A little later, Brown made each alternate man lie down and get what
sleep he could just where he was, with a comrade standing over him.
He himself slept so for a little while. But one of the men heard
something move among the hanging tendrils of the baobab, investigated
with his bayonet-point, and managed to transfix a twelve-foot python.
After that there was, not so much desire for sleep. The fakir either
slept with his eyes open or else dispensed with sleep. No one seemed
able to determine which.
When the day grew hotter, and the utterly remorseless Indian sun bore
down on them, and on the aching desolation of the plain and the burnt-
out guardhouse, the fakir still sat unblinking, gazing straight out
in front of him, with eyes that hated but did nothing else. He seemed
to have no time nor thought nor care for anything but hate and the
expression of it.
At noon, three little children came to him, and brought him water
in a small brass bowl, and cooked-up vegetables wrapped in some kind
of leaf. Brown let him have theirs, and bribed the frightened children
to go and bring water for the men and himself.
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