you the events of that fearful morning. Picture if you can the silent trails of the jungle, dark as twilight, although it was early morning. Through the grim forest fifty natives push their way, loaded with supplies and the necessary camp implements. And among that motley throng only two white men, one lying in a hammock burning with fever, cursing and raving in a manner truly frightful. Sometimes he would break out into prayer or song, and sometimes he talked sadly of the girl he loved back home. Hardened explorer though I am, I more than once found a tear rising in my eyes as I listened to his ravings. By noon, the fever had gone down a trifle and he recovered consciousness. Almost the first thing he asked weakly was, 'Where are we going?' He drew his hand wearily across his eyes as he spoke as though to bring memory out into sharper detail. 'Back to Zanzibar,' said I. 'You are very sick and we must find a doctor.' At my words, Coningsby closed his eyes, and uttered a heart-rending groan. 'Jerry, old man,' he said, in a voice so low that I could scarcely hear the words, T never thought that you could fail in your duty.' That was all, for the next moment he had slipped back into delirium and was cursing me like a fiend. Standing down there in the forest, one lone white man by the side of my comrade, it seemed to me as though God had given him a moment's consciousness that he might remind me of Colonel Mowbray, our contract and you.
"I knew as I stood there that Coningsby would never return to you if he left this task unfinished.
