tter from travelling up-stream against it; and within the
next twenty-four hours I was able to estimate that we were now
proceeding about three times as rapidly as was the case when I was
making the upward journey. I calculated, therefore, that a full week
ought to suffice us to reach the sea. And then what was to become of
poor Ama, my gentle and loving companion? Alas, destiny was soon to
answer that question, and most tragically, too, had we but known it.

Thanks to Ama's foresight and admirable judgment, our progress down the
river was uneventful. We travelled during the night, resting and
refreshing ourselves during the day, and never again saw a sign of our
pursuers, nor indeed of anybody else, for our journey was begun when the
moon was past her third quarter, and rose late; and Ama explained that
the natives of that region never travelled through the darkness, if they
could possibly avoid it.

It was on the sixth day of our journey that, having landed as usual at
the first sign of dawn, we were resting in a secluded and shady spot
after having partaken of an excellent and substantial breakfast. I had
been sound asleep for some hours, for the sun was well past the
meridian, when I was startled into sudden and complete wakefulness, and
sprang up with the sensation that I had heard Ama screaming and calling
upon me for help.

I glanced at the spot where she had lain, a short distance from me. She
was not there; and I at once concluded that, having awakened before me,
she had gone off into the forest to obtain the wherewithal for our mid-
day meal. I listened intently, but the silence of noontide had fallen,
and everything was deathly still; there was not the faintest zephyr to
stir the foliage; and even the very insects that so persistently attack
one in the African jungle seemed to be indulging in a mid-day siesta.
Yet I could not divest my mind of the conviction that my abrupt
awakening had been caused by a cry for help from Ama having reached my
ears; and, seizing my weapons, I set out in search of her. The "form"
in the grass where she had lain was plain enough to the sight, as also
were her tracks in the direction of the forest, and these I followed for
some distance without much difficulty, coming out at length into an open
glade, through which a tiny streamlet made its way. And here, among an
outcrop of immense granite rocks, I came upon the signs of a tragedy.
The long grass was disturbed and bea