With two rifles and some pliant tendrils a litter was soon constructed, and reclining on this Tom headed the march home. He was tired and disappointed; the men were crestfallen: some asked why the m’sungu did not pursue the askaris. But Tom was in no condition to follow up the enemy, even if his reason had favoured the idea. He could only guess at what had happened: that the lieutenant, alarmed by the distant shouts, had gone forward, discovered the dead Arab, inferred that Reinecke also had come to grief, and concluding that the game was up, had withdrawn his men hurriedly and in something of a panic. To pursue in darkness would be folly. Tom consoled himself for his disappointment with the reflection that, after all, more prisoners would have been a nuisance--so many more mouths to feed, and a burden to the guards. The homeward journey was slow and laborious: only by the touch of their bare feet could the Wahehe distinguish in the darkness the tracks they had made as they came. Tom slumbered a part of the way, and when, at a late hour, they regained the nullah, he waited only to hear that nothing had disturbed the peace and to arrange for Reinecke’s accommodation during the night, before seeking his hut and throwing himself, worn out, upon the mattress of plaited grass which some of the women had made for him. Next morning, after ten hours’ unbroken sleep, he rose, a little stiffly, to face the work of another day. "First job, to dispose of Reinecke," he thought. The German was in a furious temper. "You wish to kill me," he cried, when Tom came to him. "You put me in a wretched native hut, without a fire, without blankets, to perish of cold, to be struck with ague. As a prisoner of war--you call it war?--I demand proper treatment, according to international law." "I don’t know anything about international law," said Tom; "common law and common sense would set you dangling from a tree, I suspect. But I’m not your judge. While you’re here you’ll be treated like the other prisoners. You’ll join them on the island yonder." "I must have a separate hut. In Germany officers and men are never lodged together: it is forbidden." "We are not in Germany," said Tom, curtly. "The hut is large enough to hold you all: there’s no room on the island for another, even if time could be spared to build it. If you feel contaminated by the company of fellow Germans you can spend your leisure in making for yourself a partition: there’s plenty of material on the island. You can then live in your own first-class compartment: the men will probably prefer it."