alert. The curious phenomenon of a
smoke in the forest daring the rainy season must be explained. What
could it be?

He began to glide from tree to tree, from clump to clump; now crouching
behind a wart-hog's mound, that that beast had raised above its burrow,
then wriggling along the grass like a snake, and presently leaping up
with the activity of a leopard, until he drew nearer to the smoke, so
near that he heard voices.

"Voices!" The very fact of a human voice being heard in the forest,
except his own, had something portentous in it; for had not all voices
lately been those of enemies? He was ten times more cautious now; and
something like a half-regret for venturing hither came into his mind.
Why had he come so far at all? Why had he not listened to his brother
Selim and his friends, who begged him not to go out?

He watched from behind the tree, and saw people; men wearing cloth round
their heads, long cloth clothes leading down to their feet, like those
(he heard from Selim often) the Arabs used at Zanzibar. He listened;
and while trying to distinguish the language heard words such as Selim,
Abdullah, Simba, Moto, and Niani used. The language was not of the
interior of Africa around Ututa, nor Uzivila, nor Uwemba, surely; and
these people going about the camp in white cloths and long white clothes
were not natives. He had never heard of any natives wearing such
clothes. They must be Arabs! Did not Moto tell him that they were on
the Unyanyembe road, and that they might meet an Arab caravan going to
Fipa, or catch up an Arab caravan going to Unyanyembe from Fipa. Of
course these were Arabs; people of Simba, and people of Selim, Moto,
Abdullah, and Niani! They were his friends, since he was a brother of
Selim!

What should he do? Should he go back at once and gladden the hearts of
his friends with the good news? Ah! the suggestion came near being
acted upon; but it was not, for immediately it was replaced by another,
"Why not go to them, make thyself known, and they will be good to thee
for Selim's sake?"

Poor boy! Innocent youth! He judged all Arabs to be good, like Selim
and Abdullah, and he stepped out of his hiding-place and walked
deliberately to the camp. He was soon seen, addressed, and invited to
come up to them.

"Hi, Ndgu! njo." ("Hello, my brother! come here.")

This was a fair beginning, to call him "my brother," the English reader
will think. Not at all; it is an ordinary