les showed white and leprous-looking in the bright morning sunshine.

But Adams had no time to attend to them. Having glanced in their
direction, he turned to Berselius, bent over him, and started back in
surprise.

Berselius's eyes were open; he was breathing regularly and slowly, and he
looked like a man who, just awakened from sleep, was yet too lazy to
move.

Adams touched him upon the shoulder, and Berselius, raising his right
hand, drew it over his face as if to chase away sleep. Then his head
dropped, and he lay looking up at the sky. Then he yawned twice, deeply,
and turning his head on his left shoulder looked about him lazily, his
eyes resting here and there: on the two porters who were sitting, with
knees drawn up, eating some food which Felix had given them; on the broken
camp furniture and the heaps of raffle left by the catastrophe of the
night before; on the skyline where the grass waved against the morning
blue.

Adams heaved a sigh of relief. The man had only been stunned. None of the
vital centres of the brain had been injured. Some injury there must be,
but the main springs of life were intact. There was no paralysis, for now
the sick man was raising his left hand, and, moving about as a person
moves in bed to get a more comfortable position, he raised both knees and
then, turning over on his right side, straightened them out again. Now, by
the movements of a sick person you can tell pretty nearly the condition of
his brain.

All the movements of this sick man were normal; they indicated great
tiredness, nothing more. The shock and the loss of blood might account for
that. Adams the night before had made a pillow from his own coat for the
stricken one's head; he was bending now to rearrange it, but he desisted.
Berselius was asleep.

Adams remained on his knees for a moment contemplating his patient with
deep satisfaction. Then he rose to his feet. Some shelter must be
improvised to protect the sleeping man from the sun, but in the raffle
around there did not seem enough tent cloth to make even an umbrella.

Calling Felix and the two porters to follow him, he started off, searching
amidst the _debris_ here and there, setting the porters to work to collect
the remains of the stores and to bring them back to the tree, hunting in
vain for what he wanted, till Felix, just as they reached the northern
limit of destruction, pointed to where the birds were still busy,
clamorous and gorging.

"What