That night the wagon was long in returning from Sewell's. When it finally arrived, the water in one of the drums had a strange taste.
"It's bad," said Loveless.
Immediately the affair assumed grave proportions. That particular drum became the most important object in camp. A feeling akin to personal animosity sprang up against it. For a time the merits and demerits of the case were seriously discussed, and some of the porters gathered there and stared stupidly at the wagon load of water.
"I'll tell you what it is," said Ulyate; "it's the weeds they've used as a stopper."
The weeds in question were inspected closely and various judgments passed, and some of the men were reminded of other times in other lands when the water had turned bad on their hands.
Means drew a cupful and sipped deliberately.
"It might be the weeds," he finally remarked. "It's not really bad—only tastes bad."
So in the end we begged the question by setting the drum aside and deciding to use it only if we had to.
But there were other matters to be determined that evening.
In the Colonel's opinion the time had come for us to try to find a trail at the carcass of the rhino, and the talk lasted far into the night. When finally evolved, the plan of campaign was simple.