closed around the butt of my automatic pistol.  The weapon came out of its holster unconsciously, but as I felt my finger rest in the curve of the trigger, I knew that some numbed and exhausted corner of my brain had prompted me to do this thing; indeed, as I weighed the matter with what coolness I could bring to bear, it did not seem particularly wicked.  With the pistol in my hand and with the safety released, I believed that the rest would have been easy and even pleasant.  What did I have in my favour?  What prospect did I have of escaping the jungle?  None whatever—­none!

There was no shadow of hope for me, and I had long ago given up believing in miracles.  For eight days I had scarcely had a mouthful to eat, excepting the broiled monkey at tambo No. 7, shot by the young Indian.  The fever had me completely in its grasp.  I was left alone more than one hundred miles from human beings in absolute wilderness.  I measured cynically the tenaciousness of life, measured the thread that yet held me among the number of the living, and I realised now what the fight between life and death meant to a man brought to bay.  I had not the slightest doubt in my mind that this was the last of me.  Surely, no man could have been brought lower or to greater extremity and live; no man ever faced a more hopeless proposition.  Yet I could or would not yield, but put the pistol back where it belonged.

All night long I crawled on and on and ever on, through the underbrush, with no sense of direction whatever, and still I am sure that I did not crawl in a circle but that I covered a considerable distance.  For hours I moved along at the absolute mercy of any beast of the forest that might meet me.

The damp chill of the approaching morning usual in these regions came to me with a cooling touch and restored once more to some extent my sanity.  My clothes were almost stripped from my body, and smeared with mud, my hands and face were torn and my knees were a mass of bruises.

CHAPTER IX

AMONG THE CANNIBAL MANGEROMAS

I have a vague recollection of hearing the barking of dogs, of changing my crawling direction to head for the sound, and then, suddenly, seeing in front of me a sight which had the same effect as a rescuing steamer on the shipwrecked.

To my confused vision it seemed that I saw many men and women and children, and a large, round house; I saw parrots fly across the open space in brilliant, flashing plumage and heard their shrill screaming.  I cried aloud and fell forward when a little curly-haired dog jumped up and commenced licking my face, and then I knew no more.

When I came to I was lying in a comfortable hammock in a large, dark room.  I heard the murmur of many voices and presently a man came over and looked at me.  I did not understand where I was, but thought that I, finally, had gone mad.  I fell asleep again.  The next time I woke up I saw an old woman leaning over me and holding in her hand a gourd containing some chicken-broth which I swallowed slowly, not feeling the cravings of hunger, in fact not knowing whether I was dead or alive.  The old woman had a peculiar piece of wood through her lip and looked very unreal to me, and I soon fell asleep again.