"Then there is to be fighting?"

"Yes," said Durnovo, "there will be fighting. We must fight our way
there, and we must hold it when we get there. But so far as the
world is concerned, we are only a private expedition exploring the
source of the Ogowe."

"The Ogowe?" and again Guy Oscard's eyes lighted up.

"Yes, I do not mind telling you that much. To begin with, I trust
you; secondly, no one could get there without me to lead the way."

Guy Oscard looked at him with some admiration, and that sympathy
which exists between the sons of Ishmael. Durnovo looked quite fit
for the task he set himself. He had regained his strength on the
voyage, and with returning muscular force his moral tone was higher,
his influence over men greater. Amidst the pallid sons of the
pavement among whom Guy Oscard had moved of late, this African
traveller was a man apart--a being much more after his own heart.
The brown of the man's face and hands appealed to him--the dark
flashing eyes, the energetic carriage of head and shoulders. Among
men of a fairer skin the taint that was in Victor Durnovo's blood
became more apparent--the shadow on his finger-nails, the deep olive
of his neck against the snowy collar, and the blue tint in the white
of his eyes.

But none of these things militated against him in Oscard's mind.
They only made him fitter for the work he had undertaken.