head, where I had heard but just now the cock crowing. Two huts I
could see to be empty. It did not lead to either of these. It led
straight to the other wherein the embers of a fire shone red.
There was no lion within. I looked for the spoor of the lion's
exit. There was none.

The retainer who had had his head broken by Carrot lay curled in
his blanket by the fire. He was sleeping an exhausted man's
sleep. It was hard work waking him. At last he sat up, a squat
patriarch with grizzled bushy beard and shrewd watchful eyes. He
was huddled in a queer parti-colored blanket purple and brown and
orange and grey. I tried to testify to him with zeal against
blackness of witchcraft. I told him with zest of the Light. He
looked blank enough. Afterwards I spoke of Carrot's escape. His
eyes underwent a change as I watched. The Light which lighteth
every man that cometh into the world, showed in them, as it
seemed to me. He was genuinely glad that his baas was out of the
wood. So clear an affection for the man whose mark he was wearing
touched me. I half emptied my tobacco bag into his hand ere I
said Good-bye in the roaring south-easter, under the saffron
streamered dawn.

I surmised that Carrot owed his escape largely to a real hero
ready to face fire at need, whom we white men had not recognized.

A new feeling of pity for Trooper No. 2 took me. Haply he had
miscalculated things as he pursued his unsanctified way. Haply he
a modern, had been handicapped from his lack of equipment, lack
of such discarded kit as I had dreamed about. Quite conceivably
he had wrestled last night, not only against flesh and blood, but
against principalities and powers unknown.

AS TREES WALKING

It was in the spring of last year that I started for a holiday
journey towards some ruins about a hundred miles away. I had
suffered much in the cold weather from fever and broken rest, so
I longed to renew my strength before the heats of summer should
be fully come.

I started on a bright and calm September morning by the main
southward track, hoping to reach a friend's Mission Station on
the eve of the third day.

I reached it then, but I had provoked my enemies by walking in
the chilly hours, and walking to weariness. I was feverish and
spent ere I reached Greenwood's Mission House.

It stood under a towering granite kopje some ten miles only from
the ruins. I had never entered it before. When I last visited
Greenwood, quite two yea