Thus many, many times I have back-tracked in the dark over ground I had
traversed but once before, and have caught myself turning out for bushes
or trees I could not see, but which my subconscious memory recalled.
This would happen only when I would think of something besides the way
home. As soon as I took charge, I groped as badly as the next man. It is
a curious and sometimes valuable extra, but by no means to be depended
upon.

Now, however, as I was following Kongoni, this faculty had full play,
and it assured me vehemently that we were wrong. I called C. up from the
rear for consultation. Kongoni was very positive he was right; but as we
had now been walking over an hour, and camp should not have been more
than three miles from where we had killed the roan, we were inclined
towards my instinct. So we took the compass direction, in order to
assure consistency at least, and struck off at full right angles to the
left.

So we tramped for a long time. Every few moments Kongoni would want
another look at that compass. It happened that we were now going due
north, and his notion was that the needle pointed the way to camp. We
profoundly hoped that his faith in white man's magic would not be
shattered. At the end of an hour the rain let up, and it cleared
sufficiently to disclose some of the mountain outlines. They convinced
us that we were in the main right; though just where, to the north, camp
now lay was beyond our power to determine. Kongoni's detour had been
rather indeterminate in direction and distance.

The country now became very rough, in a small way. The feeble light of
our leading lantern revealed only ghosts and phantoms and looming,
warning suggestions of things which the shadows confused and shifted.