, the channel by which I presume Babemba reached
the open lake, was now impracticable. Lastly, we searched to see if
there was any fallen log upon which we could possibly propel ourselves
to the other side, and found--nothing that could be made to serve, no,
nor, as I have said, any dry reeds or brushwood out of which we might
fashion a raft.

"Unless we can get a boat, here we must stay," I remarked to Hans, who
was seated with me behind a screen of rushes at the water's edge.

He made no answer, and as I thought, in a sort of subconscious way,
I engaged myself in watching a certain tragedy of the insect world.
Between two stout reeds a forest spider of the very largest sort had
spun a web as big as a lady's open parasol. There in the midst of this
web of which the bottom strands almost touched the water, sat the spider
waiting for its prey, as the crocodiles were waiting on the banks, as
the great ape had waited for the Kalubis, as Death waits for Life, as
the Motombo was waiting for God knows what.

It rather resembled the Motombo in his cave, did that huge, black
spider with just a little patch of white upon its head, or so I thought
fancifully enough. Then came the tragedy. A great, white moth of the
Hawk species began to dart to and fro between the reeds, and presently
struck the web on its lower side some three inches above the water. Like
a flash that spider was upon it. It embraced the victim with its long
legs to still its tremendous battlings. Next, descending below, it began
to make the body fast, when something happened. From the still surface
of the water beneath poked up the mouth of a very large fish which quite
quietly closed upon the spider and sank again into the depths, taking
with it a portion of the web and thereby setting the big moth free.
With a struggle it loosed itself, fell on to a piece of wood and floated
away, apparently little the worse for the encounter.

"Did you see that, Baas?" said Hans, pointing to the broken and empty
web. "While you were thinking, I was praying to your reverend father the
Predikant, who taught me how to do it, and he has sent us a sign from
the Place of Fire."

Even then I could not help laughing to myself as I pictured what my
dear father's face would be like if he were able to hear his convert's
remarks. An analysis of Hans's religious views would be really
interesting, and I only regret that I never made one. But sticking to
business I merely asked:

"Wh