men leap out of cover for the mere sake of defiance, and fall shot
through and smashed by a score of bullets. I saw a number of
Bulgarians in the hands of the surgeon, several quite frightfully
wounded, refuse chloroform merely to impress the English onlooker,
some of their injuries I could scarcely endure to see, and I watched
a line of infantry men go on up a hill and keep on quite manifestly
cheerful with men dropping out and wriggling, and men dropping out
and lying still until every other man was down. . . . Not one man
would have gone up that hill alone, without onlookers. . . ."

Rowe, the lion hunter, told Benham that only on one occasion in his
life had he given way to ungovernable fear, and that was when he was
alone. Many times he had been in fearful situations in the face of
charging lions and elephants, and once he had been bowled over and
carried some distance by a lion, but on none of these occasions had
fear demoralized him. There was no question of his general pluck.
But on one occasion he was lost in rocky waterless country in
Somaliland. He strayed out in the early morning while his camels
were being loaded, followed some antelope too far, and lost his
bearings. He looked up expecting to see the sun on his right hand
and found it on his left. He became bewildered. He wandered some
time and then fired three signal shots and got no reply. Then
losing his head he began shouting. He had only four or five more
cartridges and no water-bottle. His men were accustomed to his
going on alone, and might not begin to remark upon his absence until
sundown. . . . It chanced, however, that one of the shikari noted
the water-bottle he had left behind and organized a hunt for him.

Long before they found him he had passed to an extremity of terror.
The world had become hideous and threatening, the sun was a pitiless