onth had passed since he had left Old Calabar, and owing to the
incessant rains the journeying had been hard. Indeed the white men there
thought that he was mad to attempt to go up the river at this season.
Of course he had said nothing to them of the objects of his expedition,
hinting only that he wished to explore and shoot, and perhaps prospect
for mines. But knowing as they did, that he was an Engineer officer with
a good record and much African experience, they soon made up their minds
that he had been sent by Government upon some secret mission that for
reasons of his own he preferred to keep to himself. This conclusion,
which Jeekie zealously fostered behind his back, in fact did Alan a good
turn, since owing to it he obtained boatmen and servants at a season
when, had he been supposed to be but a private person, these would
scarcely have been forthcoming at any price. Hitherto his journey had
been one long record of mud, mosquitoes, and misery, but otherwise
devoid of incident, except the eating of one of his boatmen by a
crocodile which was a particularly "early riser," for it had pulled
the poor fellow out of the canoe in which he lay asleep at night. Now,
however, the real dangers were about to begin, since at this spot he
left the great river and started forward through the forest on foot with
Jeekie and the four bearers whom he had paid highly to accompany him.

He could not conceal from himself that the undertaking seemed somewhat
desperate. But of this he said nothing in the long letter he had written
to Barbara on the previous night, sighing as he sealed it, at the
thought that it might well be the last which would ever reach her from
him, even if the boatmen got safely back to Calabar and remembered to
put it in the post. The enterprise had been begun and must be carried
through, until it ended in success--or death.

An hour later they started. First walked Alan as leader of the
expedition, carrying a double-barrelled gun that could be used either
for ball or shot, about fifty cartridges with brass cases to protect
them from the damp, a revolver, a hunting-knife, a cloth mackintosh, and
lastly, strapped upon his back like a knapsack, a tin box containing
the fetish, Little Bonsa, which was too precious to be trusted to anyone
else. It was quite a sufficient load for any white man in that climate,
but being very wiry, Alan did not feel its weight, at any rate at first.

After him in single file came the