and would
have camped in it but for the stink. It smelt like a place where the
egg of original sin had turned rotten. Fred said that was sulphur,
with the air of a man who would like it believed that he knew.

At last the enemy must have made a night march, for he passed us, and
the following dawn we heard him shooting to our right in front. That
morning it was simply impossible to make the boys break camp. They
swore that the ghost of Schillingschen had gone in league with the
elephants to destroy us, and they preferred to be shot by us rather
than murdered by witchcraft.

Beyond doubt they would have bolted and left us had that camp not been
an almost perfect one, on rising ground with two great wings of rock
almost enclosing it, and a singing brook galloping through the midst.
There was only one gap by which elephant or man could enter (unless
they should fall from the sky), and they closed that by rolling rocks
and dragging up trunks of trees.

After a useless argument, during which we all lost our tempers and they
were reduced to the verge of panic, we decided to leave them there in
charge of Brown and those porters, except Kazimoto, who had rifles.
The armed men promised faithfully to die beside Brown in the only place
of exit rather than permit a man to pass out; and the rest all agreed
it would be right to shoot them if they attempted to desert; but we
left the camp together--Fred, Will, I, and Kazimoto, with Will's
personal servant and mine bringing up the rear--wondering whether we
should ever see any member or part of the outfit again. It felt like
going to a funeral--or rather from it--more than likely Brown's.

Kazimoto and the other two should have been carrying spare rifles; but
Brown had refused to remain behind unless we left him all but the one
apiece we absolutely needed. We took the boys more from habit than for
any use they were likely to be; and my boy and Will's bolted back to
the camp almost before we were out of sight of it, Kazimoto begging us
to shoot them in the back for cowards.

"Huh!" he grunted. "They are afraid of death. Teach them what death
is!"

We heard Brown challenge them as they approached the camp, and hoped he
thrashed them soundly. But it turned out he did not. He himself had
grown afraid; for the fear of a crowd is contagious, and spreads
nearly as readily from black to white as from white to black. He broke
open a chop-box and consoled himself with whisky.