I listened, but could hear nothing. One would hardly expect a white man's ears to detect a gorilla taking special pains to be quiet. Arthur seemed to hear something, however. He quietly raised his rifle. I followed the direction in which he was pointing, but could see nothing. He fired. A branch swayed slightly where his bullet had grazed it, but aside from that there was no sign. "I didn't see a thing," I remarked. Arthur shook his head. "It may be nerves," he said quietly. "That damned beast has haunted me, but I think I saw it." We went on up to the house slowly. Just before we reached the porch Arthur looked at me pitifully. "I heard it following us all the way," he told me. The perspiration was standing out on his forehead. "It _is_ there, and it _is_ waiting for a chance to revenge itself on me. And the beast has learned cunning! We must look out for Alicia." I nodded. Evan was waiting for us. "Find anything?" he called down. "What did you shoot at?" "The gorilla," said Arthur in a low tone. "It's there and it's determined. We'd better warn Alicia and Mrs. Braymore." Evan looked dubious. "Did Murray see it?" I shook my head. Evan frowned thoughtfully. "Arthur, old chap, it may be just nerves. The women have enough to worry them with the way the natives are acting, anyway. We'll keep a sharp lookout, of course. I'm going to hunt up those natives, though." "They're your natives," I said, "but I question whether that's a wise move. If it's just native foolishness, they'll come back. If not, they're liable to be pretty--well, reckless." "They're my natives," said Evan angrily. "I don't intend to humor them. I'll throw a scare into them that will last them ten years. If I know anything of juju----" "What?" I asked. "They'll never dare breathe without permission hereafter," Evan said grimly. He seemed to be in a cold fury. Remembering the abject fear in which his slaves seemed to be all the time, I wondered what he might have in store for them. I opened my mouth to protest against his trying to look for his natives, but stopped. That juju house at which my boys had hinted, concealed in some hidden clearing near the village, might hold a secret by which he controlled them. In any event, he knew his own natives best. We went into the house and sat down to breakfast. We must have made a queer sight, sitting there before that spotless table, our clothing disheveled and hastily donned, our rifles leaning against our chairs. Neither Arthur nor myself could eat more than a little, but Evan's appetite seemed undiminished. The native girl waited on us, the lurking panic in her eyes never very far from the surface. It seemed nearest when she looked at Evan.