But Harry could sleep no more.
The sentries were being relieved. Raggy had just turned up, and Somali Jack was about to turn in.
“Let us take a stroll down by the camp-fire,” said Harry. “I feel I must stretch my legs, night though it be.”
Together they went as far as the old camping ground, and were about to leave when a pained and weary groan fell on Harry’s ear.
He soon discovered whence it issued. From the lips of a poor half-naked dark figure, lying stabbed and dying on the grass.
All this he could see by the light of moon and stars. He sat down beside the poor creature and took his head on his lap. The white eyes rolled up towards him, the lips were parted in a grateful smile.
One word was all he said or could say.
“What is it, Jack?” asked Harry. “Interpret, please.”
“It only says thanks, sahib.”
“Run for water, Raggy.”