CHAPTER XII.
There were three friends that buried the fourth, The mould in his mouth and the dust in his eyes And they went south and east, and north,-- The strong man fights, but the sick man dies.
There were three friends that spoke of the dead,-- The strong man fights, but the sick man dies .-- 'And would he were with us now,' they said, 'The sun in our face and the wind in our eyes.' -- Ballad.
THE NILGHAI was angry with Torpenhow.

Dick had been sent to bed,--blind men are ever under the orders of those who can see,--and since he had returned from the Park had fluently sworn at Torpenhow because he was alive, and all the world because it was alive and could see, while he, Dick, was dead in the death of the blind, who, at the best, are only burdens upon their associates.

Torpenhow had said something about a Mrs.
Gummidge, and Dick had retired in a black fury to handle and re-handle three unopened letters from Maisie.
The Nilghai, fat, burly, and aggressive, was in Torpenhow's rooms.
Behind him sat the Keneu, the Great War Eagle, and between them lay a large map embellished with black-and-white-headed pins.
'I was wrong about the Balkans,' said the Nilghai.

'But I'm not wrong about this business.

The whole of our work in the Southern Soudan must be done over again.