the best and ragged from hard usage. The whole outfit would
have been dear at five shillings, or seven-and-six with the belt

thrown in. Then there was the Portugoose's pistol, costing,
say, a guinea; and last, the Prester's collar, worth

several millions.
What was more important than my clothing was my bodily

strength. I was still very sore from the bonds and the jog of
that accursed horse, but exercise was rapidly suppling my

joints. About five hours ago I had eaten a filling, though not
very sustaining, meal, and I thought I could go on very well

till morning. But I was still badly in arrears with my sleep,
and there was no chance of my snatching a minute till I was

over the Berg. It was going to be a race against time, and I
swore that I would drive my body to the last ounce of strength.

Moonrise was still an hour or two away, and the sky was
bright with myriad stars. I knew now what starlight meant, for

there was ample light to pick my way by. I steered by the
Southern Cross, for I was aware that the Berg ran north and

south, and with that constellation on my left hand I was bound
to reach it sooner or later. The bush closed around me with its

mysterious dull green shades, and trees, which in the daytime
were thin scrub, now loomed like tall timber. It was very eerie

moving, a tiny fragment of mortality, in that great wide silent
wilderness, with the starry vault, like an impassive celestial

audience, watching with many eyes. They cheered me, those
stars. In my hurry and fear and passion they spoke of the old

calm dignities of man. I felt less alone when I turned my face
to the lights which were slanting alike on this uncanny bush

and on the homely streets of Kirkcaple.
The silence did not last long. First came the howl of a wolf,

to be answered by others from every quarter of the compass.
This serenade went on for a bit, till the jackals chimed in with

their harsh bark. I had been caught by darkness before this
when hunting on the Berg, but I was not afraid of wild beasts.

That is one terror of the bush which travellers' tales have put
too high. It was true that I might meet a hungry lion, but the

chance was remote, and I had my pistol. Once indeed a huge
animal bounded across the road a little in front of me. For a

moment I took him for a lion, but on reflection I was inclined
to think him a very large bush-pig.

By this time I was out of the thickest bush and into a piece
of parkland with long, waving tambuki grass, which the

Kaffirs would burn later. The moon was coming up, and her
faint rays silvered the flat tops of the mimosa trees. I could

hear and feel around me the rustling of animals. Once or twice
a big buck - an eland or a koodoo - broke cover, and at the

sight of me went off snorting down the slope. Also there were
droves of smaller game - rhebok and springbok and duikers -

which brushed past at full gallop without even noticing me.
The sight was so novel that it set me thinking. That shy

wild things should stampede like this could only mean that
they had been thoroughly scared. Now obviously the thing

that scared them must be on this side of the Letaba. This must
mean that Laputa's army, or a large part of it, had not crossed

at Dupree's Drift, but had gone up the stream to some higher
ford. If that was so, I must alter my course; so I bore away to

the right for a mile or two, making a line due north-west.
In about an hour's time the ground descended steeply, and

I saw before me the shining reaches of a river. I had the chief
features of the countryside clear in my mind, both from old

porings over maps, and from Arcoll's instructions. This stream
must be the Little Letaba, and I must cross it if I would get to

the mountains. I remembered that Majinje's kraal stood on its
left bank, and higher up in its valley in the Berg 'Mpefu lived.

At all costs the kraals must be avoided. Once across it I must
make for the Letsitela, another tributary of the Great Letaba,

and by keeping the far bank of that stream I should cross the
mountains to the place on the plateau of the Wood Bush which

Arcoll had told me would be his headquarters.
It is easy to talk about crossing a river, and looking to-day at

the slenderstreak on the map I am amazed that so small a
thing should have given me such ugly tremors. Yet I have

rarely faced a job I liked so little. The stream ran yellow and
sluggish under the clear moon. On the near side a thick growth

of bush clothed the bank, but on the far side I made out a
swamp with tall bulrushes. The distance across was no more

than fifty yards, but I would have swum a mile more readily in
deep water. The place stank of crocodiles. There was no ripple

to break the oily flow except where a derelict branch swayed
with the current. Something in the stillness, the eerie light on

the water, and the rotting smell of the swamp made that stream
seem unhallowed and deadly.

I sat down and considered the matter. Crocodiles had always
terrified me more than any created thing, and to be dragged by

iron jaws to death in that hideousstream seemed to me the
most awful of endings. Yet cross it I must if I were to get rid

of my human enemies. I remembered a story of an escaped
prisoner during the war who had only the Komati River

between him and safety. But he dared not enter it, and was
recaptured by a Boer commando. I was determined that

such cowardice should not be laid to my charge. If I was to
die, I would at least have given myself every chance of life.

So I braced myself as best I could, and looked for a place
to enter.

The veld-craft I had mastered had taught me a few things.
One was that wild animals drink at night, and that they have

regular drinking places. I thought that the likeliest place for
crocodiles was at or around such spots, and, therefore, I

resolved to take the water away from a drinking place. I went
up the bank, noting where the narrow bush-paths emerged on

the water-side. I scared away several little buck, and once the
violent commotion in the bush showed that I had frightened

some bigger animal, perhaps a hartebeest. Still following the
bank I came to a reach where the undergrowth was unbroken

and the water looked deeper.
Suddenly - I fear I must use this adverb often, for all the

happenings on that night were sudden - I saw a biggish animal
break through the reeds on the far side. It entered the water

and, whether wading or swimming I could not see, came out a
little distance. Then some sense must have told it of my

presence, for it turned and with a grunt made its way back.
I saw that it was a big wart-hog, and began to think. Pig,

unlike other beasts, drink not at night, but in the daytime.
The hog had, therefore, not come to drink, but to swim across.

Now, I argued, he would choose a safe place, for the wart-hog,
hideous though he is, is a wise beast. What was safe for him

would, therefore, in all likelihood be safe for me.
With this hope to comfort me I prepared to enter. My first

care was the jewels, so, feeling them precarious in my shirt, I
twined the collar round my neck and clasped it. The snake-

clasp was no flimsy device of modern jewellery, and I had no
fear but that it would hold. I held the pistol between my teeth,

and with a prayer to God slipped into the muddy waters.
I swam in the wild way of a beginner who fears cramp. The

current was light and the water moderately warm, but I seemed