"But it is immaterial. The thing has to be done. We will go ahead, we will blaze the trees, and mark our track through the forest for you. We will avail ourselves of every advantage--any path easterly will suit me until I bore through and through it, and come out on the plains or pastureland. And where we go, you can go. If we can't go on, you will hear from us somehow. Are you now satisfied?" "Perfectly," he replied. "I have it all here," touching his forehead--"and this paper and letter will be my reminders. But there is one thing I should like to speak about, it refers to something you said to me in London." "Ah, indeed. What was said that was in any way peculiar?" I asked. "Well"--here there was a little hesitation--"do you remember when Mr. ----, of the India Office, introduced me to you? The words you used sounded strangely, as though someone had been warning you against me." "My dear Barttelot, take my word for it, I don't remember to have heard the name of Barttelot before I heard your name. But you interest me. What could I have possibly said that was any way peculiar to cling to your memory like this? I remember the circumstance well?" "The fact is," he said, "you said something about 'forbearance,' which reminded me that I had heard that word before, when General ---- pitched into me about punishing a Somali mutineer in the desert during the Soudan campaign. I was all alone with the Somalis when they turned on me, and I sprang upon the ringleader at last when there was no other way of reducing them to order and pistolled him, and at once the Somalis became quiet as lambs. I thought that General ----, who is not remarkable for goodwill to me, had mentioned the affair to you."