taken place in full view of his retainers, among whom it remained the
greatest of jokes. Indeed, he wanted to kill a man, the wag of the
party, who gave him a slang name which, being translated, means
"_He-who-is-so-brave-that-he-dares-to-ride-a-water-horse-up-a-tree._"

It was all over at last, for which I thanked Providence devoutly. A good
many of the sea-cows were dead, I think twenty-one was out exact bag,
but the majority of them had escaped in one way or another, many as I
fear, wounded. I imagine that at the last the bulk of the herd overcame
its fears and swimming through our screen, passed away down the channel.
At any rate they were gone, and having ascertained that there was
nothing to be done for the man who had been trampled on my side of the
channel, I crossed it in the canoe with the object of returning quietly
to our camp to rest.

But as yet there was to be no quiet for me, for there I found Captain
Robertson, who I think had been refreshing himself out of a bottle and
was in a great state of excitement about a native who had been killed
near him who was a favourite of his, and another whose leg was broken.
He declared vehemently that the hippopotamus which had done this had
been wounded and rushed into some bushes a few hundred yards away, and
that he meant to take vengeance upon it. Indeed, he was just setting off
to do so.

Seeing his agitated state I thought it wisest to follow him. What
happened need not be set out in detail. It is sufficient to say that
he found that hippopotamus and blazed both barrels at it in the bushes,
hitting it, but not seriously. Out lumbered the creature with its mouth
open, wishing to escape. Robertson turned to fly as he was in its path,
but from one cause or another, tripped and fell down. Certainly he would
have been crushed beneath its huge feet had I not stepped in front of
him and sent two solid eight-bore bullets down that yawning throat,
killing it dead within three feet of where Robertson was trying to rise,
and I may add, of myself.

This narrow escape sobered him, and I am bound to say that his gratitude
was profuse.

"You are a brave man," he said, "and had it not been for you by now I
should be wherever bad people go. I'll not forget it, Mr. Quatermain,
and if ever you want anything that John Robertson can give, why, it's
yours."

"Very well," I answered, being seized by an inspiration, "I do want
something that you can give easily enough."

"Give