To begin
with I did not know how the twenty bearers would behave under fire.
They might be seized with panic and rush about, in which case I
determined to let them out of the /boma/ to take their chance, for
panic is a catching thing.
A worse matter was our rather awkward position. There were a good many
trees round the camp among which an attacking force could take cover.
But what I feared much more than this, or even than the reedy banks of
the stream along which they could creep out of reach of our bullets,
was a sloping stretch of land behind us, covered with thick grass and
scrub and rising to a crest about two hundred yards away. Now if the
Arabs got round to this crest they would fire straight into our /boma/
and make it untenable. Also if the wind were in their favour, they
might burn us out or attack under the clouds of smoke. As a matter of
fact, by the special mercy of Providence, none of these things
happened, for a reason which I will explain presently.
In the case of a night, or rather a dawn attack, I have always found
that hour before the sky begins to lighten very trying indeed.
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