or our start. The fire had died quite down, and I rose and stretched
myself, shivering in every limb from the damp cold of the dawn. Then I
looked at Leo. He was sitting up, holding his hands to his head, and I
saw that his face was flushed and his eye bright, and yet yellow round
the pupil.

"Well, Leo," I said, "how do you feel?"

"I feel as though I were going to die," he answered hoarsely. "My head
is splitting, my body is trembling, and I am as sick as a cat."

I whistled, or if I did not whistle I felt inclined to--Leo had got a
sharp attack of fever. I went to Job, and asked him for the quinine,
of which fortunately we had still a good supply, only to find that Job
himself was not much better. He complained of pains across the back, and
dizziness, and was almost incapable of helping himself. Then I did the
only thing it was possible to do under the circumstances--gave them both
about ten grains of quinine, and took a slightly smaller dose myself as
a matter of precaution. After that I found Billali, and explained to him
how matters stood, asking at the same time what he thought had best be
done. He came with me, and looked at Leo and Job (whom, by the way,
he had named the Pig on account of his fatness, round face, and small
eyes).

"Ah," he said, when we were out of earshot, "the fever! I thought so.
The Lion has it badly, but he is young, and he may live. As for the Pig,
his attack is not so bad; it is the 'little fever' which he has; that
always begins with pains across the back, it will spend itself upon his
fat."

"Can they go on, my father?" I asked.

"Nay, my son, they must go on. If they stop here they will certainly
die; also, they will be better in the litters than on the ground. By
to-night, if all goes well, we shall be across the marsh and in good
air. Come, let us lift them into the litters and start, for it is very
bad to stand still in this morning fog. We can eat our meal as we go."

This we accordingly did, and with a heavy heart I once more set out upon
our strange journey. For the first three hours all went as well as
could be expected, and then an accident happened that nearly lost us the
pleasure of the company of our venerable friend Billali, whose litter
was leading the cavalcade. We were going through a particularly
dangerous stretch of quagmire, in which the bearers sometimes sank up to
their knees. Indeed, it was a mystery to me how they contrived to
carry the heavy litters at a