THE CRY IN THE CHASM If Mukoki had been a white man he would have analyzed in some way the meaning of those strange cries.

But the wild and its savage things formed his world; and his world, until this night, had never known human or beast that could make the terrible sounds he had heard.

So for an hour he crouched where he had fallen, still trembling with that nameless fear, and trying hard to form a solution of what had happened.

Slowly he recovered himself.

For many years he had mingled with white people at the Post and reason now battled with the superstitions of his race.
He had been fired at.