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           Youcan’thitanythingunlessyoutakeaimandfirefromtheshoulder;butthesechapsfiredfromthehipwiththeireyesshut.Theretreat,Imaintained—andIwasright—wascausedbythescreechingofthesteamwhistle.UponthistheyforgotKurtz,andbegantohowlatmewithindignantprotests.

           "Themanagerstoodbythewheelmurmuringconfidentiallyaboutthenecessityofgettingwellawaydowntheriverbeforedarkatallevents,whenIsawinthedistanceaclearingontheriversideandtheoutlinesofsomesortofbuilding.‘What’sthis?’Iasked.Heclappedhishandsinwonder.‘Thestation!’hecried.Iedgedinatonce,stillgoinghalf-speed.

           "ThroughmyglassesIsawtheslopeofahillinterspersedwithraretreesandperfectlyfreefromundergrowth.Alongdecayingbuildingonthesummitwashalfburiedinthehighgrass;thelargeholesinthepeakedroofgapedblackfromafar;thejungleandthewoodsmadeabackground.Therewasnoenclosureorfenceofanykind;buttherehadbeenoneapparently,fornearthehousehalf-a-dozenslimpostsremainedinarow,roughlytrimmed,andwiththeirupperendsornamentedwithroundcarvedballs.Therails,orwhatevertherehadbeenbetween,haddisappeared.Ofcoursetheforestsurroundedallthat.Theriver-bankwasclear,andonthewatersideIsawawhitemanunderahatlikeacart-wheelbeckoningpersistentlywithhiswholearm.Examiningtheedgeoftheforestaboveandbelow,IwasalmostcertainIcouldseemovements—humanformsglidinghereandthere.