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.
He rolled over in a heap, his gun flying some yards from his hand, and the late ringleader lay apparently insensible among the luggage, while several of his friends ran to him and played the part of the Good Samaritan.

Following up on the moment the advantage I had gained by establishing a panic, I seized my rifle and rushed into the midst of the wavering men, catching first one by the throat and then another, and dragging them to the camels, which I insisted upon their immediately loading.

All except three, who attended to the ruined ringleader, mechanically obeyed.