y
northward, Berbera but faintly visible in the rear by the glow of the
burning torches.

Hour after hour they steamed on. Neither Guy nor Melton could sleep, but
sitting aft on camp stools they talked in whispers of the dread events
they had witnessed, and of what might be before them.

At midnight the steamer came to a sudden stop. The machinery, exerted to
the highest pressure, had broken in some part. A delay was inevitable,
the captain assured them, but in a couple of hours the repairs could be
made.

Morning came, revealing the distant yellow line of the African coast,
but still the steamer lay at anchor, rocking gently in the early
morning breeze. It may be imagined with what a fever of impatience Guy
and Melton lived through those weary hours.

It was nearly midday when the repairs were completed, and the vessel
forged ahead again. For fear of fresh accidents, the captain refused to
crowd on steam, and when at last the turrets and brown walls of Zaila
came in view, it was late in the afternoon.

At a distance, all seemed peaceful; the English flag was floating from
half a dozen different buildings of the town. In the harbor lay three or
four Arab dhows and a neat little steamer, which the captain said
belonged to the governor, and was used for transporting troops or
despatches.

Captain Waller anchored close by the town, and accompanied Guy, Melton,
and Momba on shore in a small boat. So far, at least, all was well.

A few Arabs and Somalis were sitting around lazily on the sand, and
troops of the Bombay Infantry were seen moving about the streets.

"Appear as unconscious as possible," whispered Melton. "Let nothing be
suspected."

A close observer might have detected traces of suppressed curiosity on
the faces of the Arabs and Somalis, but they were evidently deceived by
the careless manner of the new arrivals, for after a keen scrutiny they
settled back into lazy attitudes.

"I don't like the looks of those fellows," said Melton, "and another
thing I don't like is the presence of those Arab dhows in the harbor.
But look, Chutney, there is the residency ahead of us."

They were approaching a low building of sun-baked brick, with Venetian
awnings at the entrance and windows. Half a dozen sentries were on
guard, and an officer came forward to meet the little party.

Guy saluted.

"I am the bearer of important despatches for the governor of Zaila," he
said, "and must see him at once."

The offic