n the clouds. There ahead of us,
stark naked, and running swiftly towards the baboons, we saw the figure
of Hector, his body gleaming white in the moonbeams, and by his side
the grey figure of his baboon companion.

"We shouted, as over rocks and through scrub and thorns we ran and
scrambled, gaining upon the fugitive. When he was but fifty yards
ahead, he paused and turned, and the moonlight gleamed upon his gilded
teeth as he laughed at us in maniac mockery. Then, even as we sprang
towards him, a grey circle surged round him, and together they came
towards us. For a time we were hard set to beat them off. When our
Winchesters were empty a ring of dead lay around us, and then the moon
was blotted out and dense darkness fell as the thunderstorm burst over
us. Between the peals of thunder we could hear the hoarse barks of the
main troop getting farther and farther away, but to follow was
impossible. We expected to find the mangled body of Hector in the
morning. Daylight showed no trace of him, however, and though we spent
months searching the locality we never saw him again."

Jason stopped, and knocked his pipe out on his boot. I thought his tale
was finished. "Horrible! horrible!" I said. "Little wonder you hate
baboons! What became of his brother?"

"Wait!" said Jason, "that is only the first chapter of my story. John
went back to England a morose, sad man. The incident had deeply
affected me also, and we had become the closest of friends. Old Klaas
came to Cape Town with us, and as we saw John waving to us from the
fast receding mailboat the Hottentot said something I never forgot.
'Master,' he said, 'his brother I do not think he is dead! Something
worse has happened to him: Klaas believes he is there in that strange
place the Hottentots have all heard of there in the Tatas Berg, in the
baboons' secret place.'

"Well, ten more, fifteen years passed, and I often heard from John. He
had thrown up sport, and strangely enough had devoted himself entirely
to the same scientific research that had been his brother's bane. Then
his letters became fewer and fewer, and I heard nothing for many months
when one day he walked into my room in Cape Town. He had just arrived
from England, and after our first warm greeting he asked me eagerly if
I were free to accompany him again to the scene of our awful
experience. I was free enough, but reluctant. Why revive the horrors of
that awful night! But he persuaded me, and a month la