Just after noon, on the fifth day after the pigmies' present, the travellers found that the forest was thinning somewhat; the trees were farther apart, and there was a renewal of the low bush, not so dense or so obstructive as it had been for the past few days. Presently they came to an almost open glade, and Mbutu pointed to a track crossing the direction of their march from clump to clump. It was not four hours old, he declared; the footprints were still soft and clearly marked. They were too large to have been made by pigmies. The weary travellers sat down on a heap of leaves, hastily collected, to talk the matter over, Mbutu being in favour of going in the same direction as the footprints, which must lead, sooner or later, to a village. Suddenly they heard a rapid thud-thud as of heavy footsteps on the sodden ground, accompanied by a curious clanking, suggesting to Tom the sound of a loose horseshoe on a turfy moor. As they were wondering what it might be, a tall black figure, scantily clad, ran out of the forest on their right, labouring heavily, the sweat rolling off his face and body, his eyes protruding with eagerness and fear. Tom had just noticed that part of a chain, with a broken block of wood attached to it, hung from a gyve on the man's left ankle, and another chain from an iron circlet about his left wrist, when three Arabs and a negro came out of the wood at short intervals in hot pursuit.
Tom and Mbutu were partially concealed from the strangers by the straggling bush. Pursued and pursuers had almost crossed the wide open space, the foremost Arab but a yard behind, when the fettered negro stopped short suddenly, turned round, and with a desperate movement of his left arm struck the Arab full in the face with the dangling chain. The Arab dropped, and the hunted man turned again to flee, but the rest were almost upon him. Tom saw that, encumbered as the negro was, he must inevitably be run down in a few moments. Instinctively taking the weaker side, and forgetting his own exhaustion, he sprang up, and sprinting with all the speed of which his tired limbs were capable, he dashed after the pursuers, followed closely by Mbutu. The chase had evidently been a long one; hunters and hunted were breathless, and trod heavily. In the excitement of the moment Tom dashed along at a speed of which a minute earlier he would have thought himself utterly incapable; and he soon saw that he was gaining rapidly on the Arabs. They had muskets, which he inferred they had already fired, and had had no time to reload. He had his staff, and Mbutu clutched his knife.