who lay cold in
death on his bed of leaves, and whose last words were being read to
them.

"This last is pretty faint," said Schoverling with expressionless voice.
"It's the last thing he wrote, and he seems to have failed at the end.
Here is what I can make out of it:

"'Z. knocked over a vulture two days ago from carcass of camel. Made him
take half, and he promised to go for help. Was too weak and came back.
I'm pretty near gone. If you get this, L. S., go kill that rogue for me.
Ivory worth while in cache. Feel cold to waist--must be going. Great
news for British, eh? Thank God I've lived a decent life, according to
my lights.'"

Schoverling's voice died away, and they knew he had reached the end.
Without another word the explorer rose to his feet, walked a few paces
and stood gazing over the river with his back toward them. Von Hofe,
sucking his unlighted pipe, made no secret of the tears that trickled
over his dusty blond beard. Charlie and Jack gazed at each other in awed
silence, for that last letter was very vivid and very real to them both.

"He ampudaded hiss own hand--ach!" said the big German huskily, at last.

At the words, Schoverling turned and came slowly back to them, his face
set and hard. Behind them the Masai were digging the graves under the
direction of Akram Das, and the oxen were splashing about in the shallow
silver thread of the river.

"Five days by camel--that would mean at least a week or ten days with
the wagons," said the explorer quietly, looking at von Hofe. The German
met the look and nodded.

"Yess. We shall do as he ordered."

"Do you mean that we are going to Lake Quilqua?" exclaimed Jack eagerly.

"We are, Jack. There is no reason why we should not bring back that
rogue. He's just the fellow we're after, as--as poor Mowbray said." His
voice shook a little. "If we'd only arrived a day or two sooner!"

"It can't be helped, General," returned Charlie softly. "We could not
know that he was here, and we might have done no good anyhow. Those last
words of his were fine."

"That letter will be framed, some day," said the explorer, "and it'll
hang where every man in the Explorer's Club will be proud of it. What a
fine fellow that Arab was, too! I'm heartsick to think that we failed to
save him."

"It was no use," von Hofe rose to his feet calmly. "It was starvation
and wounds. He was a good man, yes. My friends, we will bring that
rogue's skin back, and those others. What a