While she still sat in the boat she had suddenly discovered a score of “horrid black brutes” descending upon the place. She had found the task of pushing off to be quite beyond her strength, in addition to which she had been so bewildered as not to know in the least where she had arrived. The creatures—the Black Missing Links—had appeared of threatening aspect, yet she had soon been made to realise that they were delighted to see her among them and that all regarded herself as a prize belonging to the tribe. With her snake, of which they had immediately manifested a fear, she had followed where these monsters led, although unwillingly. They had given her food, but they had appeared to have no thought or consideration of her weakened condition, nor even of the fact that she was a woman and therefore not as strong as themselves. In consequence of this, she had been obliged to march through the jungle till nearly ready to drop from sheer weariness of body. Her clothing had been torn to tatters on the brush; her shoes had been all but ruined, and her flesh had been scratched and bruised. “That is all there is to tell,” she concluded. “It has been a horrid, desperate existence ever since. The monsters have never been cruel, but I have been burned in the sun, and I have shivered in the rain and chill of night. I have been trembling at the thought of some terrible death, and then praying that I might really die and end all the wretched horror. I couldn’t tell where I was,—you say you don’t even know yourself,—and day and night I have been in a condition of dread bordering on insanity. It has all been so terribly hopeless—so loathsome. Oh how I have suffered! And that horrible old woman has watched me like a hawk, and I couldn’t have escaped if I had tried, and I didn’t know where to get a boat, and I couldn’t make anything—not even clothes,—and the horrid female creatures stole nearly all I had left, and I didn’t even have a needle, or a piece of soap, or a toothbrush!” “Perhaps I could make you a comb,” I suggested, to drive away her dreadful thoughts, if possible, but she appeared not to hear. “Poor Papa,” she resumed, “I don’t know what he ever thought, or where he is, or anything about anything.” “Oh well,” said I, “we’ll soon be getting away from here now, and perhaps the trip will turn out pretty well after all. You’ll probably be at home in a month, forgetting all about this expedition to the land of Missing Links.” She shook her head, the wild look in her eyes came back. “That is too good a dream to come true,” she said. “It doesn’t seem as if we can ever get away,—but oh, Mr. Nevers—I do hope you will never let them get me back,—oh if only you will take me away—if only you will!” and again she broke down and sobbed, as if it had been a thousand times too much to bear. “I’ll do it or bust!” I assured her with much enthusiasm. “I couldn’t say more than that if I tried. We’ll come out all right, don’t you worry.”