“‘He was smiling—a strange smile from one whose lips were still parched.
“‘Yes,’ I replied.
“‘Can I see him?’
“‘No, he is dead!’
“Had I not stretched out my hand to steady him he would have fallen.
“‘Dead!’ he cried, a look of horror in his eyes. ‘No! You don’t mean—not starved to death! No, no, you don’t mean that!’ He was trembling all over.
“‘No, he blew out his brains last night. His grave is outside. Come, I will show it to you.’
“I had almost to carry him. For an instant he leaned against a tree growing near the poor fellow’s head, his eyes fixed on the rude mound. Then he slowly sank to his knees and burst into tears, sobbing:
“‘Oh! If I could have stopped him! He was so young to die.’
“Two days later he set out on his return to the coast.”