Charles Beadle

“ IV "HALLUCINATION!" muttered the doctor and pawed at his damp face again. But the image remained. The head was sunk forward slightly; the brown beard straggled over the shirtfront; one black-sleeved arm hung listlessly outside the chair, the other upon the right knee. In the moonlight the eyes glinted blue as the man stared at the fire.
"But a white man in evening kit!" whispered the doctor incredulously. "Here! Good God! No, no," he added after peering at the outline of a square hut built beneath the enormous boughs of the giant tree. "It is. I'm not crazy. The feller's crazy. ”

“ The doctor waited for him, trying to catch a glimpse of the face. The man returned with great eager strides and to the doctor's amazement caught him by the shoulders and spun him around face to the moon.
"Good God Almighty!" he exclaimed. "That's good!" He dropped him as suddenly. "I say, I beg your pardon! You must forgive me, I—er—I'm a little off my chump, y'know. I—well, as a matter of fact, I haven't seen a white man for years. I don't know, I—but come and sit down." He strode forward to the hut, his swallow tails flirting in the moonlight, and emerged, dragging another camp-chair. ”

“ No. I'm real!" shouted the doctor. "I'm English, I tell you."
THE man appeared satisfied, for he threw away the firebrand and advanced with long eager strides toward the gate, wrenched up the balks of timber and then, as if suddenly suspicious, leaped backward clear of the entrance. The doctor walked through, took off his helmet and held out his hand. ”