e as the first of the natives appeared, "I hit
mine badly, and he can't be far away."

Mvita came up on the run as they started, and all broke into the jungle
on the trail of the wounded elephant, John carrying the spare guns. Only
a hundred yards away they came upon their quarry. The elephant, mortally
wounded, was standing beneath a large tree, half-hidden among the
foliage. They could see him swaying from side to side, and just as Mr.
Wallace was circling around for a finishing shot the huge bulk crashed
down and lay still.

"Ain't it pretty near time to eat?" inquired Critch, after they had
inspected the body.

"Just about," answered Mr. Wallace. "Where will we make camp, John?"

"By de river, sar," was the reply, and John was busied at once with
orders to Mvita and the natives, who had brought along a chop-box. The
three elephants killed were all bulls, that of Mr. Wallace having only
one tusk. While the ivory was being cut out and the bodies being
dissected by the natives, who would make a grand feast that night, the
three whites returned to the small stream which had been crossed half an
hour before.

John had found a small spring of clear, sweet water near some high
ground on the west bank. Opposite, there was a long stretch of marshy,
low ground that gave upon the jungle proper. On their camping side,
however, this fever-threatening swamp was entirely absent.

Before an hour had passed the three were sitting around their folding
canvas table, doing full honor to the forest delicacies furnished by
John and his assistants. More of the villagers trooped up to share in
the elephant meat, until it seemed to the boys that the entire village
was present. Suddenly Burt, who was sitting facing the stream, gave a
startled exclamation and pointed to the low ground opposite.

"What's that, Uncle George?"

Turning in their seats, the others saw the top of the high marsh-grass
waving as if some creature were forcing its way along. John, who had
over-heard the question, brought up the rifles at once but Mr. Wallace
waved him back and took out his glasses.

"I don't know, Burt. Doesn't show up yet. It'd hardly be any animal, for
we are up-wind and he would scent us. It might be a crocodile, although
in that case he would not make so much commotion. What do you think,
John?"

The gigantic negro took the glasses and gazed long and earnestly at the
faint movement in the grass, which seemed to be coming toward the rive