head, and quickly knew that it was no dream, for my neck and face were
so stiff from the blow of the butt-end of the rifle that it was agony
to move them. I collapsed for a minute or two. Gobo and another man,
wrapped up like a couple of monks in their blankets, thinking that I was
still asleep, were crouched over a little fire they had made, for the
morning was damp and chilly, and holding sweet converse.

"Gobo said that he was getting tired of running after elephants which
they never caught. Macumazahn (that is, myself) was without doubt a man
of parts, and of some skill in shooting, but also he was a fool. None
but a fool would run so fast and far after elephants which it was
impossible to catch, when they kept cutting the spoor of fresh ones.
He certainly was a fool, but he must not be allowed to continue in
his folly; and he, Gobo, had determined to put a stop to it. He should
refuse to accompany him any further on so mad a hunt.

"'Yes,' the other answered, 'the poor man certainly was sick in his
head, and it was quite time that they checked his folly while they still
had a patch of skin left upon their feet. Moreover, he for his part
certainly did not like this country of Wambe's, which really was full of
ghosts. Only the last night he had heard the spooks at work--they were
out shooting, at least it sounded as though they were. It was very
queer, but perhaps their lunatic of a master----'

"'Gobo, you scoundrel!' I shouted out at this juncture, sitting bolt
upright on the blankets, 'stop idling there and make me some coffee.'

"Up sprang Gobo and his friend, and in half a moment were respectfully
skipping about in a manner that contrasted well with the lordly contempt
of their previous conversation. But all the time they were in earnest in