#Chapter146
The tall savannah grass waves in the breeze as the man moves steadily across the veldt, the herd of buffalo snort and the bulls tramp the ground as he moves past them. He had seen the flames lighting up the early morning sky, and knew that a village was there, but he was not one to seek the company of others and preferred solitude in his wandering. The people of the valley called him mad, and would throw stones at him if he were to venture into a village and cause him to flee once more out onto the vast African veldt.
The man in question is a white man, who goes by the name of Harry Parker, who in a previous life had been a pastor at the mission. That is before he fell in the chapel and his head connected with the edge of a wooden pew. On waking up he found himself in unfamiliar surroundings, not knowing who he was, or what he was so in the dead of night he had slipped out of the clinic, dressed in a hospital gown and wondered off into the bush.