committed tho unpermissible offense.
Fred might laugh at Will all he chose; so might I; either of us might
laugh Fred out of countenance; or they might howl derisively at me.
But Brown, camp-fellow though he was, and not bad fellow though he was,
was not of our inner-guard. He might laugh with, never at, especially
when catastrophe brought inner feelings to the surface.

"Take the shot-gun if you care to," Fred told him, as he passed Will
the rifle. "I'll unlock the chop-box presently, and let you have some
whisky!"

This last was the cruellest cut, but it did Brown good. When Fred kept
his promise and produced a whole bottle from the locked-up store Brown
refused to touch it, instead insulting him like a good man, cursing
him--whisky, whiskers, whims and all, using language that Fred
good-naturedly assured him was very unladylike.

Before dawn the boys, peering through the gaps between the camp-fires,
to distinguish lions if they could and give the alarm before another
could jump in and do damage, swore they saw Schillingschen, rifle in
hand, stalking among the shadows. Nothing could convince them they had
not seen him. They said he stooped like a man in a dream--that big
beard was matted, and his shirt torn--that he strode out of darkness
into darkness like a man whose mind was gone. We purposely laughed at
their story, to see if we could shake them in it. But they laughed at
our incredulity.

"My eyes are good eyes" answered Kazimoto. "What I see I see! Why
should I invent lies?"

It was not pleasant to imagine Schillingschen, mind gone or not, with
or without three cartridges and a rifle, prowling about our camp
awaiting opportunity to do murder.

"Come to think of it," said Fred, "we've no proof he hasn't a lot more
than three cartridges. It's hardly likely, but he might have cached
some in reserve near where we found his camp pitched. More unlikely
things have happened. But the bally man must go to sleep some time.
He seems to have been awake ever since he escaped. We'll be off at
dawn, and either tire him out or leave him!"

"I'll bet he's got one or more of those donkeys," I answered. "He'll
not be so easy to tire."

"Suppose you and Will go and sleep," suggested Fred. "Otherwise we'll
all go crazy, and all get left behind!"

There did not remain much time for sleeping. The porters, being used
to the tents and their loads now, got away to a good start, heading
straight toward the frow