at her feet, she preferred to remain in a cave amongst a society
of cannibals? This surely settled the question. The whole story was
monstrous, and only worthy of the superstitious days in which it was
written. At any rate I was very sure that _I_ would not attempt to
attain unending life. I had had far too many worries and disappointments
and secret bitternesses during my forty odd years of existence to wish
that this state of affairs should be continued indefinitely. And yet I
suppose that my life has been, comparatively speaking, a happy one.

And then, reflecting that at the present moment there was far more
likelihood of our earthly careers being cut exceedingly short than of
their being unduly prolonged, I at last managed to get to sleep, a fact
for which anybody who reads this narrative, if anybody ever does, may
very probably be thankful.

When I woke again it was just dawning, and the guard and bearers were
moving about like ghosts through the dense morning mists, getting ready
for our start. The fire had died quite down, and I rose and stretched
myself, shivering in every limb from the damp cold of the dawn. Then I
looked at Leo. He was sitting up, holding his hands to his head, and I
saw that his face was flushed and his eye bright, and yet yellow round
the pupil.

"Well, Leo," I said, "how do you feel?"

"I feel as though I were going to die," he answered hoarsely. "My head
is splitting, my body is trembling, and I am as sick as a cat."

I whistled, or if I did not whistle I felt inclined to--Leo had got a
sharp attack of fever. I went to Job, and asked him for the quinine,