"But why come to me? What can I do?" asked Tom, astonished at the confidence with which Mwesa put his cousin’s plea. It was almost laughable that they should seek help of him, a fugitive, one whom Reinecke had tried to kill, a single man without resources in an enemy’s country. "Sah English," exclaimed Mwesa. "Sah savvy big medicine, white man medicine. Sah boss, no fear." Touched by this childlike faith in the power either of the English name or of "white man medicine," which he supposed to mean some magic art, he was at a loss what answer to make. He was willing enough to help, but quite unable to see how. It seemed best to temporise--to refrain from immediately dashing the negroes’ hopes, and to explain to them presently how impossible was the feat besought of him. "We will talk it over in our hut," he said, and was then sorry he had deferred the inevitable disappointment, for Mwesa clapped his hands and laughed, and said to Mushota a few words that set him laughing too. His caution had only strengthened their belief in him. The two negroes chattered together the rest of the way to the hut, and Tom was left to his by no means pleasant reflections. How could he break the unpalatable truth to these simple souls? What would be the effect on them? He could enter into their feelings through the recollection of an incident of his own childhood. His father had promised him, a child of five, the present of a horse, and he remembered the bitter tears he shed when the horse turned out to be a wooden toy instead of the expected creature of flesh and bone. The negro is always a child. And then he found himself thinking: "Why not risk a visit to the plantation? It’s running my head into a noose, perhaps; but after all I owe to Mwesa I may at least show him that I’m ready to do what I can. He can get in and out: why shouldn’t I? Reinecke is absent. I don’t suppose he ever confided to the Arabs his pleasant intentions with regard to me; perhaps I might venture to tackle them (provided the drill sergeants aren’t about), and get them to release Mirambo.... What tosh! of course that’s impossible: still, I might at least reconnoitre, and I’ll be hanged if I don’t." It was dark when they reached the hut, but the slight glow from the fire that Mwesa had kept always burning in the enclosure revealed to Tom the look of hopeful contentment on the faces of the two negroes. They all squatted at the entrance, and Tom asked: "When will Reinecke be back?" Mwesa translated to his cousin. The answer was, "To-morrow night." "How many Germans are at the plantation?’ "One: the other had accompanied Reinecke." "And how many askaris?" "Six; the others had gone to Bismarckburg."