ne but follow. As well take Berselius's road
as any other. Sunset would tell them whether they were facing the sunset;
but he wished that Berselius would cease.

The situation was bad enough to bear without those triumphant calls.

It was past noon now; the light wind that had been blowing in their faces
had died away; there was the faintest stirring of the air, and on this,
suddenly, to Adams's nostrils came stealing a smell of corruption, such as
he had never experienced before.

It grew stronger as they went.

There was a slight rise in the ground before them just here, and as they
took it the stench became almost insupportable, and Adams was turning
aside to spit when a cry from Berselius, who was a few yards in advance,
brought him forward to his side.

The rise in the ground had hidden from them a dried-up river-bed, and
there before them in the sandy trough, huge amidst the boulders, lay the
body of an elephant.

A crowd of birds busy about the carcass rose clamouring in the air and
flew away.

"Do you remember?" cried Berselius.

"Good God!" said Adams. "Do I remember!"

It was the body of the great beast they had passed when in pursuit of the
herd.

Yes, there was no doubt now that Berselius was guiding them aright. He had
followed the track they had come by without deviating a hundred yards.

The great animal was lying just as they had left it, but the work of the
birds was evident; horribly so, and it was not a sight to linger over.

They descended into the river bed, passed up the other bank, and went on,
Berselius leading and Adams walking by his side.

"Do you know," said Adams, "I was beginning to think you were out of the
track."

Berselius smiled.

Adams, who was glancing at his face, thought that he had never seen an
expression like that on the man's face before. The smile of the lips that
had marked and marred his countenance through life, the smile that was
half a sneer, was not there; this came about the eyes.

"He was in exactly the same position, too," said Adams. "But the birds
will have him down before long. Well, he has served one purpose in his
life; he has shown us we are on the right road, and he has given you back
another bit of memory."

"Poor brute," said Berselius.

These words, coming from the once iron-hearted Berselius, struck Adams
strangely; there was a trace of pity in their tone.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE FADING MIST

They camped two hours before sundo