoum, for English and Arabic newspapers had published accounts of it, but they thought that both had died or else were languishing as prisoners of the Mahdi, from whom not a single European captive had regained his freedom. Clary, whose sister was married to Rawlison of Bombay, and who on his trip to Cairo had been quite taken with little Nell, missed her very much. But they were also very sorry for the brave boy. They had sent several telegrams from Mombasa to Mr. Rawlison asking whether the children had been found, and only after the last unfavorable answer, which arrived some time before the departure of the caravan, did they finally give up every hope of finding them.

It never even occurred to them that the children, who were kidnapped in distant Khartum, might turn up in this district. But in the evenings, after the day’s work was over, they often conversed about them, for the doctor could not forget the beautiful little girl.

Meanwhile the caravan advanced still farther. After staying quite some time on the eastern slopes of Kilima-Njaro and exploring the upper course of the rivers Sabaki and Tana, as well as the Kenia Mountains, the captain and the doctor turned off northward, and after having crossed the swampy Guasso-Nyjro, came into a wide, uninhabited plain, over which roamed only innumerable herds of antelope. After a journey of more than three months, the people needed a longer rest, and so Captain Glen, after having come to a fairly large lake containing plenty of brown but healthy water, ordered the tents to be erected on its banks for a ten days’ halt.

During the preparations for camping the white people busied themselves with hunting and sorting their geographical and natural science notes, and the negroes fell into their well-beloved idleness. It happened one day that Dr. Clary, rising early, and approaching the shore, saw several Zanzibar negroes belonging to the caravan with their faces upturned looking at the top of a tall tree and repeating over and over again:

“Ndege? Akuna ndege! Ndege?”—“A bird? No bird! A bird?”

The doctor was shortsighted, so he sent to the tent for a telescope; then he looked through it at the object to which the negroes pointed, and great surprise showed on his face:

“Call the captain here!” he said.

Before the negroes had reached him the captain appeared outside the tent; he was about to start on an antelope hunt.

“Glen, look!” cried the doctor, pointing upward.

The captain raised his head, covered his eyes with his hands, and showed as much surprise as did the doctor.

“A kite!” he cried.

“Yes; but negroes don’t send up kites! Where can it come from?”

“There may be a settlement of white people or a mission in the neighborhood——”

“This is the third day the wind has blown from the west, over a region as unknown and perhaps as uninhabited as is this jungle. Besides, you know that there are no settlements or missions hereabouts.”

“Indeed, it is very strange and interesting.”

“We must certainty take down the kite.”

“Yes. Perhaps then we shall find out where it came from.”

The captain gave a short order. The tree was several feet high, but in a moment the negroes had reached the top, carefully unfastened the kite, taken it down, and handed it to the doctor, who examined it quickly and said:

“There’s writing on it—let us look!”

And in order to see better he half closed his eyes and began to read:

Suddenly his face changed and his hand trembled.

“Glen,” he said, “take that; read it through, and convince me that I have not had a sun-stroke, and that I am still in my right senses!”

The captain took the bamboo frame to which the sheet of paper was attached and read the following:

And on the other side of the sheet was found the following postscript:

When the captain’s voice had ceased the two friends silently regarded each other.

“What does it mean?” at last asked Dr. Clary.

“I can’t believe my eyes!” answered the captain.

“But is there no mistake?”

“No.”

“There it is, plainly written: ‘Nell Rawlison and Stanislaus Tarkowski.’ ”

“There it is as plain as can be——”

“And perhaps they may be in this vicinity?”

“So God has apparently saved them.”

“All thanks be to Him!” cried the doctor enthusiastically.

“But in what direction shall we look for them?”

“Is there nothing more on the kite?”

“There were several other words, but on a part torn by the branches; it is hard to read them.”

Both leaned their heads over the paper, and only after a lengthy examination were they able to spell:

“The rainy season has long since passed.”

“What does that mean?” asked the doctor.

“That the boy has lost his reckoning of time.”

