"I don't know," said the other dubiously. "I ain't superstitious." He paused and lighted a cigarette.
"Neither am I," said O'Grady.
"I got one of my socks on wrong side out this morning," the man volunteered thoughtfully.
"You didn't take it off again, did you?" inquired O'Grady.
"No."
"That's right; you shouldn't."
Word was passed back along the line that Major White and two askaris had been killed. O'Grady cursed. "The major was a swell guy," he said. "He was worth all the lousy coons in Africa. I hope I get a chance to get some of 'em for this."
The porters were nervous, frightened, sullen. Kwamudi came up to O'Grady. "Black boys not go on," he said. "They turn back—go home."
"They better stick with us," O'Grady told him. "If they turn back they'll all be killed; they won't have a lot of us guys with rifles to fight for 'em. Tomorrow we ought to be out of this Bansuto country. You better advise 'em to stick, Kwamudi."
Kwamudi grumbled and walked away.