n, sir!" cried Buck scornfully. "He arn't a black; he's grey. Who
ever see a man like that?"

"Not I," said the doctor, laughing.

"There, Mr Mark," cried Buck triumphantly.

"But a man it is, Buck," said the doctor. "Poor old fellow! Doesn't
say much for the natives' civilisation, for there must have been some
living near. Crawled into that cave to die. Now, I should say he's one
of their old priests or medicine men, who, taking advantage of his great
age and supposed wisdom, has imposed upon his fellows till he got to be
looked upon as one who held intercourse with the unknown world, and
lived upon his reputation, till his fellows grew to look upon him and
talked about him as a spirit. That's why Mak objected to our exploring
this cave. Poor fellow, he meant well; and he made his objections no
doubt in our interest, for fear that we might come to harm."

"Why, a poor old scarecrow, sir!" said Buck. "He only wants one or two
old clothes put on him, and he'd make a fine tatter-dooley. Not much to
be afraid of in him! Well, gentlemen, we have got him."

"Yes, we have got him," said Mark; "but it seems to me that the question
is, what are we going to do with him now we have got him?"

"Yes," said the doctor; "that is a bit of a puzzle. We can't take him
into camp. What do you say, Dean?"

The boy wrinkled up his forehead as he gazed down at the curious,
weirdly thin object at their feet, who lay there looking like a
re-animated mummy, gazing feebly up at his captors, his dull eyes
gleaming faintly through the nearly closed lids as if suffering from the
broad light of day, before they were tightly shut, as the wretched
creature, who seemed hardly to exist, sank back into a stupor that
looked like the precursor of his final sleep.

"Well, Dean, what have you got to propose?" said Mark. "Nothing. But
if he's coming into camp along with us I am going to camp out."

"It's a rum 'un," grumbled Buck. "My word, he must be an old 'un!"

"Yes," said the doctor; "of a great age."

"And he is a man, sir?"

"Oh, yes, and he must have been a fine man in his time--six feet three
or four, I should say."

"Yes, sir," said Buck, "and that's the pity of it."

"What has his being six feet three or four got to do with it being a
pity?" said Mark sharply.

"I didn't mean that, sir," said Buck. "I meant it was a pity as he's a
man."

"Why?" asked the boys in a breath. "Because if he had been only a
beast, s