convinces people. … It 's not what's true, it 's what convinces."
Babcock smiled oddly as he said this.
"He didn't publish it … and" (this more slowly) "I will tell you what it was, for it impressed me. He came into my room early one morning—I knew him well enough—and he told me the whole story of Adowa. The telegraph hadn't brought it, Higginson" (shaking a finger). "We hadn't heard of it. No one in Europe, no one in Egypt. The fight was … well, 'lowing for longitude … not twelve hours old. And, mind you, he didn't give a sort of hint; he didn't work your telepathy stunt." Babcock began to emphasise. "He described the whole thing quite clearly: with little men and bushes and hot sand standing clear, like three or four little coloured pictures. Eh? 'Coloured'. Painted. You could smell the heat. And he saw a sort of local storm on the scrub in the valley; he did!—least, he said he did! He saw the poor fellows left behind—the wounded, you know: he saw the faces of the torturers." Babcock stopped a second and changed his tone. He looked unpleasantly in earnest. "He told me I might make money over it," he went on. "I was in
