hants' tusks."

Sayd's exclamations of surprise somewhat interrupted Ned's remarks as he
translated them to Chando. The latter almost let his load drop in his
agitation as he asked, "Is Baraka--is my father still alive? O my young
master, can you take me to him? Can you find my mother, that we may be
together and be once more happy as we were before he was carried away to
become a slave?"

"The very thing I wish to do," answered Ned. "I will try to get your
master to give you your freedom at once; or, if he will not now do so,
as soon as we return to the coast."

So deeply interested were Ned and his companions in the discovery he had
made, that they forgot for a time their fatigue and their thirst. Even
Sambroko and young Hassan listened eagerly.

"I know where Kamwawi is!" exclaimed the huge black. "It is to the
north-west, but it would take many days to reach. It is a fine country,
and the people are brave and warlike; though the slave hunters sometimes
go there to trap the natives, they seldom venture to attack the
villages."

"It is true, it is true!" answered Chando. "I was captured whilst out
hunting elephants with some other lads. They all died--I alone lived;
and after being sold several times became the slave of Abdullah. It was
better than being sent away on board a dhow to be carried to some far
off land, where I might have been ill-treated by strangers, and have no
chance of meeting with any of my own people."

"We must try to reach Kamwawi, and endeavour to ascertain whether
Chando's mother is still alive. I promised her husband to bring her
back as well as her son if I could find them. It would be a glorious
thing to rescue both," exclaimed Ned.

"To do that would be impossible," answered Sayd. "Abdullah will not
lead the caravan so far away for such an object. Even should we reach
the village you speak of, we should be looked upon as enemies, besides
which, the woman is by this time dead, or is married to another husband,
and she would not wish to quit her home to go to a distant country for
the mere chance of finding her husband alive. You must give up the
idea, my friend; the undertaking, I repeat, is impossible."

Ned made no reply, there was too much truth, he feared, in Sayd's
remarks. For some time he tramped on, thinking over the matter. At
last he again turned to the Arab--

"Sayd," he exclaimed, "I want you to do me a favour--to obtain Chando's
liberty. If you have t