We Had Just Returned, And Were Standing In The Cool Of The Evening On
The Lawn Opposite The Entrance Of The Camp, When One Of My Men Came
Rushing Towards Us, Shouting, "Richarn!
Richarn's come back!" In another
moment I saw with extreme delight the jet black Richarn, whom I had
mourned as lost, quietly marching towards us.
The meeting was almost
pathetic. I took him warmly by the hand and gave him a few words of
welcome, but my vakeel, who had never cared for him before, threw
himself upon his neck and burst out crying like a child. How long this
sobbing would have continued I know not, as several of my Arabs caught
the infection and began to be lachrymose, while Richarn, embraced on all
sides, stood the ordeal most stoically, looking extremely bewildered,
but totally unconscious of the cause of so much weeping. To change the
current of feeling, I told the boy Saat to fetch a large gourd-shell of
merissa (native beer), of which I had received a good supply from
Kalloe. This soon arrived, and was by far the most acceptable welcome to
Richarn, who drank like a whale. So large was the gourd, that even after
the mighty draught enough remained for the rest of the party to sip.
Refreshed by the much-loved drink, Richarn now told us his story. When
separated from Mahommed at the village he had found a great number of
people, some of whom were our runaway porters; on his attempting to
persuade them to return, a quarrel had taken place, and the chief of the
village heading his men had advanced on Richarn and seized his gun; - at
the same time the chief called to his men to kill him.
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