of the man he had so causelessly shot down.

In despair, he turned and fled from the oncoming soldiery. Across
the compound he ran, his revolver still clutched tightly in his
hand. At the gates a sentry halted him. Werper did not pause to
parley or to exert the influence of his commission--he merely raised
his weapon and shot down the innocent black. A moment later the
fugitive had torn open the gates and vanished into the blackness
of the jungle, but not before he had transferred the rifle and
ammunition belts of the dead sentry to his own person.

All that night Werper fled farther and farther into the heart of
the wilderness. Now and again the voice of a lion brought him to
a listening halt; but with cocked and ready rifle he pushed ahead
again, more fearful of the human huntsmen in his rear than of the
wild carnivora ahead.

Dawn came at last, but still the man plodded on. All sense of hunger
and fatigue were lost in the terrors of contemplated capture. He
could think only of escape. He dared not pause to rest or eat until
there was no further danger from pursuit, and so he staggered on
until at last he fell and could rise no more. How long he had fled
he did not know, or try to know. When he could flee no longer the
knowledge that he had reached his limit was hidden from him in the
unconsciousness of utter exhaustion.

And thus it was that Achmet Zek, the Arab, found him. Achmet's
followers were for running a spear through the body of their
hereditary enemy; but Achmet would have it otherwise. First he
would question the Belgian. It were easier to question a man first