John betook himself to Lucy’s tent, exultant. He had killed a lion! He almost forgot to kneel down and send up a thanksgiving for the Divine protection accorded to them. Lucy dried her eyes and at last made an effort to dress and swallow a little breakfast. As her nerves were shattered by the "close call" they had had in the night, and as a burial service must be held over the dead porter and the loads be readjusted, John announced there would be no march that day. But the next morning Lucy could hardly sit her donkey. And by ill-luck the caravan had only just started and was passing through more ruined banana plantations—another charnel house of the last Masai raid—when it was abruptly halted by a shout of "Nyoka!" Owing to the obstacles of the felled banana stems it was difficult to diverge from the narrow track; and, barring the men’s way, in the middle of that track an unusually large "spitting" cobra had erected itself on the stiffened tail-third of its length and was balancing its flattened, expanded body to and fro, threatening the advance of the caravan. It should have been a comparatively easy matter to fell it with a well-flung banana stem, but meanwhile the file of porters halted, and John, impatient to find out the cause of the halt, urged on his donkey to flounder through the vegetation along the track and reach the head of the caravan. Lucy’s donkey was so devoted to her sister ass that she could never bear to be separated from her; so, unchecked by Lucy’s limp clutch on the reins, she hurried forward. But when she saw the swaying cobra she bolted off to the left into the banana tangle, and the abrupt action flung her rider off amongst skulls and bones and rotting vegetation. The headman, with a tent-pole, hurled adroitly at the aggressive snake, broke its back, the exasperated porters rushed forward and whacked it to pulp and then threw the remains far from the path, took up their loads and marched forward, hastening to leave so ill-omened a place. The cook and the personal attendant hurried to raise the unconscious, slightly stunned Lucy from her horrible surroundings and caught the donkey. The caravan, however, had to be halted afresh. Lucy was far too ill to ride. Yet a further stay could hardly be made in these surroundings. After a conference with the headman it was decided to rig up a "machila" or travelling hammock out of blankets, and a long pole, and to march on a mile or so to a better site for a camping place, and there await the lady’s recovery....