I sprang up and covered the beast with the rifle which was cocked, getting full on to its head which showed the clearest, though this was rather guesswork, since I could not see distinctly the fore-sight.  I pulled, but either the cap or the powder had got a little damp on the journey and hung fire for the fraction of a second.  In that infinitesimal time the devil—­it is the best name I can give the thing —­saw me, or perhaps it only saw the light gleaming on the barrel.  At any rate it dropped the Kalubi, and as though some intelligence warned it what to expect, threw up its massive right arm—­I remember how extraordinarily long the limb seemed and that it looked thick as a man’s thigh—­in such a fashion as to cover its head.

Then the rifle exploded and I heard the bullet strike.  By the light of the flash I saw the great arm tumble down in a dead, helpless kind of way, and next instant the whole forest began to echo with peal upon peal of those awful roarings that I have described, each of which ended with a dog-like yowp of pain.

“You have hit him, Baas,” said Hans, “and he isn’t a ghost, for he doesn’t like it.  But he’s still very lively.”

“Close up,” I answered, “and hold out the spears while I reload.”

My fear was that the brute would rush on us.  But it did not.  For all that dreadful night we saw or heard it no more.  Indeed, I began to hope that after all the bullet had reached some mortal part and that the great ape was dead.

At length, it seemed to be weeks afterwards, the dawn broke and revealed us sitting white and shivering in the grey mist; that is, all except Stephen, who had gone comfortably to sleep with his head resting on Mavovo’s shoulder.  He is a man so equably minded and so devoid of nerves, that I feel sure he will be one of the last to be disturbed by the trump of the archangel.  At least, so I told him indignantly when at length we roused him from his indecent slumbers.

“You should judge things by results, Allan,” he said with a yawn.  “I’m as fresh as a pippin while you all look as though you had been to a ball with twelve extras.  Have you retrieved the Kalubi yet?”

Shortly afterwards, when the mist lifted a little, we went out in a line to “retrieve the Kalubi,” and found—­well, I won’t describe what we found.  He was a cruel wretch, as the incident of the herd-boy had told us, but I felt sorry for him.  Still, his terrors were over, or at least I hope so.

We deposited him in the box that Komba had kindly provided in preparation for this inevitable event, and Brother John said a prayer over his miscellaneous remains.  Then, after consultation and in the very worst of spirits, we set out to seek the way to the home of the Mother of the Flower.  The start was easy enough, for a distinct, though very faint path led from the clearing up the slope of the hill.  Afterwards it became more difficult for the denser forest began.  Fortunately very few creepers grew in this forest, but the flat tops of the huge trees meeting high above entirely shut out the sky, so that the gloom was great, in places almost that of night.