I repeated what I had said. “Well,” he replied, “it has been a main wet season out north, that I can see, and if you don’t go more than forty or fifty miles from the track you may get back within a week safe enough.” He paused for a moment, and looked me steadily in the face, and went on— “But, governor, if you go for the second part of the programme you’ll never see a white man again.” “Why so?” said I. “Well,” said he, “you are depending on Gioro. Now Gioro is a good fellow, far the best black fellow I ever knew by a very long way. And my best hope for you is that Gioro will take you back once he has had a look at his people. He will, if he knows what will happen as well as I know it.” “And what will happen?” said I. “Well, they’ll kill Gioro before he has been very long among them. Sooner or later they always kill the blacks that have been among white men.” “And then,” struck in Jack, “I suppose they will kill us.” “They may and they may not. You have ten times a better chance that Gioro. But if they don’t you will be as good as their slaves for life. You won’t be able to get back unless they take you back, and they will never take you back.” “Suppose we start to return on our own account?” “Well,” said the man, “if you are not more than forty or fifty miles to the west of the wire when you make the start eastward, and if you are able to make straight for the wire you may get back. But if you are much further away, or if you have to go a long way round you’ll die of thirst or hunger in the bush.” I noticed that he put thirst first. “And, mind,” he went on, “the chances are that you will be three times fifty miles to the west before you think of turning back.” “Why?” “Because it’s easy enough to travel with the blacks, easy enough for men of your sort, men that are hardy and are up to larks. The blacks know how to get food and water and fire, and you can live while in their company. It’s only when you leave them that you will be done for.” Here Jack chimed in again. “Never mind,” said he, “Mr. Easterley and I are going to try it, win or lose. Besides, after what you have told us, I wouldn’t let poor ‘Jo’ go alone. We’ll save him and he’ll help us.” The answer came slowly. “Jo is your trump card, certainly ... and your only one.” Then Fetherston spoke. “Gentlemen, if I were your master I should absolutely forbid you to go, but I have not the right to interfere with your liberty. But I am glad that you have had the benefit of Mr. Blundell’s experience.” (Mr. Blundell was Tim.) “His opinion and mine coincide exactly.” “Well,” said I, “Mr. Fetherston, we will be careful and we will bear in mind your advice, and I think it is on the whole most probable that you will see us back within the week.” “Possible,” said Jack. They all looked very sober then, and nothing more was said on the subject, and indeed little on any subject until the company broke up. CHAPTER V. AMONG THE BLACKS.