The sun was setting. In a few minutes more the swift darkness would fall. After delivering the astonishing volley the troops wheeled and under Kingozi's guidance proceeded down the forest path to the great clearing. It was the close of a long, hard day, but under the scrutinizing eyes of these thousands of proud _shenzis_ the Sudanese stepped forth jauntily. Camping places were designated. All was activity as the tents were raised.

But now rode in the two white men who had closed the rear of the column, not only of the fighting men, but of the burden bearers as well. They were covered with dust and apparently very glad to arrive. One of them rode directly to the group of officers and dismounted stiffly.

"McCloud!" cried Kingozi.

"The same," replied that efficient surgeon. "And now let's see the eyes. I have your scrawl." He stumped forward, looking keenly for what he wanted. "Sit here in this chair. Boy!" he bawled. "_Lete taa_--bring the lantern. And my case of knives. No, my lad, I'm not going to operate on you instanter, but I do want my reflector. Hold the light just here. Now, don't any of you move. Tip your head back a bit, that's a good chap." He went methodically forward with his examination as though he were at home in his white office. "H'm. How long this been going on? Five weeks, eh! Been blind? Oh--why didn't you use that pilocarpin I gave you--I see." The officers and other white men stood about in a compact and silent group. A sudden grave realization of the situation had descended upon them, sobering their careless or laughing countenances. No one knew exactly what it was all about, but some had caught the word "blindness" and repeated it to others. Some one yelled "_kalale_" savagely at the chattering men. Almost a dead stillness fell on the clearing, so that in the falling twilight the tree hyraxes took heart and began to utter their demoniac screams. The darkness came down softly. Soon the group in the centre turned to silhouettes against the light of the two lanterns held head high on either side the patient.

Absorbedly Doctor McCloud proceeded. Kingozi sat quietly, turning his head to either side, raising or lowering his chin as he was requested to do so. At last McCloud straightened his back.

"It is glaucoma right enough," said he; "fairly advanced. The pilocarpin has been a palliative. An operation is called for--iridectomy."

He paused, wiping his mirror. Nobody dared ask the question that Kingozi himself at last propounded.

"Can you do it--have you the necessary instruments?'"

"Fine spade scalpel, small tweezers, scissors--_and_ a lot of experience. I've got all the former."

"And the latter?"

"I've done the operation before," said McCloud dryly.

"Will it restore my sight permanently."

"If successful the job will be permanent."

"What chance of success?"

"Fair--fair," rejoined McCloud with a touch of impatience. "How can I tell? But I'll just inform you of this, my lad, without the operation you're stone blind for the rest of your days, and it must be done now or not at all. So there's your Hobson's choice; and we'll get at it comfortably in the morning."

He turned away and stopped with a frank stare of astonishment. The other men followed his gaze, and also stared.

The Leopard Woman stood just within the circle of illumination. So intent was she on the examination and on Kingozi that she seemed utterly unconscious of the men standing over opposite. Her soft silk robe fell about her body in classic folds; the single jewel on its chain fillet blazed on her forehead; her hair fell in its braid to her hips, and her wide, gray-green eyes were fixed on the seated man. A more startlingly exotic figure for the wilds of Central Africa could not be imagined. The expressions on the faces of the newcomers were varied enough, to be sure, but all had a common groundwork of fair imbecility.

She seemed to be unaware of even their presence. When. McCloud had pronounced his opinion, she glided forward and laid her hand on Kingozi's shoulder.

"I am glad--but I am afraid," she said softly. Kingozi covered her hand with one of his own. His eyes twinkled with quiet amusement as he looked about him at the stricken faces of his friends. She whirled on the gaping McCloud. "But you must have a care!" she cried at him vehemently. "You must save his eyes. I wish it!"

McCloud, recovering himself, bowed.

"Madam," said he with a faint, amused irony. "It shall be my pleasure to do my best in fulfilling your commands."

"It must be," she repeated; and turned to face the rest. "He is a great man; he must be saved. All this is folly. I have fought him to my best, for long, and I have used all means--good and bad. He conquered me as one who--what you call--subdues a child. And he is generous, and brave, and when the darkness comes to him he does not sit and weep. He is a great soul, and all things must be done!"

She was superb, her head thrown back. Captain Walsh was the first to recover from the stunned condition in............