aved that day,
although Coutlass acted instantly and creditably, once awake.

Schillingschen stood there looking down on us, with his feet planted
squarely on the rim of the hollow, and Mauser rifle under one arm. His
great splay beard flowed sidewise in the evening wind. One hand he
held over his eyes, trying to make out details in the dark, as stupid
as we were. He stood with his back to the setting sun, exposing
himself without any thought of the risk he ran, his huge, filled-out
head refusing stubbornly to take in the truth of what had happened.
Once convinced, the Prussian mind is not readily unconvinced. He had
assured himself long ago that our party was at the bottom of Victoria
Nyanza.

The second he did make out details he was swift to act, but that was
already too late, although he did not know it at the moment. He threw
up his rifle and laughed--a great deep guffaw from the stomach, that
awoke every one.

"So, so!" he gloated. "So Mr. Oakes and his fellow escaped convicts
are alive after all! Ha-ha-ho-ho! So you followed me all this way,
only to forget that kites are curious! A fine comfortless journey you
must have had, too! There were twenty kites wheeling over you. I
counted, and wondered. Curiosity drove me to come and see. The first
man who moves a finger, Mr. Oakes, will die that instant! Let your
rifle lie where it is!"

It would be no use pretending the man had not courage, at all events of
the sort that glories in the upper hand of a fight. He chuckled, and
reveled in our predicament, taking in, now that his eyes had grown
accustomed to the darkness of our hollow, the utter lack of comforts or
provisions, and enjoying our disappointment. He certainly knew himself
master of the situation.

"I suspect you have a man of mine down there with you!" he announced
presently. "Is not that my Baganda? Is he gagged? Is he bound?
Loose him, Mr. Oakes, at once! I say at once! Otherwise you die now!"

He pointed his rifle directly at Fred, and the next second fired it,
but not intentionally. Coutlass sprang from behind him, having crawled
out through a shadow, and hit him so hard with a stone on the back of
the skull that he loosed off the rifle and pitched head-foremost down
among us. The Greek promptly jumped on top of him with a yell like a
maniac's, failing to land with both heels on his backbone by nothing
but luck. As it was, he lost balance and sat down so hard on
Schillingsc