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upon it, I turned to the Southward, and after riding seven or eight miles in the direction of the our last encampment, had the unspeak- 
able satisfaction of perceiving the white waggons drawn up under a spreading tree in the middle of the plain. A volley from my rifle, 
fired at a little distance from the camp, had already relieved the anxiety of my ebatpnnton and followers, who, in consequence of the 
unexpected length of the march, had been compelled when darkness overtook them, to halt in that position. During the whole night 
they had entertained the most gloomy forebodings on my account—Ceur de Lion, my valet, perching himself, pipe in mouth, on his 
4 
favorite post on the waggon top, and exclaiming with agonised accents every ten minutes “I dont see master.” Having however tasted 
little nourishment for thirty hours, it will easily be understood why I was not over attentive to his anecdotes,—introduced @ propos of my 
adventures,—of sundry luckless pilgrims of his acquaintance, who had been torn piece-meal by lions, or toasted upon the assegais of 
the cannibals ! 
