At least, so I told him
indignantly when at length we roused him from his indecent slumbers.
"You should judge things by results, Allan," he said with a yawn. "I'm
as fresh as a pippin while you all look as though you had been to a
ball with twelve extras. Have you retrieved the Kalubi yet?"
Shortly afterwards, when the mist lifted a little, we went out in a
line to "retrieve the Kalubi," and found--well, I won't describe what
we found. He was a cruel wretch, as the incident of the herd-boy had
told us, but I felt sorry for him. Still, his terrors were over, or at
least I hope so.
We deposited him in the box that Komba had kindly provided in
preparation for this inevitable event, and Brother John said a prayer
over his miscellaneous remains. Then, after consultation and in the
very worst of spirits, we set out to seek the way to the home of the
Mother of the Flower. The start was easy enough, for a distinct,
though very faint path led from the clearing up the slope of the hill.
Afterwards it became more difficult for the denser forest began.
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