by, master."

And Squat strutted away, with the halter in his hand, horse following
him, rifle under his arm, and the lion's skin over his shoulders, and
the tail trailing, a figure sublime in his own eyes, ridiculous in
creation's. So vanity triumphed, even in the wilds of Africa.

Staines hurried forward on foot, loading his revolver as he went, for
the very vicinity of the wood alarmed him now that he had parted with
his trusty rifle.

That night he lay down on the open veldt, in his jackal's skin, with
no weapon but his revolver, and woke with a start a dozen times. Just
before daybreak he scanned the stars carefully, and noting exactly where
the sun rose, made a rough guess at his course, and followed it till the
sun was too hot; then he crept under a ragged bush, hung up his jackal's
skin, and sweated there, parched with thirst, and gnawed with hunger.
When it was cooler, he crept on, and found water, but no food. He was in
torture, and began to be frightened, for he was in a desert. He found an
ostrich egg and ate it ravenously.

Next day, hunger took a new form, faintness. He could not walk for it;
his jackal's skin oppressed him; he lay down exhausted. A horror seized
his dejected soul. The diamond! It would be his death. No man must so
long for any earthly thing as he had for this glittering traitor. "Oh!
my good horse! my trusty rifle!" he cried. "For what have I thrown you
away? For starvation. Misers have been found stretched over their gold;
and some day my skeleton will be found, and nothing to tell the base
death I died of and deserved; nothing but the cursed diamond. Ay, fiend,
glare in my eyes, do!" He felt delirium creeping over him; and at that a
new terror froze him. His reason, that he had lost once, was he to lose
it again? He prayed; he wept; he dozed, and forgot all. When he woke
again, a cool air was fanning his cheeks; it revived him a little; it
became almost a breeze.

And this breeze, as it happened, carried on its wings the curse of
Africa. There loomed in the north-west a cloud of singular density, that
seemed to expand in size as it drew nearer, yet to be still more
solid, and darken the air. It seemed a dust-storm. Staines took out his
handkerchief, prepared to wrap his face in it, not to be stifled.

But soon there was a whirring and a whizzing, and hundreds of locusts
flew over his head; they were followed by thousands, the swiftest of the
mighty host. They thickened and thicken