f and we will both hope for
the best. I will help you all I can if you will tell me what I may
do."

"The first thing," he replied, "is to find out just how serious
our damage is, and then to see what we can do in the way of repairs."

For two days Smith-Oldwick worked upon the damaged plane--worked
in the face of the fact that from the first he realized the case
was hopeless. And at last he told her.

"I knew it," she said, "but I believe that I felt much as you must
have; that however futile our efforts here might be, it would be
infinitely as fatal to attempt to retrace our way to the jungle we
just left or to go on toward the coast. You know and I know that we
could not reach the Tanga railway on foot. We should die of thirst
and starvation before we had covered half the distance, and if we
return to the jungle, even were we able to reach it, it would be
but to court an equally certain, though different, fate."

"So we might as well sit here and wait for death as to uselessly
waste our energies in what we know would be a futile attempt at
escape?" he asked.

"No," she replied, "I shall never give up like that. What I meant
was that it was useless to attempt to reach either of the places
where we know that there is food and water in abundance, so we
must strike out in a new direction. Somewhere there may be water
in this wilderness and if there is, the best chance of our finding
it would be to follow this gorge downward. We have enough food and
water left, if we are careful of it, for a couple of days and in
that time we might stumble upon a spring or possibly even reach
the fertile country which I know lies to the south. When Usanga
brought me to the Wamabo country from the coast he took a southerly
route along which there was usually water and game in plenty. It
was not until we neared our destination that the country became
overrun with carnivores. So there is hope if we can reach the
fertile country south of us that we can manage to pull through to
the coast."

The man shook his head dubiously. "We can try it," he said.
"Personally, I do not fancy sitting here waiting for death."

Smith-Oldwick was leaning against the ship, his dejected gaze
directed upon the ground at his feet. The girl was looking south
down the gorge in the direction of their one slender chance of
life. Suddenly she touched him on the arm.

"Look," she whispered.

The man raised his eyes quickly in the direction of her gaze to
s