ppeared to greet them on the banks of
the river as they went along, and these few resembled living skeletons.
In many places they found dead bodies lying on the ground in various
stages of decomposition, and everywhere they beheld an aspect of settled
unutterable despair on the faces of the scattered remnant of the
bereaved and starving people.

It was impossible, in the circumstances, for Harold Seadrift to give
these wretched people more than very slight relief. He gave them as
much of his stock of provisions as he could spare, and was glad when the
necessity of continuing the journey on foot relieved him from such
mournful scenes by taking him away from the river's bank.

Hiring a party of the strongest men that he could find among them, he at
length left his canoes, made up his goods, food, and camp-equipage into
bundles of a shape and size suitable to being carried on the heads of
men, and started on foot for the Manganja highlands.

"Seems to me, sir," observed Disco, as they plodded along together on
the first morning of the land journey--"seems to me, sir, that Chimbolo
don't stand much chance of findin' his wife alive."

"Poor fellow," replied Harold, glancing back at the object of their
remarks, "I fear not."

Chimbolo had by that time recovered much of his natural vigour, and
although not yet able to carry a man's load, was nevertheless quite
capable of following the party. He walked in silence, with his eyes on
the ground, a few paces behind Antonio, who was a step or two in rear of
his leader, and who, in virtue of his position as "bo's'n" to the party,
was privileged to walk hampered by no greater burden than his gun.

"We must keep up his sperrits, tho', poor chap," said Disco, in the
hoarse whisper with which he was wont to convey secret remarks, and
which was much more fitted to attract attention than his ordinary voice.
"It 'ud never do to let his sperrits down; 'cause w'y? he's weak, an'
if he know'd that his wife was dead, or took off as a slave, he'd never
be able to go along with us, and we couldn't leave him to starve here,
you know."

"Certainly not, Disco," returned Harold. "Besides, his wife _may_ be
alive, for all we know to the contrary.--How far did he say the village
was from where we landed, Antonio?"

"'Bout two, t'ree days," answered the bo's'n.

That night the party encamped beside the ruins of a small hamlet where
charred sticks and fragments of an African household's good