THE END OF THE TRAIL 283 



soul to give me any more skilled medical help than a 

 drink of water, and this I could not swallow, so 

 swollen were my lips. I really thought I could feel 

 pieces of the flesh coming off from my body as I 

 groaned on the blankets. 



I began to pictvire the lockjaw which had attacked 

 the boy. For this we had no senun in camp and 

 were hundreds of miles from any surgeons. What 

 worried me most was that the kerosene lamp the boys 

 had lit gave out, for me, only the faintest and 

 dimmest of glows. Outside of its little circle, which 

 revealed no objects to me, the rest was utter darkness. 



At last I heard voices and steps — then a very 

 familiar voice — Osa's. She had heard the report of 

 the eight times double charge of the flash cartridges, 

 back in the woods, but at first thought it thunder. 

 Then, seeing the stars through the trees, she had 

 become worried and hastened with Ndimdu back to 

 camp. 



There she had met the boys with scared faces, 

 crying, "Bwana has had most awful accident." 

 Perhaps she expected to see me dead; anyway. I must 

 have been a horrifying sight to a white woman. 

 They told me afterwards that I was black from head 

 to foot and all blisters, the seared flesh showing even 

 through the great bums in my clothes. 



Poor Osa came running into my room, nearly in 

 hysterics. The first thing she asked me was: "Can 