“And in this way he tried to give the date as best he could.”

“You are right. So this kite can not have been sent up such a very long while ago.”

“If that is the case, then they can not be very far off by this time.”

This feverish, abrupt conversation lasted a little longer; then they both began to inspect the document again and to consider every word written on it. But it all seemed so improbable, that had it not come from a place where not even one European could be found—more than six hundred kilometers distant from the nearest coast—the doctor and the captain would have been inclined to think it a joke played by European or mission children after having read in the newspapers about the kidnapping. Still it was hard for them not to believe their eyes; for they had the kite in their hands, and the inscription, being scarcely blurred at all, was quite distinct.

Notwithstanding, there were many things about it that they could not understand. Where could the children have procured the paper for the kites? If they had obtained it from a caravan, they would have joined the caravan, and so would not have been obliged to ask for assistance. Why had the boy not tried to escape to Abyssinia with his little companion? Why had the Dervishes sent them to the east of the Nile in an unknown country? How had they been able to escape from the Dervishes? Where were they hiding? By what miracle had they not starved to death during this journey of many months? By what miracle had they not become the prey of wild beasts? Why had the savages not killed them? To all these questions they could find no answers.

“I can’t understand it. I can’t understand it!” repeated Dr. Clary. “It surely is a miracle of God’s working.”

“It would seem so!” answered the captain.

Then he added:

“But there’s a fine boy for you! This must be his work!”

“And he did not leave the little one in the lurch. God bless his head and his heart.”

“Stanley—yes, even Stanley—placed as he was, could not have kept up over three days.”

“And they are still alive!”

“But they beg for help. What’s past is past. We must depart immediately.”

And so they set out. On the way the two friends continually re-examined the document, trusting that they might find directions on it to guide them in going to the children’s assistance. But no such directions were found. The captain led the caravan in a zigzag path, hoping he might find some trace of them—the remains of some campfire or a tree with marks cut into the bark. In this way they traveled on for several days, when unfortunately they found themselves on a treeless plain, covered with tall heather and tufts of dried grass. The two travelers were now very much alarmed. How easy, they thought, was it to miss even a large caravan on these vast prairies and how much easier it was to miss two children, who, as they supposed, were creeping along somewhere in the tall heather like two little worms. Another day passed. Neither the tin cans with notes inside them which they left behind them tied to bushes, nor the watch-fires burning during the night were of any avail. The captain and the doctor from time to time began to lose hope of ever finding the children; indeed, they felt quite sure they were no longer alive. Nevertheless, they continued searching diligently for several days. At last the scouts whom Glen sent out to reconnoiter brought news that in front of them lay an absolutely arid desert; so when they accidentally came across water in a hollow of the ground they were obliged to halt to make provision for the coming journey.

The hollow was several feet deep and very narrow. At its bottom a hot spring bubbled and boiled, for it was saturated with carbonic gas. The water when cooled proved to be good and wholesome. There was so much water in the spring that thirty men of their caravan were unable to empty it. On the contrary, the more water they dipped out the higher it spurted forth.

“Perhaps in time,” said Dr. Clary, “invalids will come here to be cured by this water, but at present the steep side of the cliff renders it inaccessible even to animals. Can it be possible that the children have found a similar spring?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps there are more like these in this part of the country. If not, the children will surely die of thirst.”

The night approached. They lighted several fires, but no boma was erected, for they could find no materials with which to build it.

After supper the doctor and the captain sat down on camp-stools, lighted their pipes, and began to converse on the subject that weighed most heavily on their hearts.

“Not the least trace!” Clary began.

“It had occurred to me,” answered Glen, “to send ten of our people to the coast with a telegram, stating that news from the children had been received. But I am glad that I did not send it, for the messengers would most likely have given out on the way, and even if they had reached their destination, what good would it do to raise false hopes——”

“And increase their grief——”

The doctor removed his white helmet and wiped his perspiring forehead. “Listen,” said he. “Suppose we were to return to that lake, and have niches cut in the bark of the trees and large fires burning by night! Perhaps the children would see these signs.”

