I replaced my hat on my head, and he replaced his cap, and we
both grasped hands. I then said aloud:
"I thank God, Doctor, I have been permitted to see you."
He answered, "I feel thankful that I am here to welcome you."
I turned to the Arabs, took off my hat to them in response to the
saluting chorus of "Yambos" I received, and the Doctor introduced
them to me by name. Then, oblivious of the crowds, oblivious of
the men who shared with me my dangers, we - Livingstone and I -
turned our faces towards his house. He pointed to the veranda,
or rather, mud platform, under the broad overhanging eaves; he
pointed to his own particular seat, which I saw his age and
experience in Africa had suggested, namely, a straw mat, with a
goatskin over it, and another skin nailed against the wall to
protect his back from contact with the cold mud. I protested
against taking this seat, which so much more befitted him than I,
but the Doctor would not yield: I must take it.
We were seated - the Doctor and I - with our backs to the wall.
The Arabs took seats on our left. More than a thousand natives
were in our front, filling the whole square densely, indulging
their curiosity, and discussing the fact of two white men meeting
at Ujiji - one just come from Manyuema, in the west, the other from
Unyanyembe, in the east.
