to reload it, was a mere
theatrical performance. Next second there was such a mix-up that
for a while I could not distinguish which was Anscombe, which was
the wildebeeste, and which the horse. They all seemed to be
going round and round in a cloud of dust. When things settled
themselves a little I discovered the horse rolling on the ground,
Anscombe on his back with his hands up in an attitude of prayer
and the wildebeeste trying to make up its mind which of them it
should finish first. I settled the poor thing's doubts by
shooting it through the heart, which I flatter myself was rather
clever of me under the circumstances. Then I dismounted to
examine Anscombe, who, I presumed, was done for. Not a bit of
it. There he sat upon the ground blowing like a blacksmith's
bellows and panting out--

"What a glorious gallop. I finished it very well, didn't I? You
couldn't have made a better shot yourself."

"Yes," I answered, "you finished it very well as you will find
out if you will take the trouble to open your rifle and count
your cartridges. I may add that if we are going to hunt together
I hope you will never lead me such a fool's chase again."

He rose, opened the rifle and saw that it was empty, for although
he had never re-loaded he had thrown out the two cartridges which
he had discharged in the glen.

"By Jingo," he said, "you must have shot it, though I could have
sworn that it was I. Quatermain, has it ever struck you what a
strange thing is the human imagination?"

"Drat the human imagination," I answered, wiping away the blood
that was trickling into my eye from a thorn scratch. "Let's look
at your horse. If it is lamed you will have to ride Imagination
back to the wagon which must be six miles away, that is if we can
find it before dark."

Sighing out something about a painfully practical mind, he
obeyed, and when the beast was proved to be nothing more than
blown and a little bruised, made remarks as to the inadvisability
of dwelling on future evil events, which I reminded him had
already been better summed up in the New Testament.

After this we contemplated the carcasse of the wildebeeste which
it seemed a pity to leave to rot. Just then Anscombe, who had
moved a few yards to the right out of the shadow of an
obstructing tree, exclaimed--

"I say, Quatermain, come here and tell me if I have been knocked
silly, or if I really see a quite uncommon kind of house built in
ancient Greek