They caught up with the caravan on the eighth day, after narrowly missing it, for a compass-led trip over the desert is no easy matter to keep accurate. The cattle were going along well, the injured Masai were healing well enough to walk part of the day, and all promised favorably for the last stages of the journey. Being away from fresh game, the Masai were forced to drink water on the desert, much to their disgust. However, Bakari realized the necessity of keeping his men on the allowance given them, and there was no tapping the barrels at night this time. Day after day they plodded along through the dust, and at length Schoverling and the others rode ahead to bring out the other wagon with more water. So well had the explorer led them that they arrived within half a mile of the camp, to be met with shouts of delight by the men and tears of joy by the lonely Gurkha who had remained in charge. The other oxen were found sleek and well, and Guru, who protested his entire ability, was sent out with the second wagon, loaded with water and fresh fodder, to meet the other. They came in five days later without accident, the footsore and weary Masai riding delightedly in the extra wagon. After a rest of two days, the load was divided between the two wagons and all set forth for the last trek across the first plain they had crossed. But this was not so bad as that other, and with the aid of an opportune rainstorm that lasted all night, they reached the friendly foothills once more and gained the villages of the Samburo. From here on to Yonge's Station was play compared to what they had been through. The commissioner met them with great delight, and they outspanned the oxen for a three-days' rest before going on. The Masai were paid and dismissed, each with a handsome gift that sent them away rejoicing. "Here," said Captain Yonge, holding out an envelope, "is a cable that was forwarded by runner. It came in two days since." Schoverling reached across the dinner-table and tore it open. He scanned it, then broke into a laugh and read it aloud: "'_Louis Schoverling, care Captain Yonge, Commissioner District, B. S. A._: "'Best wishes. Bags valued seventy pounds. Got ahead of you there. "'SELIM BEN AMOUD'" They related the story of their trip to Yonge. Schoverling had been in some doubt as to the advisability of saying anything about the gold-dust, but von Hofe overruled him. When they had finished, the captain dissipated their doubts. "Why, of course, my dear fellow! There will be no objection in the least to your keeping the ivory. You have brought back great news. Poor Mowbray! He was a plucky fellow, and we always regretted orders to go out after him--though he licked us every time. But that news about the new country up north is great! I shouldn't wonder if you got an F. R. G. S. out of it, Schoverling."