"We must keep a good look-out," he said, "in case that fellow should be one of a band prowling about here. He won't be difficult to recognise. There can't be many men of his height and size. And if there were, I should know him again by some strange marks on his face. Why do these black men gash themselves, John?" "To make him look pretty, sah." "Um! They've a queer notion of beauty, then." Anxious to accomplish his errand and return to Challis, Royce pushed on as rapidly as possible. The country was pathless, for the most part flat, with undulations here and there, covered with thick bush varied by an occasional gum-tree. Drysdale's rough sketch-map gave him little more than a bare direction, and he had to trust a good deal to luck. After three hours' steady marching, which ought to have brought them to the village, if the estimate of its distance were correct, they were still in the same wild, barren country, without a sign of mankind. It seemed probable that they had overshot the mark, so, after taking a short rest, they altered their direction in the hope of discovering a path. It was late in the afternoon, and they were very tired, when at last they struck into a narrow, beaten track, far to the left of their original course. "This looks promising," said Royce. "We'll make a spurt, John." Another half-hour brought them to cultivated fields. Crossing these, they found themselves faced by a mud wall, fourteen or fifteen feet high, pierced by a single gate. This was closed. "It's a town, after all," said Royce; "not a village. So much the better, if the people are friendly. Give them a call, John." [Illustration: JOHN ADDRESSES THE SENTRY] The Hausa let out his long yodelling cry. A head was seen peering over the top of the wall. John lifted both hands, and spread them, palms open, as a sign of friendliness; then began an address in the native tongue, somewhat as follows: "Ho, you admirable watchman of a noble chief! Tell your kind and worthy lord that a stranger from the lands of the Great White King seeks to look upon his face, and have a friendly talk with him. My lord and master is a very great man, with horses and cattle in number as the grains in a cornfield, and it is a great honour that he does to your chief. Open, then, your gate, and let this great lord enter; and, as he passes, let your people fall to the ground, and throw earth upon their bodies, as befits folk who are but as worms in his sight." Unconscious of the extravagant claims made on his behalf, Royce leant on his rifle, waiting. The head disappeared. Some minutes elapsed; then the watchman came back to his perch, and a long conversation ensued between him and the Hausa, who grew more and more excited, and raised his voice until it became almost a yell. "What is it all about?" asked Royce, beginning to suspect that his man was growing impolite.