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 frowning pile of Elgon that hove its great hump against a blue sky and domineered over the world to the northward.

There were plenty of villages, well filled with timid spear-men and hard-working naked wives.  Now that we had trade goods in plenty there was no difficulty at all about making friends with them.  They had two obsessing fears:  that it might not rain in proper season, and “the people” as they called themselves would “have too much hunger”; and that the men from the mountain might come and take their babies.

“Which men, from what mountain?”

“Bad men, from very high up on that mountain!” They pointed toward Elgon, shuddered, and looked away.

“Why should they take your babies?”

“They eat them!”

“What makes you think that?”

“We know it!  They come!  Once in so often they come and fight with us, and take away, and kill and eat our fat babies!”

All the inhabitants of all the villages agreed.  None of them had ever ventured on the mountain; but all agreed that very bad black men came raiding from the upper slopes at uncertain intervals.  There was no variation of the tale.