THE KALAHARI DESERT. 
7 
“ It cannot be !” said Lulu. “Here, let me feel liis 
pulse. Jan ! run and fetch me the looking-glass, quick ! 
while I open his shirt. He cannot be dead ; it is not 
possible. Here, feel here, he is warm.” 
“ Here is the glass, sir,” said Jan, in a half- whisper. 
I wonder why it is that every one always speaks in 
a whisper in the presence of the dead. Is it that they 
are afraid of waking them ? Here was I only half dead, 
and yet they could not wake me. 
“ Hold the light here ! Thank God he breathes : the 
glass is wet ; he is alive. Bring me the brandy ; we 
must pour some down him. Fetch me a spoon. Kert, 
tell those Bushmen to rub his legs and feet and hands, 
like this ! ” and Lulu evidently showed them what to 
do ; but I could feel nothing. 
