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"Ah," he said, when we were out of earshot, "the fever! I thought so.
The Lion has it badly, but he is young, and he may live. As for the Pig,
his attack is not so bad; it is the 'little fever' which he has; that
always begins with pains across the back, it will spend itself upon his
fat."
"Can they go on, my father?" I asked.
"Nay, my son, they must go on. If they stop here they will certainly
die; also, they will be better in the litters than on the ground. By
to-night, if all goes well, we shall be across the marsh and in good
air. Come, let us lift them into the litters and start, for it is very
bad to stand still in this morning fog. We can eat our meal as we go."
This we accordingly did, and with a heavy heart I once more set out upon
our strange journey. For the first three hours all went as well as
could be expected, and then an accident happened that nearly lost us the
pleasure of the company of our venerable friend Billali, whose litter
was leading the cavalcade.


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