"Do you remember that in 1876 Tippu-Tib broke his contract with me, and returned to Nyangwe, leaving me alone. Well, with about 130 of my own men, I drove my way down the Congo despite his sneer. You said you met Dr. Lenz, the Austrian traveller, at Lamu, after having failed to reach Emin Pasha. Why did he fail? He relied on Tippu-Tib alone; he had no private reserve of force to fall back upon. You have over 200 carriers and 50 soldiers, besides servants and efficient companions. On the Congo work I was promised a contingent of natives to assist me. Only a few came, and those deserted; but I had a faithful reserve of sixty-eight men--they were the fellows who made the Congo State. You remember my letter to the _Times_, where I said, 'We do not want Tippu-Tib to assist us in finding Emin Pasha. We want him to carry ammunition, and on his return to bring away ivory to help pay the expenses of the Mission.' Then, as a last proof of how I regard Tippu-Tib, do not forget that written order to Lieutenant Stairs a few days ago, to rake his settlement with the machine gun upon the least sign of treachery. You have read that letter. You ought to know that the gage of battle is not thrown in the face of a trusted friend. "Now, Major, my dear fellow, don't be silly. I know you feel sore because you are not to go with us in the advance. You think you will lose some _kudos_. Not a bit of it. Ever since King David, those who remain with the stuff, and those who go to the war, receive the same honours. Besides, I don't like the word 'kudos.' The kudos impulse is like the pop of a ginger-beer bottle, good for a V.C. or an Albert medal, but it effervesces in a month of Africa. It is a damp squib, Major. Think rather of Tennyson's lines:-- "Not once or twice in our fair island story Has the path of duty been the way to glory." There, shake hands upon this, Major. For us the word is 'Right Onward'; for you 'Patience and Forbearance.' I want my tea. I am dry with talking." On the 25th the stockade was completed all round the camp, the ditch was approaching completion. Barttelot superintended the works on one side; Jephson, in shirt-sleeves, looked over another. Nelson was distributing the European provisions--share and share alike; our Doctor, cheery, smiling, anxious as though he were at a surgical operation, was constructing a gate, and performed the carpenter's operation in such a manner that I wrote in my diary that evening, "He is certainly one of the best fellows alive." Jameson was busy copying the letter of instructions. Stairs was in bed with a severe bilious fever.