“Now, what I wish you to tell me, Frank, is your opinion as to what we ought to do.” Frank’s answer was ready. “I say, ‘Go on, sir.’” “Think well, my dear fellow; don’t be hasty, life and death hang on our decision. Don’t you think we could explore to the east of Cameron’s road?” “But there is nothing like this great river, sir.” “What do you say to Lake Lincoln, Lake Kamolondo, Lake Bemba, and all that part, down to the Zambezi?” “Ah! that is a fine field, sir, and perhaps the natives would not be so ferocious. Would they?” “Yet, as you said just now, it would be nothing to the great river, which for all these thousands of years has been flowing steadily to the north through hundreds, perhaps thousands, of miles, of which no one has ever heard a word!” “Let us follow the river, sir.” “Yet, my friend, think yet again. Look at all these faithful fellows whose lives depend on our word; think of our own, for we are yet young, and strong, and active. Why should we throw them away for a barren honour, or if we succeed, have every word we said doubted, and carped at, and our motives misconstrued by malicious minds, who distort everything to our injury?” “Ah, true, sir. I was one of those who doubted that you had ever found Livingstone. I don’t mind telling you now. Until I came to Zanzibar, and saw your people, I did not believe it, and there are hundreds in Rochester who shared my opinion.” “And do you believe, Frank, that you are in Manyema now?” “I am obliged to, sir.” “Are you not afraid, should you return to England, that when men say you have never been to Africa, as no doubt they will, you will come to disbelieve it yourself?” “Ah no, sir,” he replied. “I can never forget Ituru; the death of my brother in that wild land; the deaths of so many Wangwana there; the great Lake; Uganda; our march to Muta Nzigé; Rumanika; my life in Ujiji; the Tanganika; and our march here.” “But what do you think, Frank? Had we not better explore north-east of here, until we reach Muta Nzigé, circumnavigate that lake, and strike across to Uganda again, and return to Zanzibar by way of Kagehyi?” “That would be a fine job, sir, if we could do it.” “Yet, if you think of it, Frank, this great river which Livingstone first saw, and which broke his heart almost to turn away from and leave a mystery, is a noble field too. Fancy, by-and-by, after buying or building canoes, our floating down the river day by day, either to the Nile or to some vast lake in the far north, or to the Congo and the Atlantic Ocean! Think what a benefit our journey will be to Africa. Steamers from the mouth of the Congo to Lake Bemba, and to all the great rivers which run into it!” “I say, sir, let us toss up; best two out of three to decide it.” “Toss away. Here is a rupee.” “Heads for the north and the Lualaba; tails for the south and Katanga.” Frank stood up, his face beaming. He tossed the rupee high up. The coin dropped. “What is it?” I asked.