“If they are in the neighborhood we would not need to take these means to find them, and if they are far away the rise in the ground would hide the fires. This plateau only appears to be level; in reality it is covered with ridges and waves like the ocean. Besides, if we were to retrace our steps we would lose all hope of finding a vestige of them.”

“Speak plainly. You have lost all hope?”

“My friend, we are grown, strong, experienced men; just imagine what would have become of us if we had been stranded here by ourselves, even if supplied with water, had we no provisions or men!”

“Yes, unfortunately—yes, I can picture to myself two children traveling through the desert on a night like this——”

“Hunger, thirst, and wild animals——”

“And yet the boy writes that they have dragged through long months in this way.”

“I can not possibly imagine it.”

For a long time all that disturbed the silence of the night was the crackling of the tobacco in their pipes. The doctor stared into the pale depth of the night, and then in a suppressed voice said:

“It is now late; but I can not sleep. And to think that, if they are still alive, perhaps they are wandering around here somewhere in the moonlight between these dried tufts of heather—alone—such young children! Glen, do you remember the angel face of the little one?”

“I remember it perfectly, and shall not forget it.”

“Ah, I would gladly have my hand cut off if——”

He did not finish the sentence, for Captain Glen jumped up as suddenly as if scalding water had been poured over him.

“A rocket in the distance!” he cried. “A rocket!”

“A rocket!” repeated the doctor.

“There must be a caravan ahead of us.”

“Perhaps it has come across the children!”

“Perhaps. Let us make haste to meet them.”

“Forward!”

The captain’s orders were at once heard throughout the camp. The Zanzibar negroes sprang to their feet. Torches were lighted, and in answer to the distant signals Glen ordered rockets sent up in rapid succession and shots to be fired.

In less than a quarter of an hour the entire camp was on its way.

From a distance were heard shots responding to theirs. There was no longer any doubt but that some European caravan was for some unknown reason asking for help.

The captain and the doctor ran as fast as they possibly could, alternately hoping and fearing. Would they find the children or not? The doctor said to himself that if they did not find them they could at least search for their bodies in the dreadful heather-fields.

Half an hour later one of those ridges of which they had spoken shut off the view from the two friends. But they were now so near that they distinctly heard the tramping of horses. A few minutes more and a rider appeared on the top of a hillock; he held a large white object in front of him on the saddle.

“Hold the torches high!” commanded Glen.

At the same moment the rider brought his horse to a standstill within the circle of lights.

“Water! Water!”

“The children!” cried Dr. Clary.

“Water!” repeated Stasch.

And he almost threw Nell into the arms of the captain and then he sprang out of the saddle. The next moment he staggered to the ground as if lifeless.

The rejoicing of the rescuers was boundless, but the credulity of the two Englishmen was put to a severe test, as they had been unable to comprehend how the children by themselves had been able to travel over the measureless tracts of land and the deserts which separated their present position from the Nile and Fashoda; neither could they conjecture how “the young Pole,” as they called Stasch, could have done it, and how it was that he appeared before them as the leader of a large caravan—armed with European weapons—with an elephant who carried a palanquin, with horses, tents, and a considerable amount of provisions. At this astounding sight the captain stretched out his hands, saying over and over again: “Clary, I have seen a great deal in my life, but never a boy like this,” and the good doctor, equally astonished, said:

“And he released the little one from captivity—and saved her!” After having made this remark, he ran to the tents to see how the children were and if they were sleeping comfortably.

After they had had food and drink, the children were undressed and put to bed, and slept during the whole of the following day as soundly as if they were dead, and so did the men belonging to their caravan. Captain Glen attempted to question Kali about their adventures and about Stasch’s part in them, but the young negro merely opened one eye and answered: “The Great Man can do everything,” and went to sleep again. So they were obliged to put off their questions until the following day.

