The infected were carried to a special camp set apart and guarded, and this work was executed almost entirely by the three Englishmen, aided by a few natives who had had the disease. For three days these men went about with their lives literally in their hands, tending the sick, cheering the despondent, frightening the cowards into some semblance of self-respect and dignity. And during these three days, wherein they never took an organised meal or three consecutive hours of rest, Joseph, Meredith, and Oscard rose together to that height of manhood where master and servant, educated man and common soldier, stand equal before their Maker. Owing to the promptness with which measures had been taken for isolating the affected, the terrible sickness did not spread. In all eleven men were stricken, and of these ten died within three days. The eleventh recovered, but eventually remained at Msala. It was only on the evening of the third day that Jack and Guy found time to talk of the future. They had never left Durnovo's house, and on this third day they found time to dine together. “Do you think,” Oscard asked bluntly, when they were left alone to smoke, “that Durnovo knew what was the matter?” “I am afraid that I have not the slightest doubt of it,” replied Jack lightly. “And bolted?” suggested Oscard. “And bolted.” Guy Oscard gave a contemptuous little laugh, which had a deeper insult in it than he could have put into words. “And what is to be done?” he inquired. “Nothing. People in books would mount on a very high pinnacle of virtue and cast off Mr. Durnovo and all his works; but it is much more practical to make what use we can of him. That is a worldly-wise, nineteenth-century way of looking at it; we cannot do without him.” The contemplativeness of nicotine was upon Guy Oscard. “Umph!” he grunted. “It is rather disgusting,” he said, after a pause; “I hate dealing with cowards.” “And I with fools. For everyday use, give me a coward by preference.” “Yes, there is something in that. Still, I'd throw up the whole thing if--” “So would I,” said Jack, turning sharply in his chair, “if--” Oscard laughed curtly and waited. “If,” continued Jack, “I could. But I am more or less bound to go on now. Such chances as this do not turn up every day; I cannot afford to let it go by. Truth is, I told--some one who shall be nameless--that I would make money to keep her in that state of life wherein her godfathers, etc., have placed her; and make that money I must.” “That is about my position too,” said Guy Oscard, somewhat indistinctly, owing to the fact that he habitually smoked a thick-stemmed pipe. “Is it? I'm glad of that. It gives us something in common to work for.”