And I remember little more, for I, too, swooned and fell from the saddle.
The shadows darkened and grew one into another.

Hira Singh sat drawing silently in the dust, with his injured feet stretched out in front of him.

A monkey in the giant tree above us shook down a little shower of twigs and dirt.

A trumpet blared.

There began much business of closing tents and reducing the camp to superhuman tidiness.
"So, sahib," he said at last, "they come to carry me in.