He would not have been the man he is, not to have been overcome at this parting; alas, to be, as it proved, a final parting, so far as concerns meeting again in this life. But this was not all--the doctor's faithful servants would not be forgotten, and rushing forward, they seized Stanley's hands and kissed them for their good master's sake. The stern and almost tyrannical man, that neither danger nor suffering could move, completely broke down under this last demonstration and could recover himself only by giving the sharp order, MARCH! and he almost drove his men before him, and soon a turn in the path shut out Livingstone's form forever. Yes, forever, so far as the living, speaking man is concerned, but shut out _never_ from Stanley's life. That one man fixed his destiny for this world, and who knows but for the eternal ages? No wonder that he said, long after, "My eyes grow dim at the remembrance of that parting. For four months and four days I lived with him in the same house, or in the same boat, or in the same tent, and I never found a fault in him. I am a man of a quick temper, and often without sufficient cause, I dare say, have broken ties of friendship; but with Livingstone I never had cause of resentment, but each day's life with him added to my admiration of him." The caravan marched wearily back, meeting with nothing eventful till it entered the Ugogo territory, where, owing to a misunderstanding on the part of the natives, who got it into their heads that Stanley meant to pass them without paying the accustomed tribute, a fight seemed inevitable. Had it occurred, it is doubtful whether he or Livingstone's papers would ever have been heard of again. But Stanley had seemed from his infancy a child of destiny, and escaped here, as everywhere, by the skin of his teeth. It was a constant succession of toilsome, painful marches, even when the natives were friendly, while there was often a scarcity of provisions. To secure these he, at last, when on the borders of the wilderness of Marenga Mkali, dispatched three men to Zanzibar, with a request to the consul there to send them back with provisions. These messengers were told not to halt for anything--rain, rivers or inundations--but push right on. "Then," says Stanley, "with a loud, vigorous hurrah, we plunged into the depths of the wilderness which, with its eternal silence and solitude, was far preferable to the jarring, inharmonious discord of the villages of the Wagogo. For nine hours we held on our way, starting with noisy shouts the fierce rhinoceros, the timid quagga and the herds of antelopes, which crowd the jungles of this broad Salina. On the 7th, amid a pelting rain, we entered Mpwapwa, where my Scotch assistant, Farquhar, had died."