Then he went to his camel. The terrified brute had risen, and was
tugging madly at its rope. It seemed to recognize him, and be grateful
for his presence, if ever a camel can display gratitude. He gave it the
contents of the water-bag, led it to the top of the cliff, and stood
there a brief space to listen. Some wounded men were calling loudly for
help, and he was sorry for the poor wretches; but there was no response
from their flying comrades. He fixed on a star to guide his course by,
mounted, and rode away to the south, trusting more to his camel's sense
of direction than to his own efforts to keep on the track.
When dawn appeared, a dawn that was glorious to him beyond measure, he
caught sight of a precipitous hill which he remembered passing on the
outward march. Looking back at the first favorable point, he could see
nothing that betokened the presence of Hadendowas, or any other human
beings, in all that far-flung solitude. Were it not for the presence of
the Italian rifle and cartridge-belt, and the blood-stained gun-barrels
resting across his knees, the fierce struggle in that forbidding valley
might have been the delirium of a fever-dream.
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