They had no chief, but seemed to be governed in their actions by the old men. With these Stanley therefore treated for permission to pass through their land. It required great tact to secure this, and still more to obtain the required food. Stanley bore this silent hostility patiently, for though he could have taken all he wanted by force, he wished to avoid all violence. While lingering here, two more of his exhausted company gave out and died, while his sick list swelled up to thirty. Among the latter was Edward Pocoke, whom, with his brother, Stanley had engaged in England to accompany him as attendants. This compelled him to halt for four days, but finding that the hostile feeling of the natives increased the longer he stayed, he determined, dangerous as it was to the sick, especially to Pocoke, to leave. Dysentery and diarrhoea were prevailing to an alarming extent, and rest was especially necessary for these, if they hoped to recover; but he was afraid matters would become dangerously complicated if he remained, and he turned his soldiers into carriers and slung the sick into hammocks. Encouraging them with the prospect of plenty and comfort ahead, he gave the order to march, and they passed out and entered upon a clear, open and well cultivated country. Reaching a village at 10 o'clock they halted, and here, to the great grief of all, young Pocoke breathed his last. In speaking of this sad event, which cast a gloom over the camp, Stanley says: "We had finished the four hundredth mile of our march from the sea and had reached the base of the water-shed, where the trickling streams and infant waters began to flow Nile-ward, when this noble young man died." They buried him at night under a tree, with the stars shining down on the shallow-made grave; Stanley reading the burial service of the Church of England over the body. Far from home and friends in that distant lonely land he sleeps to-day, a simple wooden cross marking his burial place. Stanley sent the following letter home to the young man's father, describing his sickness and death: "KAGEHYI, ON THE VICTORIA NYANZA, "March 4th, 1875. "DEAR SIR: A most unpleasant, because sad, task devolves upon me, for I have the misfortune to have to report to you the death of your son Edward, of typhoid fever. His service with me was brief, but it was long enough for me to know the greatness of your loss, for I doubt that few fathers can boast of such sons as yours. Both Frank and Ted proved themselves sterling men, noble and brave hearts and faithful servants. Ted had endeared himself to the members of the expedition by his amiable nature, his cheerfulness, and by various qualifications which brought him into high favor with the native soldiers of this force.