nd during all this time the native runner with the
message to Colonel Roosevelt was loafing the morning away in our camp.
What the message might be, of course, we didn't know, but we hoped that
it was nothing of importance. It was only when the colonel and his party
reached our camp that the message was delivered. As we stood talking and
congratulating everybody on how well he was looking the colonel casually
opened the message.

He seemed amused, and somewhat surprised, and at once read it aloud to
us. It was from America, and said: "Reported here you have been killed.
Mrs. Roosevelt worried. Cable denial American Embassy, Rome." It was
dated November sixth, eight days before.

"I think I might answer that by saying that the report is premature," he
said, laughing, and then told the story of a Texas man who had commented
on a similar report in the same words.

Colonel Roosevelt certainly didn't look dead. If ever a man looked
rugged and healthy and in splendid physical condition he certainly did
on the day that this despatch reached him. His cheeks were burned to a
ruddy tan and his eyes were as clear as a plainsman's. He laughed and
joked and commented on the news that we told him with all the enthusiasm
of one who knows no physical cares or worries.

[Drawing: _Reading the Report That He Had Been Killed_]

"If I could have seen you an hour and a half ago," he told Akeley, "I
could have got you the elephants you want for your group. We passed
within only a few yards of a herd of ten this morning, and Kermit got
within thirty yards to make some photographs." They had not shot any,
however, as they had received no answer to the letter sent several days
before to Mr. Akeley and consequently did not know positively that his
party had reached the plateau.

The colonel asked about George Ade, commented vigorously and with
prophetic insight on the Cook-Peary controversy, and read aloud, in
excellent dialect, a Dooley article on the subject, which I had saved
from an old copy of the Chicago _Tribune_. He commented very frankly,
with no semblance at hypocrisy, on Mr. Harriman's death, told many of
his experiences in the hunting field, and for three hours, at lunch and
afterward, he talked with the freedom of one who was glad to see some
American friends in the wilderness and who had no objection to showing
his pleasure at such a meeting.

He talked about the tariff and about many public men and public
questions with a