He felt a weight on his back.
He was white in the face with fear—yes, there is no other word for it—when he at length succeeded in disentangling himself and getting up. The matter was serious. There were more things in heaven and earth and the woods of Ceylon than he had dreamt of in his philosophy. He determined to retire, and that right speedily too. So he bundled his things up hurriedly. He would never come here alone again, he told himself.
But the cap of the camera could nowhere be found. Dr. Reikie was a man of method and regularity, and he made sure he had laid it down just there. Well, it must have been spirited away.
He was bending down to pick up a strap, when crack! upon his bare head came the missing cap. His astonishment now knew no bounds; but on looking up, behold an old, very old man with a long white beard bearing down towards him, staff in hand, through a neighbouring glade.
Was this, then, the evil spirit of the place that had wrought all the mischief? Was this—
"Good-morning, sir. Glad to see you on my domains."
"Thank you; but really, sir—"
"Perhaps you would like to come up to my bungalow and drink a glass of sherbet. It is quite close. I am a sailor, like yourself, and a naturalist. I have quite a menagerie up here, and was just coming to look for two mischievous rascals of baboons that have escaped."
"Baboons!" said the doctor, rubbing himself once more; "did you say baboons, sir?"