the efforts of my men and the morsel of
food they could spare him brought him back to life. When I had poured a
few drops of brandy down his throat and had made him a broth and warmed
him up his strength began to come back. It is astonishing what a few
ounces of food will do for a starving man.

"He told me he had been deserted by his carriers, who had robbed him of
all he had--food, ammunition, everything--and since then he had wandered
aimlessly about, living on bitter berries and fungi. He had, it appears,
been sent to Zanzibar by his government to straighten out some matters
connected with one of the missions, and, wishing to see something of
the country, he had pushed on, relying on his former experiences--he had
been on similar excursions in Brazil--to pull him through.

"Then followed the story of the last few weeks--the terrors of the long
nights, as he listened to the cries of prowling animals; his hunger and
increasing weakness--the counting of the days and hours he could live;
the indescribable fright that overpowered him when he realized he must
die, alone, and away from his people. Raising himself on his elbow--he
was still too weak to stand on his feet--he motioned to me to come
nearer, and, as I bent my head he said in a hoarse whisper, as if he
were in the presence of some mighty spirit who would overhear:--

"'In these awful weeks I have faced the primeval. God stripped me
naked--naked as Adam, and like him, left me alone. In my hunger I cried
out; in my weakness I prayed. No answer--nothing but silence--horrible,
overpowering silence. Then in my despair I began to curse--to strike
the trees with my clenched fists, only to sink down exhausted. I could
not--I would not die! Soon all my life passed in review. All the mean
things I had done to others; all the mean things they had done to me.
Then love, honor, hatred, revenge, official promotion, money, the
good opinion of my fellows--all the things we value and that make our
standards--took form, one after another, and as quickly vanished in the
gloom of the jungle. Of what use were they--any of them? If I was to
live I must again become the Homo--the Primeval Man--eat as he ate,
sleep as he slept, be simple, brave, forgiving, obedient, as he had
been. All I had brought with me of civilization--my civilization--the
one we men make and call life--were as nothing, if it could not bring me
a cup of water, a handful of corn or a coal of fire to warm my shive