Pausing beside the man, the ape bent over and examined his belongings.
Great as was the strength of Chulk there lay in the back of his
little brain a something which deterred him from arousing the man
to combat--a sense that is inherent in all the lower orders, a
strange fear of man, that rules even the most powerful of the jungle
creatures at times.

To remove Mugambi's loin cloth without awakening him would be
impossible, and the only detachable things were the knob-stick and
the pouch, which had fallen from the black's shoulder as he rolled
in sleep.

Seizing these two articles, as better than nothing at all, Chulk
retreated with haste, and every indication of nervous terror, to
the safety of the tree from which he had dropped, and, still haunted
by that indefinable terror which the close proximity of man awakened
in his breast, fled precipitately through the jungle. Aroused by
attack, or supported by the presence of another of his kind, Chulk
could have braved the presence of a score of human beings, but
alone--ah, that was a different matter--alone, and unenraged.

It was some time after Mugambi awoke that he missed the pouch.
Instantly he was all excitement. What could have become of it?
It had been at his side when he lay down to sleep--of that he was
certain, for had he not pushed it from beneath him when its bulging
bulk, pressing against his ribs, caused him discomfort? Yes, it
had been there when he lay down to sleep. How then had it vanished?

Mugambi's savage imagination was filled with visions of the spirits
of departed friends and enemies, for only to the machinations of