, threw up its massive right arm--I remember how
extraordinarily long the limb seemed and that it looked thick as a man's
thigh--in such a fashion as to cover its head.

Then the rifle exploded and I heard the bullet strike. By the light of
the flash I saw the great arm tumble down in a dead, helpless kind of
way, and next instant the whole forest began to echo with peal upon peal
of those awful roarings that I have described, each of which ended with
a dog-like _yowp_ of pain.

"You have hit him, Baas," said Hans, "and he isn't a ghost, for he
doesn't like it. But he's still very lively."

"Close up," I answered, "and hold out the spears while I reload."

My fear was that the brute would rush on us. But it did not. For all
that dreadful night we saw or heard it no more. Indeed, I began to hope
that after all the bullet had reached some mortal part and that the
great ape was dead.

At length, it seemed to be weeks afterwards, the dawn broke and revealed
us sitting white and shivering in the grey mist; that is, all except
Stephen, who had gone comfortably to sleep with his head resting on
Mavovo's shoulder. He is a man so equably minded and so devoid of
nerves, that I feel sure he will be one of the last to be disturbed by
the trump of the archangel. At least, so I told him indignantly when at
length we roused him from his indecent slumbers.

"You should judge things by results, Allan," he said with a yawn. "I'm
as fresh as a pippin while you all look as though you had been to a ball
with twelve extras. Have you retrieved the Kalubi yet?"

Shortly afterwards, when the mist lifted a little, we went out in a
line to "retrieve the Kalubi," and found--well, I won't describe what we
found. He was a cruel wretch, as the incident of the herd-boy had told
us, but I felt sorry for him. Still, his terrors were over, or at least
I hope so.

We deposited him in the box that Komba had kindly provided in
preparation for this inevitable event, and Brother John said a prayer
over his miscellaneous remains. Then, after consultation and in the very
worst of spirits, we set out to seek the way to the home of the Mother
of the Flower. The start was easy enough, for a distinct, though very
faint path led from the clearing up the slope of the hill. Afterwards it
became more difficult for the denser forest began. Fortunately very
few creepers grew in this forest, but the flat tops of the huge trees
meeting high above entirely shut out