"It’s jolly of you," said John. "I’d accept your offer in a moment if it weren’t for those blackguards who stole our rifles. It would be hard lines on you if they came and attacked you while I was away." "They won’t do it. You told me yourself that you’d sent Bill out to see if he could discover their whereabouts, and he didn’t hear anything of them. Besides, if they do come we can defend ourselves. They didn’t show any eagerness to come to very close quarters with us, and I don’t doubt for a moment that with my men and yours--I suppose the Indians can handle a rifle on occasion?--we could beat them off." "Very well, then: I’ll chance it. I’ll take Wasama and three men from the village: his boy can look after the cattle here. I shall have to hire another Masai to help when I get back: there’s too much work for two now. You’ll find Bill a great help; I wish he would come and live here, but he’s an independent old boy and won’t leave his little hut in the wood." "Hadn’t you better take him with you? Four men won’t be enough for the job. You must carry food and a tent, you know." "I didn’t mean to take a tent. Why not camp in the open?" "You’d be rather sorry if it happened to rain." "But the rains aren’t due for another month," objected John, looking at his almanac. "I dare say not, but they may start a bit earlier, and if you think you’re going to get all those beasts to Nairobi in a week, or even two, you’re mistaken. Remember the streams to cross and the thorn bush to get through. And you’ll have to put a boma round the whole lot every night, and that will be a long job with so few men. You’ll need twenty at the very least, my boy, so make up your mind for it. Ask Wasama." John had in fact felt some misgiving lest the party he proposed to take should not be strong enough to guard the animals against wild beasts, or natives who chanced to be hostile or predatory; but he was so anxious to economize that he had stilled his doubts. When Wasama backed up Ferrier’s point, he yielded to the inevitable, and engaged fifteen more men in the village. Ferrier insisted on his taking the three Uganda men he had retained out of his safari, because they were not only trained porters, but very fair shots. John wished he had a horse to ride, or at least a mule, not caring about donkey-rides: but Ferrier chaffed him on his singular regard for appearances, and he decided at last to mount the best of the donkeys. One fine September day the safari set off, numbering twenty in all. Coja was very much depressed at not being able to accompany his master, but his wound was not yet sufficiently healed. The start was watched by the whole community, and as John rode off in the rear of the caravan he felt sure he heard Said Mohammed’s high-pitched voice quote, "The lowing herd winds slowly o’er the lea," and proceed to a recitation of the Elegy.