XLVII. 

 THE MAGIC PORTALS CLOSE. 



IT seemed hopeless to try for a picture. Never- 

 theless I opened wide my lens, steadied 

 the camera, and gave it a half-second. The re- 

 sult was fairly good. So much for a high grade 

 lens. We sent Kongoni into camp for help, 

 and ourselves proceeded to build up the usual 

 fire for signal and for protection against wild 

 beasts. Then we sat down to enjoy the even- 

 ing, while Mavrouki skinned the kudu. 



We looked abroad over a wide stretch of 

 country. Successive low ridges crossed our front, 

 each of a different shade of slate gray from its 

 neighbours, and a gray half-luminous mist filled 

 the valley between them. The edge of the world 

 was thrown sharp against burnished copper. 

 After a time the moon rose. 



Memba Sasa arrived before the lanterns, out 

 of breath, his face streaming with perspiration. 