Meanwhile the two friends consulted with each other as to the journey back to Mombasa. They had already traveled farther and explored larger tracts than their commission called for, and so they decided to return at once. The unknown lake had a great fascination for the captain, but the welfare of the children and the desire to take them back to their grief-stricken fathers as soon as possible turned the scales. The doctor insisted that at present they should take a good rest on the cool summits of the Kenia or Kilima-Njaro Mountains. They also decided not to send word to the children’s fathers until they reached the mountains, and then tell them to come to Mombasa.

On the third day, after they were well rested and had bathed several times, they started on their return journey. Now they were obliged to part from Kali. Stasch convinced the little one that it would be selfish for her to take him with them to the ocean, or even as far as Egypt, for even in England Kali would be nothing more than a servant, while if he were to rule over his people he could, as king, spread the Christian religion and ameliorate the savage customs of the Wa-himas, and not only civilize them, but make them good. He also expressed similar sentiments to Kali. Many tears were shed at parting. Stasch was not ashamed to weep, for had not he and Nell been through much happiness and misery in common with Kali? And not only had they both learned to appreciate his kind heart, but they had also grown very fond of him. The young negro lay a long time at the feet of his Bwana Kubwa and of the “good Msimu.” He turned back twice to look at them, but at last the moment of parting had come, and the two caravans separated, going in opposite directions.

It was only after they were under way that the adventures of the two little travelers were told. Stasch, who used to be so fond of boasting, did not sound his own praises at all now, for he had accomplished so many things and gone through so much that he had developed sufficiently to recognize that facts speak louder than words—that deeds alone, even when told as modestly as possible, speak for themselves. Daily, during the hot “white hours,” and evenings in the bivouac, the events and adventures which the children had suffered passed before the eyes of the captain and the doctor like moving pictures. In this way they saw them carried off from Medinet-el-Fayoum, and the terrible journey on camels through the desert—Khartum and Omdurman, which was a hell on earth—and the designing Mahdi. When Stasch told how he had replied to the Mahdi when the latter wanted him to change his religion, the two friends arose and each of them in turn grasped Stasch’s right hand firmly. Then the captain said:

“The Mahdi is not living now!”

“The Mahdi not living now!” repeated Stasch, surprised.

“That’s true,” the doctor continued. “He was suffocated in his own fat, or, properly speaking, he died of fatty degeneration of the heart, and Abdullah^[49] has taken command.”

A long pause ensued.

“Ha!” said Stasch. “When he sent us to meet our death in Fashoda he had no idea that death would overtake him first.”

And after a while he added:

“But Abdullah is even more cruel than the Mahdi.”

“And that has led to the present revolts and slaughter,” answered the captain, “and the whole structure of government which the Mahdi erected is bound to fall sooner or later.”

“And what will happen then?”

“England,” answered the captain.

During the rest of the journey Stasch told them about the trip to Fashoda, about the death of old Dinah, their departure from Fashoda, their journey to uninhabited districts, and their search for Smain. When he came to the part where he had killed the lion and then Gebhr and Chamis and the two Bedouins, the captain interrupted him, exclaiming, “All right!” and once more grasping his right hand. He and Clary continued to listen with increasing interest about the taming of King, their dwelling in “Cracow,” Nell’s fever, the finding of Linde, and the kites, which the children sent up from the Karamajo Mountains. The doctor, who grew fonder of little Nell day by day, was so especially interested in all that had threatened to harm her that from time to time he had to strengthen himself with a drop of brandy, and when Stasch began to relate how she had nearly become the prey of the terrible wobo he took the little girl in his arms, and would not let her go for some time, as if afraid that some new beast of prey might threaten her life.

What he and the captain thought of Stasch was expressed in two telegrams which they sent off two weeks later (after they had reached the foot of Kilima-Njaro) by messengers, who had orders to forward as soon as possible to the two fathers.

The first telegram was carefully worded and sent to Port Said. It was as follows:

“Thanks to the boy, have good news of the children. Come to Mombasa.”