“And how long do you think this little journey will take you?”

“A year and a half, at the furthest, from the day I leave Unyanyembe.”

“Suppose you say two years; contingencies might arise, you know.  It will be well for me to hire these new men for two years; the day of their engagement to begin from their arrival at Unyanyembe.”

“Yes, that will do excellently well.”

“Now, my dear Doctor, the best friends must part.  You have come far enough; let me beg of you to turn back.”

“Well, I will say this to you:  you have done what few men could do—­far better than some great travellers I know.  And I am grateful to you for what you have done for me.  God guide you safe home, and bless you, my friend.”

“And may God bring you safe back to us all, my dear friend.  Farewell!”

“Farewell!”

We wrung each other’s hands, and I had to tear myself away before I unmanned myself; but Susi, and Chumah, and Hamoydah—­the Doctor’s faithful fellows—­they must all shake and kiss my hands before I could quite turn away.  I betrayed myself!

“Good-bye, Doctor—­dear friend!”

“Good-bye!”

The FAREWELL between Livingstone and myself had been spoken.  We were parted, he to whatever fate Destiny had yet in store for him, to battling against difficulties, to many, many days of marching through wildernesses, with little or nothing much to sustain him save his own high spirit, and enduring faith in God—­“who would bring all things right at last;” and I to that which Destiny may have in store for me.

But though I may live half a century longer, I shall never forget that parting scene in Central Africa.  I shall never cease to think of the sad tones of that sorrowful word Farewell, how they permeated through every core of my heart, how they clouded my eyes, and made me wish unutterable things which could never be.

An audacious desire to steal one embrace from the dear old man came over me, and almost unmanned me.  I felt tempted to stop with him and assist him, on his long return march to the fountain region, but these things were not to be, any more than many other impulsive wishes, and despite the intensified emotions which filled both of us, save by silent tears, and a tremulous parting word, we did not betray our stoicism of manhood and race.

I assumed a gruff voice, and ordered the Expedition to march, and I resolutely turned my face toward the eastern sky.  But ever and anon my eyes would seek that deserted figure of an old man in grey clothes, who with bended head and slow steps was returning to his solitude, the very picture of melancholy, and each time I saw him—­as the plain was wide and clear of obstructions—­I felt my eyes stream, and my heart swell with a vague, indefinable feeling of foreboding and sorrow.