‘Hello!’ I said, ‘who in the mischief are you?’ ‘I am Susi, sir, the servant of Dr. Livingstone.’ ‘What! is Dr. Livingstone here in this town?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘But, are you sure; sure that it is Dr. Livingstone?’ ‘Why, I leave him just now, sir.’ Before I could express my wonder, a similarly-dressed man elbowed his way briskly to me, and said,-- ‘Good-morning, sir.’ ‘Are you also a servant of Dr. Livingstone?’ I asked. ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘And what is your name?’ ‘It is Chuma.’ ‘Oh! the friend of Wekotani, from the Nassick School?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Well, now that we have met, one of you had better run ahead, and tell the Doctor of my coming.’ The same idea striking Susi’s mind, he undertook in his impulsive manner to inform the Doctor, and I saw him racing headlong, with his white dress streaming behind him like a wind-whipped pennant. The column continued on its way, beset on either flank by a vehemently-enthusiastic and noisily-rejoicing mob, which bawled a jangling chorus of ‘Yambos’ to every mother’s son of us, and maintained an inharmonious orchestral music of drums and horns. I was indebted for this loud ovation to the cheerful relief the people felt that we were not Mirambo’s bandits, and to their joy at the happy rupture of the long silence that had perforce existed between the two trading colonies of Unyanyembe and Ujiji, and because we brought news which concerned every householder and freeman of this lake port. After a few minutes we came to a halt. The guides in the van had reached the market-place, which was the central point of interest. For there the great Arabs, chiefs, and respectabilities of Ujiji, had gathered in a group to await events; thither also they had brought with them the venerable European traveller who was at that time resting among them. The caravan pressed up to them, divided itself into two lines on either side of the road, and, as it did so, disclosed to me the prominent figure of an elderly white man clad in a red flannel blouse, grey trousers, and a blue cloth, gold-banded cap. Up to this moment my mind had verged upon non-belief in his existence, and now a nagging doubt intruded itself into my mind that this white man could not be the object of my quest, or if he were, he would somehow contrive to disappear before my eyes would be satisfied with a view of him. Consequently, though the expedition was organized for this supreme moment, and every movement of it had been confidently ordered with the view of discovering him, yet when the moment of discovery came, and the man himself stood revealed before me, this constantly recurring doubt contributed not a little to make me unprepared for it. ‘It may not be Livingstone after all,’ doubt suggested. If this is he, what shall I say to him? My imagination had not taken this question into consideration before. All around me was the immense crowd, hushed and expectant, and wondering how the scene would develop itself.