"The man you chicotted with your own hand," said Abiboo. Now, the Commissioner had neither chicotted a man, nor had he ordered punishment, but he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, "I will see him." On the edge of the camp there was a little group about a prostrate figure. The Houssas fell apart with black looks as Sanders came near, and there was some muttering. Though Sanders did not see it, M'Lino looked strangely at Ahmid, a Houssa, who took up his rifle and went stealthily into the bush. The Commissioner bent over the man who lay there, felt his breast, and detected no beat of heart. "Get me my medicine chest," he said, but none obeyed him. "Sergeant," he repeated, "bring my medicine chest!" Abiboo saluted slowly, and, with every appearance of reluctance, went. He came back with the case of undressed skin, and Sanders opened it, took out the ammonia bottle, and applied it to the man's nose. He made no sign. "We shall see," was all that Sanders said when the experiment failed. He took a hypodermic syringe and filled the little tube with a solution of strychnine. This he jabbed unceremoniously into the patient's back. In a minute the corpse sat up, jerkily. "Ha!" said Sanders, cheerfully; "I am evidently a great magician!" He rose to his feet, dusted his knees, and beckoned the sergeant. "Take four men and return to the place where you left Tembeli. If the leopards have not taken him, you will meet him on the road, because by this time he will have waked up." He saw the party march off, then turned his attention to M'Lino. "My woman," he said, "it is evident to me that you are a witch, although I have met your like before"--it was observed that the face of Sanders was very white. "I cannot flog you, because you are a woman, but I can kill you." She laughed. Their eyes met in a struggle for mastery, and so they stared at one another for a space of time which seemed to Sanders a thousand years, but which was in all probability less than a minute. "It would be better if you killed yourself," she said. "I think so," said Sanders dully, and fumbled for his revolver. It was half drawn, his thumb on the hammer, when a rifle banged in the bushes and the woman fell forward without a word. Ahmid, the Houssa, was ever a bad shot. * * * * * "I believe," said Sanders, later, "that you took your rifle to kill me, being under the influence of M'Lino, so I will make no bad report against you." "Master," said the Houssa simply, "I know nothing of the matter." "That I can well believe," said Sanders, and gave the order to march. CHAPTER XI. THE WITCH-DOCTOR.