. . .But he neither heard nor saw, and the others had to carry him to his tent, and I heard him wailing in the night as long as I lay awake. Yes, Death is an awful guest. We could hardly realize that he had so suddenly entered our peaceful camp.

I had a long conversation with Robert in my tent, and old Guffaru was sent for to receive my orders for the funeral. The Mohammedans were to watch in turn beside the body through the night. Early next morning the permission of the authorities would be obtained for the choice of a burying-place, and then the interment would take place.

At midnight I paid a last visit to my excellent, faithful caravan leader, who had fallen at his post in the prime of life. He lay long and straight, swathed in a shroud and a frieze rug, in the middle of his tent. At his head burned his oil-lamp, slightly flickering in the draught. The dead watch of five men sat mute and motionless, but rose when I entered. We uncovered his face; it . . . Read More