rother John, whose shoulder was dreadfully sore from the rubbing of
the orchid stretcher, as were his hands with paddling, but who otherwise
was well enough and of course supremely happy.

He told me that he had cleansed and sewn up Stephen's wound, which
appeared to be doing well, although the spear had pierced right through
the shoulder, luckily without cutting any artery. So I went in to see
the patient and found him cheerful enough, though weak from weariness
and loss of blood, with Miss Hope feeding him with broth from a wooden
native spoon. I didn't stop very long, especially after he got on to
the subject of the lost orchid, about which he began to show signs of
excitement. This I allayed as well as I could by telling him that I had
preserved a pod of the seed, news at which he was delighted.

"There!" he said. "To think that you, Allan, should have remembered to
take that precaution when I, an orchidist, forgot all about it!"

"Ah! my boy," I answered, "I have lived long enough to learn never to
leave anything behind that I can possibly carry away. Also, although not
an orchidist, it occurred to me that there are more ways of propagating
a plant than from the original root, which generally won't go into one's
pocket."

Then he began to give me elaborate instructions as to the preservation
of the seed-pod in a perfectly dry and air-tight tin box, etc., at which
point Miss Hope unceremoniously bundled me out of the tent.

That afternoon we held a conference at which it was agreed that we
should begin our return journey to Beza Town at once, as the place where
we were camped was very malarious and there was always a risk of the
Pongo paying us another visit.

So a litter was made with a mat stretched over it in which Stephen could
be carried, since fortunately there were plenty of bearers, and our
other simple preparations were quickly completed. Mrs. Eversley and Hope
were mounted on the two donkeys; Brother John, whose hurt leg showed
signs of renewed weakness, rode his white ox, which was now quite fat
again; the wounded hero, Stephen, as I have said, was carried; and I
walked, comparing notes with old Babemba on the Pongo, their manners,
which I am bound to say were good, and their customs, that, as the
saying goes, were "simply beastly."

How delighted that ancient warrior was to hear again about the sacred
cave, the Crocodile Water, the Mountain Forest and its terrible god,
of the death of which and of