ii THE FIGHT WITH THE FOUR 29 



can inflict, and poor Simba, unable to bear the 

 cruel pangs any longer, crawled over on hands 

 and knees to where the elephant lay and began 

 to lap up the half-congealed blood which had 

 flowed from the animal's head and gathered in 

 a tiny, shining pool. I myself, half-crazy with the 

 agony, struggled to my feet, pulled a handful of 

 leaves from an adjacent tree, and hoping that the 

 moisture contained in the foliage would cool my 

 parched mouth, was about to chew them. All at 

 once, Simba, having seen my action, rushed up 

 and caught my arm. 



' Don't, bwana, don't,' he cried, ' it is the 

 poison tree ! Wait a little while and I'll try to 

 get you some roots.' 



Somewhat refreshed by his awful draught, he 

 staggered off into the forest, while I again flung 

 myself down and strove calmly to bear the 

 torturing pangs until my tracker returned. I 

 had only lain a few minutes when, to my joy, 

 I heard yell after yell of delight. 



' Bwana, nemepona ! Bwana, nemepona ! ' 

 (Master, we are saved! Master, we are saved!) 

 Getting up, I tottered in the direction of the 

 voice and ere long came upon Simba, busy 

 with his knife at the stems of a water-bearing 



o 



creeper which the natives call ntamba. After he 

 had cut several lengths of about two feet each 



