His revolver was on a level with the captain's heart,
and the latter had taken but a step when Werper pulled
the trigger. Without a moan the man sank to the rough
planking of the veranda, and as he fell the mists that
had clouded Werper's brain lifted, so that he saw
himself and the deed that he had done in the same light
that those who must judge him would see them.
He heard excited exclamations from the quarters of the
soldiers and he heard men running in his direction.
They would seize him, and if they didn't kill him they
would take him down the Congo to a point where a
properly ordered military tribunal would do so just as
effectively, though in a more regular manner.
Werper had no desire to die. Never before had he so
yearned for life as in this moment that he had so
effectively forfeited his right to live. The men were
nearing him. What was he to do? He glanced about as
though searching for the tangible form of a legitimate
excuse for his crime; but he could find only the body
of the man he had so causelessly shot down.
In despair, he turned and fled from the oncoming
soldiery. Across the compound he ran, his revolver
still clutched tightly in his hand. At the gates a
sentry halted him. Werper did not pause to parley or
to exert the influence of his commission--he merely
raised his weapon and shot down the innocent black. A
moment later the fugitive had torn open the gates and
vanished into the blackness of the jungle, but not
before he had transferred the rifle and ammunition
belts of the dead sentry to his own person.
All that night Werper fled farther and farther into the
heart of the wilderness. Now and again the voice of a
lion brought him to a listening halt; but with cocked
and ready rifle he pushed ahead again, more fearful of
the human huntsmen in his rear than of the wild
carnivora ahead.
Dawn came at last, but still the man plodded on.
All sense of hunger and fatigue were lost in the terrors
of contemplated capture. He could think only of escape.
He dared not pause to rest or eat until there was no
further danger from pursuit, and so he staggered on
until at last he fell and could rise no more. How long
he had fled he did not know, or try to know. When he
could flee no longer the knowledge that he had reached
his limit was hidden from him in the unconsciousness of
