But the huge Krooman was doomed to as bitter a disappointment as the
youths he was in search of had experienced at their return to the
river camp. He found the spot on which the Golden Eagle had rested
deserted, but still urged on by his strange sense of locality he
finally stumbled upon the ivory cache.

"Um, big fight here," he mused to himself as he gazed about him at
the mangled bodies of the gorillas which showed black as ink on the
rocks in the sharp, brilliant moonlight. The heap of uncollected
ivory was the next thing to attract his eye and with a guttural
grunt the negro helped himself to a drink of water from his skin-bag
while he sat down to ponder. He did not waste much time in
reflection. Springing to his feet he vanished down one of the dark
recesses of the mountain-side and was gone about an hour. When he
returned he picked up an armful of the ivory--a load that would have
staggered three ordinary men--and, hefting it easily in his arms,
vanished with it into the dark shadows. For two hours he worked
steadily and at the close of that period there was not enough ivory
left about the cache to make a watch-charm of. Old Sikaso had found
a new hiding place for the stuff the boys were compelled to leave.

Then he sat himself once more down on the rock, and leisurely
smashing to pieces with his inseparable axe, the wooden cover that
had been over the cache, he selected, with a good deal of care one
of the dead gorillas. Having found the one that seemed to suit him;
he cut off from its flank a hunk of meat with his keen weapon and
producing a flint and steel soon had the meat toasting over a blaze.
When it was done to his satisfaction he leisurely ate it and washed
it down with a draught from his skin-bag. He then cooked several