CHAPTER XI

That night I was taken horribly ill; so ill that, after thinking it must be cholera, thought departed altogether, and I knew nothing more for several days. When I did return to a realization of my surroundings, I found that I was back in the guest-tent, and that I was alone. Where was John Geste? My last memory was of his helping me in that foul goat-skin hole, while that beastly nigger, callous as an animal, sat and stared. A horrible panic fear gripped my heart, and feebly I called John’s name. And even as my hea…