Heart of Darknesslooked at me anxiously, gripping the spear like something
precious, with an air of being afraid I would try to take it
away from him. I had to make an effort to free my eyes from
his gaze and attend to the steering. With one hand I felt
above my head for the line of the steam whistle, and jerk-
ed out screech after screech hurriedly. The tumult of angry
and warlike yells was checked instantly, and then from the
depths of the woods went out such a tremulous and pro-
longed wail of mournful fear and utter despair as may be
imagined to follow the flight of the last hope from the earth.
There was a great commotion in the bush; the shower of ar-
rows stopped, a few dropping shots rang out sharply—then
silence, in which the languid beat of the stern-wheel came
plainly to my ears. I put the helm hard a-starboard at the
moment when the pilgrim in pink pyjamas, very hot and
agitated, appeared in the doorway. ‘The manager sends
me—’ he began in an official tone, and stopped short. ‘Good
God!’ he said, glaring at the wounded man.
‘We two whites stood over him, and his lustrous and
inquiring glance enveloped us both. I declare it looked as
though he would presently put to us some questions in an
understandable language; but he died without uttering a
sound, without moving a limb, without twitching a mus-
cle. Only in the very last moment, as though in response to
some sign we could not see, to some whisper we could not
hear, he frowned heavily, and that frown gave to his black
death-mask an inconeivably sombre, brooding, and menac-
ing expression. The lustre of inquiring glance faded swiftly
into vacant glassiness. ‘Can you steer?’ I asked the agent ea-