the tall form of the girl Ustane, who was washing a deep spear wound
in his side with cold water preparatory to binding it up with linen.
Leaning against the wall of the cave behind her was Job, apparently
uninjured, but bruised and trembling. On the other side of the fire,
tossed about this way and that, as though they had thrown themselves
down to sleep in some moment of absolute exhaustion, were the bodies of
those whom we had killed in our frightful struggle for life. I counted
them: there were twelve besides the woman, and the corpse of poor
Mahomed, who had died by my hand, which, the fire-stained pot at its
side, was placed at the end of the irregular line. To the left a body of
men were engaged in binding the arms of the survivors of the cannibals
behind them, and then fastening them two and two. The villains were
submitting with a look of sulky indifference upon their faces which
accorded ill with the baffled fury that gleamed in their sombre eyes.
In front of these men, directing the operations, stood no other than our
friend Billali, looking rather tired, but particularly patriarchal
with his flowing beard, and as cool and unconcerned as though he were
superintending the cutting up of an ox.

Presently he turned, and perceiving that I was sitting up advanced
to me, and with the utmost courtesy said that he trusted that I felt
better. I answered that at present I scarcely knew how I felt, except
that I ached all over.

Then he bent down and examined Leo's wound.

"It is an evil cut," he said, "but the spear has not pierced the
entrails. He will recover."

"Thanks to thy arrival, my father," I answered. "In another minute we