ad out through the lacings of the
hide beneath the reed-stuffed mask of the gorilla, which fell over
languidly upon his shoulder. Komba saw his ugly little face and knew it
again.

"It is a trick!" he roared. "These white devils have killed the god and
stolen the Holy Flower and its priestess. The yellow man is wrapped in
the skin of the god. To the boats! To the boats!"

"Paddle," I shouted to Brother John and Stephen, "paddle for your lives!
Mavovo, help me get up the sail."

As it chanced on that stormy morning the wind was blowing strongly
towards the mainland.

We laboured at the mast, shipped it and hauled up the mat sail, but
slowly for we were awkward at the business. By the time that it began
to draw the paddles had propelled us about four hundred yards from the
wharf, whence many canoes, with their sails already set, were starting
in pursuit. Standing in the prow of the first of these, and roaring
curses and vengeance at us, was Komba, the new Kalubi, who shook a great
spear above his head.

An idea occurred to me, who knew that unless something were done we
must be overtaken and killed by these skilled boatmen. Leaving Mavovo
to attend to the sail, I scrambled aft, and thrusting aside the fainting
Hans, knelt down in the stern of the canoe. There was still one charge,
or rather one cap, left, and I meant to use it. I put up the largest
flapsight, lifted the little rifle and covered Komba, aiming at the
point of his chin. _Intombi_ was not sighted for or meant to use at this
great distance, and only by this means of allowing for the drop of the
bullet, could I hope to hit the man in the body.

The sail was drawing well now and steadied the boat, also, being still
under the shelter of the land, the water was smooth as that of a pond,
so really I had a very good firing platform. Moreover, weary though I
was, my vital forces rose to the emergency and I felt myself grow rigid
as a statue. Lastly, the light was good, for the sun rose behind me, its
level rays shining full on to my mark. I held my breath and touched the
trigger. The charge exploded sweetly and almost at the instant; as
the smoke drifted to one side, I saw Komba throw up his arms and fall
backwards into the canoe. Then, quite a long while afterwards, or so it
seemed, the breeze brought the faint sound of the thud of that fateful
bullet to our ears.

Though perhaps I ought not to say so, it was really a wonderful shot
in all the circumstances