"My brave men," he thought to himself, and scrambled up the slope to
meet them.
He was right. These were his men, no less than twenty of them, for with
a fewer number they did not dare to face the ghosts which they believed
haunted the valley after nightfall. Presently the light from the lantern
which one of them carried (not Mahomet, whose sickness had increased too
suddenly to enable him to come) fell upon the tall form of Smith, who,
dressed in his white working clothes, was leaning against a rock. Down
went the lantern, and with a howl of terror the brave company turned and
fled.
"Sons of cowards!" roared Smith after them, in his most vigorous Arabic.
"It is I, your master, not an _afreet_."
They heard, and by degrees crept back again. Then he perceived that in
order to account for their number each of them carried some article.
Thus one had the bread, another the lantern, another a tin of sardines,
another the sardine-opener, another a box of matches, another a bottle
of beer, and so on. As even thus there were not enough things to go
round, two of them bore his big coat between them, the first holding it
by the sleeves and the second by the tail as though it were a stretcher.
"Put them down," said Smith, and they obeyed.
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