until the tale of
our thirty was complete. At this rate progress was very slow, and as the
fierce equatorial sun increased in strength, became always slower still.
The situation became alarming. We were quite out of water, and we had no
idea where water was to be found. To complicate matters, the thornbrush
thickened to a jungle.

My single companion and I consulted. It was agreed that I was to push on
as rapidly as possible to locate the water, while he was to try to hold
the caravan together. Accordingly, Memba Sasa and I marched ahead. We
tried to leave a trail to follow; and we hoped fervently that our guess
as to the stream's course would prove to be a good one. At the end
of two hours and a half we found the water-a beautiful jungle-shaded
stream-and filled ourselves up therewith. Our duty was accomplished, for
we had left a trail to be followed. Nevertheless, I felt I should like
to take back our full canteens to relieve the worst cases. Memba Sasa
would not hear of it, and even while I was talking to him seized the
canteens and disappeared.

At the end of two hours more camp was made, after a fashion; but still
four men had failed to come in. We built a smudge in the hope of guiding
them; and gave them up. If they had followed our trail, they should have
been in long ago; if they had missed that trail, heaven knows where they
were, or where we should go to find them. Dusk was falling, and, to tell
the truth, we were both very much done up by a long day at 115 degrees
in the shade under an equatorial sun. The missing men would climb trees
away from the beasts, and we would organize a search next day. As we
debated these things, to us came Memba Sasa.

"I want to take 'Winchi,'" said he. "Winchi" is his name for my
Winchester 405.

"Why?" we asked.

"If I can take Winchi, I will find the men," said he.

This was entirely voluntary on his part. He, as well as we, had had a
hard day, and he had made a double journey for part of it. We gave him
Winchi and he departed. Sometime after midnight he returned with the
missing men.

Perhaps a dozen times all told he volunteered for these special
services; once in particular, after a fourteen-hour day, he set off
at nine o'clock at night in a soaking rainstorm, wandered until two
o'clock, and returned unsuccessful, to rouse me and report gravely
that he could not find them. For these services he neither received nor
expected special reward. And catch him doing anyt