away into the depth of the forest. I watched his retreating figure as far as the eye could follow it in that light, and laughing at his panic, went over to where my ass was tied, intending to stroll down for a shot at the panther. And while I was idly getting ready, the sound of excited conversation among my men attracted me, and I asked them what was the matter. There was a laugh, and then one of them, the most sensible, English-minded African I ever met, stepped forward.
“We do not know, master,” said he, “which of us it was that ran away just now. We are all here.”
The full significance of his words did not strike me at first, and I laughed too. “Oh, count yourselves,” I said, “and you will soon find out.”
“But we have counted, master,” replied the man, “and all eighteen are here.”
His meaning began to dawn on me. I felt a queer feeling creep over me.
“All here!” I ejaculated. “Muster the men.”
And mustered they were — and to my astonishment, and even horror, I found the man was speaking the truth. Every man of my force was in his place.
Then who was the man that had run away, when all the party started up from their sleep? A ghost? I looked round into the deepening gloom. All my men were standing together, looking rather frightened. Around us stretched the eternal forest. A ghost! And then on a sudden the thought flashed across me — I had seen the Soko.
I had seen the Soko! and seeing it had mistaken it for a human being! And while I was still loading my cartridge-belt, Shumari, my gun-boy, had crept up to my side, with my express in one hand and heavy ele-
