But I must tell you of Makweke. He ran off to a little distance, climbed a tree, and let himself down into the hollow trunk—the hiding-place of which he had been told. There he was safe, but he could hear the noise and shoutings of the people who were searching for him getting nearer and nearer, until at last they reached his tree, halted, beat the bushes under it and the lower branches with their sticks, and then—what relief!—passed on. He told us afterwards that he was so scared he hardly dared breathe, and although he knew they could not see him, he trembled with fear as long as they were near. Late at night, after the visitors had left, his mistress took some food out to him, and told him to remain there until the morning, when probably her husband’s anger would be finished. Then he might come back to the village. He did so, and the affair passed without further trouble. All this decided us that we would not remain in such a place of danger a day longer than we could help. I was older now, and had grown big and strong, and once across the river I knew that a warm welcome would be accorded to me and any who went with me. Our only fear was of recapture before we could reach the river, but we all felt it was worth risking, so from that time we began in dead earnest to look out for an opportunity of running away. Not so very long after the chief and some of his people went to pay a visit and remained over night. All was quiet in the village, and no one troubled about us boys, so in the dense darkness of a moonless night we gathered together. Hastily we made our plans, picked up the little food we had saved from our evening meal, grasped our hunting spears and knives, and slipped away into the bush at the back of the village. We went very stealthily—nya-nya, like a leopard when he is stalking his prey—scared at every sound, starting at the snapping of a twig, the call of a night-bird or the whistle of an insect. On and on we pressed, not daring to speak to each other, lest we might betray our whereabouts to some unfriendly native, or one who was friendly to our masters, scarcely able to see the path, for the moon had not yet risen, scratching ourselves as we passed thorny bushes, treading on sticks and roots of trees projecting from the ground—and still on—what mattered wounds or weariness if at last we reached the river and liberty? We made good progress during the first few hours, and were not much afraid of pursuit, as our flight would not be discovered until morning; but by and by some of our party (which consisted of a man and his wife with a little child as well as three of us boys) began to get weary, and it was necessary that we should get away from the main road, lest we should be overtaken. So we turned off into a side road, and at a little distance from it we found a large fallen tree which made a good hiding-place. There we lay down and slept for some time, one of us taking turns at watching and listening.