I now observed that Bellaal was standing very near me on my right, in advance of the men who had risen from the ground, and employed himself in eying me from head to foot with the most determined insolence. The fellow had his gun in his hand, and he was telegraphing by looks with those who were standing near him, while not one of the others rose from the ground, although close to me. Pretending not to notice Bellaal, who was now, as I had expected, once more the ringleader, for the third time I ordered the men to rise immediately and to load the camels. Not a man moved; but the fellow Bellaal marched up to me, and looking me straight in the face dashed the butt-end of his gun in defiance on the ground and led the mutiny. “Not a man shall go with you! Go where you like with Ibrahim, but we won’t follow you nor move a step farther. The men shall not load the camels; you may employ the ‘niggers’ to do it, but not us.”
I looked at this mutinous rascal for a moment. This was the outburst of the conspiracy, and the threats and insolence that I had been forced to pass over for the sake of the expedition all rushed before me. “Lay down your gun!” I thundered, “and load the camels!” “I won’t,” was his reply. “Then stop here!” I answered, at the same time lashing out as quick as lightning with my right hand upon his jaw.