"It's Culbertson!" "Where did _you_ rain down from?" "We've been looking for you without end! Isn't this a lark, old man!"
In the meantime, in the personal attendants of these white men, Simba had discovered acquaintances; among them the two messengers Kingozi had despatched back in quest of Doctor McCloud.
Kingozi stood in the middle of the group, his heart overflowing. It was good to see so many white faces again; it was good to see the faces of friends; it was good to know that his labours had not been in vain, and that the border was assured. And underneath it was a great exaltation. He walked on air. For she had not known! The blank astonishment of her face had proved that to him beyond a doubt. She really thought that she had destroyed the pilocarpin; she had not deliberately held from him the light of day!
His high spirits expressed themselves in an animation and volubility so unlike the taciturn Culbertson that many of his acquaintances stared.
"Seems quite bucked up," commented one to another. "Must have had a deuce of a time back here."
"What is this arm of His Majesty's Service, anyway?" Kingozi was asking in general. "I mean the mounted and disreputable portion, not the decent infantry."
"This, my son, is the Settlers' Own Irregulars; and we've come out for to hunt the shy and elusive German."
"Good heads scarce up this way," rejoined Kingozi. "I've caught one specimen myself, however."
"Rather! The native _fundi?_[19] You don't mean to say you've got him!"
"I've got him. He's the only specimen in these parts. But I can show you several thousand of the best fighting men in Africa--all loyal British allies."
"Good man!" cried a grizzled old settler. "I told 'em you'd do it!"
"But the war?" demanded Kingozi eagerly. "What of the war? Tell me? I know nothing whatever."
One of the younger men dismounted and insisted on delivering his animal to Kingozi.
"Do me good to stretch my legs," said he. "And you've walked your share."
Riding in a little group of the officers Kingozi listened attentively to an account of affairs as far as they were known. The Marne, and the Retreat from Mons straightened him in his saddle. It was worth it; he had done his bit! Whatever the price, it was worth it!