You'll neither of you sleep in your beds to-night. Another sell for the mosquitoes, isn't it? I propose to break up the camp and start marching as soon as the moon goes down. DICK. I say, it's a bit thick after a day like this. We're all so done up that we shan't be able to go a mile. ALEC. Nonsense, you will have had two hours' rest. DOCTOR. But some of those fellows who are wounded can't possibly be moved. ALEC. They must! DOCTOR. I won't answer for their lives. ALEC. We must take the risk. Our only chance is to make a bold dash for it, and we can't leave the wounded here. DICK. I suppose there's going to be a deuce of a row? ALEC. [_Grimly._] There is. DICK. Your companions seldom have a chance to complain of the monotony of their existence, Alec. What are you going to do now? ALEC. At this moment, I'm going to fill my pipe. [_There is a pause while_ ALEC _fills and lights his pipe_. DICK. I gather from the general amiability of your demeanour that we're in a rather tight place? ALEC. Tighter than any of your patent-leather boots, my friend. DICK. [_Gravely._] Have we any chance of getting through, old man? ALEC. [_Lightly._] Oh, I don't know. There's always a chance. DICK. Don't grin at me in that irritating fashion. ALEC. You must wish you were treading the light fantastic toe in a London ball-room, Dick. DICK. Frankly I do.... I suppose we're going to fight again? ALEC. Like Kilkenny cats. DICK. [_Briskly._] Well, at all events that's some comfort. If I am going to be done out of my night's rest, I should like to take it out of some one. ALEC. If things turn out all right, we shall have come near finishing the job, and there won't be much more slave-raiding in this part of Africa. DICK. And if things don't turn out all right? ALEC. Why, then I'm afraid the tea-tables of Mayfair will be deprived of your scintillating repartee forever. DICK. Well, I've had a very good time in my life. I've loved a little, I've looked at some good pictures, read some thundering fine books, and I've worked and played. If I can only account for a few more of those damned scoundrels before I die, I shouldn't think I had much to complain of. ALEC. [_Smiling._] You're a philosopher, Dick. DICK. Doesn't the possibility of an extremely unpleasant demise tempt you to a few appropriate reflections? ALEC. I don't know that it does. I'm a bit of a fatalist, and my theory is that when my time comes nothing can help me, but at the bottom of my heart I can't resist the conviction that I shan't die till I let myself. DOCTOR. Well, I must go and put things in order. I'll bandage those fellows up, and I hope they'll stand the jolting. ALEC. What about Perkins? DOCTOR. Lord knows! I'll try and keep him quiet with chloral. ALEC. You needn't say anything about striking camp. I don't propose that any one should know till a quarter of an hour before we start. DOCTOR.