observed a man running swiftly,
as if in pursuit of something. They could see that he was clothed, and
that he carried several spears, from which they judged that he was a
hunter. Coming to the foot of the cliff before mentioned, the man
ascended the face of it with wonderful agility, and had almost gained
the top, when a treacherous root or stone gave way, causing him to lose
his hold and roll violently to the bottom.

"Poor fellow, he's killed!" cried Mark, running towards the fallen
hunter, who lay on the ground motionless.

He was not killed, however, though stunned and bleeding profusely from a
deep wound in the arm, caused by one of his own spears while in the act
of falling. When the three strangers suddenly appeared the hunter
grasped one of the spears and made a vigorous attempt to rise, evidently
under the impression that he was about to be attacked; but the fall and
the loss of blood were too much for him. He sank back with a groan, yet
there was a look of quiet dignity about him which showed that he gave
way to no craven spirit.

Our young doctor, kneeling down beside him, proceeded at once to staunch
the wound and bind up the arm with his pocket-handkerchief. While he
was thus engaged, Hockins brought some water from a neighbouring stream
in a cup which he had extemporised out of a piece of bark, and applied
it to the man's lips. Ebony stood by, with a look of profound pity on
his face, ready for whatever might be required of him.

The hunter showed by the expression of his handsome brown features that
he was grateful for these attentions. Yet, at the same time, there
seemed to be something of perplexity, if not surprise, in his looks as
he gazed on the white men's faces. But he did not utter a word. When
the dressing of the arm was completed--of course in a most businesslike
manner--he again attempted to rise, but was so weak from loss of blood
that he fell back fainting in the Doctor's arms.

"This is a most awkward business," said Mark, as he laid the man
carefully on the ground, and put a bundle of grass under his head for a
pillow. "It behoves us to push on our journey without delay, yet it
will never do to leave him here alone, and we can't very well take him
on with us. What _is_ to be done!"

Both Hockins and the negro _looked_ their incapacity to answer that
question. Just then the answer came in the form they least expected,
for a sound of many voices in clamorous talk suddenly