It was on the fourth night that the trouble began.  As usual they had lit a huge fire made of the fallen boughs and rotting tree trunks that lay about in plenty.  There was no reason why the fire should be so large, since they had little to cook and the air was hot, but they made it so for the same reason that Jeekie answered questions, for the sake of cheerfulness.  At least it gave light in the darkness, leaping up in red tongues of flame twenty or thirty feet high, and its roar and crackle were welcome in the primeval silence.

Alan lay upon the cork mattress in the open, for here there was no need to pitch the tent; if any rain fell above, the canopy of leaves absorbed it.  He was amusing himself while he smoked his pipe with watching the reflection of the fire-light against a patch of darkness caused probably by some bush about twenty yards away, and by picturing in his own mind the face of Barbara, that strong, pleasant English face, as it might appear on such a background.  Suddenly there, on the identical spot he did see a face, though one of a very different character.  It was round and small and hideous, resembling in its general outline that of a bloated child.  At this distance he could not distinguish the features, except the lips, which were large and pendulous, and between them the flash of white teeth.

“Look here,” he whispered to Jeekie in English, and Jeekie looked, then without saying a word, lifted the shotgun that lay at his side and fired straight at the bush.  Instantly there arose a squeaking noise, such as might be made by a wounded animal, and the four porters sprang up in alarm.

“Sit down,” said Jeekie to them in their own tongue, “a leopard was stalking us and I fired to frighten it away.  Don’t go near the place, as it may be wounded and angry, but drag up some boughs and make a fence round the fire, for fear of others.”

The men who dreaded leopards, looking on these animals, indeed, with superstitious reverence, obeyed readily enough, and as there was plenty of wood lying within a few yards, soon constructed a boma fence that, rough as it was, would serve for protection.

“Jeekie,” said Alan presently as they laboured at the fence, “that was not a leopard, it was a man.”

“No, no, Major, not man, little dwarf devil, him that have poisoned arrow.  I shoot at once to make him sit up.  Think he no come back to-night, too much afraid of shot fetish.  But to-morrow, can’t say.  Not tell those fellows anything,” and he nodded towards the porters, “or perhaps they bolt.”

“I think you would have done better to leave the dwarf alone,” said Alan, “and they might have left us alone.  Now they will have a blood feud against us.”

“Not agree, Major, only chance for us put him in blue funk.  If I not shoot, presently he shoot,” and he made a sound that resembled the whistling of an arrow, then added, “Now you go sleep.  I not tired, I watch, my eyes see in dark better than yours.  Only two more days of this damn forest, then open land with tree here and there, where dwarf no come because he afraid of lion and cannibal man, who like eat him.”