The return journey began. A remarkable tribute to Kingozi's influence, not only over his own men, but over those of the new safari, might have been read from the fact that there was brought for correction not one grumble, either over the halving of the _potio_ or the apparently endless counter- marching. As far as the white members were concerned the journey was one of doggedness and gloom. Kingozi's strong will managed to keep to the foreground the details of his immediate duty; but to do so he had to sink all other considerations whatever. The same effort required to submerge all thought of the darkened years to come carried down also every recollection of the past. The Leopard Woman ceased to exist, not because she had lost importance, but because Kingozi's mind was focussed on a single point.

And she. Perhaps she understood this; perhaps the tearing antagonism of her own purposes, duties, and desires stunned or occupied her--who knows? The outward result was the same as in the case of her companion. They walked apart, ate apart, lived each in his superb isolation, going forward like sleep-walkers to what the future might hold.

Thus they travelled for ten days. In mid-march, then, Cazi Moto came to tell Kingozi that two more messengers had arrived.

"They are not people of our country," he added. "They are _shenzis_ such as no man here ever saw before."

"What sort of _shenzis?_"

"Short, square men. Very black. Hair that is long and stands out like a little tree."

"What do they say?"

"_Bwana_, they speak a language that no man here understands. And this is strange: that they do not come from the direction of Nairobi."

"Perhaps they are men from M'tela."

"No, _bwana_, that cannot be, for they carry a _barua_. They came from a white man."

"That is strange, very strange," said Kingozi quickly. "I do not understand. Is there water near where we stand?"

"There is the water of the place we called _Campi ya Korungu_ when we passed before."

"Make camp there."

"The sun is at four hours[13], _bwana_."

[Footnote 13: 10:00 o'clock.]

"It makes no difference."

When camp had been pitched Kingozi caused the new messengers to be brought before him. A few moments' questioning elicited two facts: one, that there existed no medium of communication known to both parties; two, that the strangers were from some part of the Congo basin. The latter conclusion Kingozi gained from catching a few words of a language root known to him. He stretched his hand for the letter.

It was in a long linen envelope, unsealed, and unembossed.

Not from the government. He unfolded the sheets of paper and ran his fingers over the pages. Written in pencil; he could feel the indentations where the writer had borne down. Some private individual writing him from camp on the Congo side. Who could it be? Kingozi's Central African acquaintance was wide; he knew most of the gentlemen adventurers roaming through that land of fascination. A good many were not averse to ivory poaching; and the happy hunting ground of ivory poaching was at that time the French Congo. It might be any of them. But how could they know of his whereabouts in this unknown country? And how could they know he was in this country at all? These last two points seemed to him important. Suddenly he threw his head back and laughed aloud.

"Self-centred egotist!" he addressed himself. "Cazi Moto, tell Bibi-ya- chui I wish to see her."

Cazi Moto departed to return immediately with the Leopard Woman who, at this hour, was still in her marching clothes. If she felt any surprise at this early abandonment of the day's march she did not show it. Two _askaris_, confided with the task of guarding her, followed a few paces to the rear. She glanced curiously at the bushy savages.

"Here," said Kingozi, holding out the letter, "is a _barua_ for you--from your friend Winkleman in the Congo."

The shock of surprise held her speechless for a moment.

"Your blindness is well! You can see!" she cried then.

Kingozi raised his head sharply, for there was a lilt of relief and gladness in her voice.

"No," he answered, "just ordinary deduction. Am I right?"

He heard her slowly unfolding the paper.

"Yes, you are right," she said in sober tones, after a moment. She uttered a happy exclamation, then another; then ran to his side and threw her arms around his neck in an impulsive hug. Kingozi remembered the waiting men and motioned them away. She was talking rapidly, almost hysterically, as people talk when relieved of a pressure.

"Yes, it is from Winkleman. He has come in from the Congo side. When this letter was written he was only ten days' march from M'tela."

"How do you know that?" interjected Kingozi sharply.

"Native information, he says. Oh, I am so glad! so glad! so glad!"

"That was the plan from the start, was it?" said Kingozi. "I ............