That makes how many? Ten already, and there seem to be three tent
loads, one bed load, one chair and table load, one lantern load, two
miscellaneous loads, two cook loads, one personal box, and fifteen chop
boxes-total twenty-six, plus the staff, as above, thirty-six. Why all
the rest of the army?

Very simple: these thirty-six men have, according to regulation, seven
tents, and certain personal effects, and they must have "potio" or a
ration of one and a half pounds per diem. These things must be carried
by more men.

"I see," murmurs the American, crushed, "and these more men have more
tents and more potio, which must also be carried. It's like the House
that Jack Built."

So our American concludes still once again that the other fellow knows
his own game, and starts out. He learns he has what is called a "modest
safari"; and spares a fleeting wonder as to what a really elaborate
safari must be. The procession takes the field. He soon sees the value
of the four askaris-the necessity of whom he has secretly doubted.
Without their vigorous seconding the headman would have a hard time
indeed. Also, when he observes the labour of tent-making, packing,
washing, and general service performed by his tent boy, he abandons the
notion that that individual could just as well take care of the horse as
well, especially as the horse has to have all his grass cut and brought
to him. At evening our friend has a hot bath, a long cool fizzly drink
of lime juice and soda; he puts on the clean clothes laid out for him,
assumes soft mosquito boots, and sits down to dinner. This is served
to him in courses, and on enamel ware. Each course has its proper-sized
plate and cutlery. He starts with soup, goes down through tinned
whitebait or other fish, an entree, a roast, perhaps a curry, a sweet,
and small coffee. He is certainly being "done well," and he enjoys the
comfort of it.

There comes a time when he begins to wonder a little. It is all very
pleasant, of course, and perhaps very necessary; they all tell him it
is. But, after all, it is a little galling to the average man to think
that of him. Your Englishman doesn't mind that; he enjoys being taken
care of: but the sportsman of American training likes to stand on his
own feet as far as he is able and conditions permit. Besides, it is
expensive. Besides that, it is a confounded nuisance, especially when
potio gives out and more must be sought, near or far. Then, if he is
wise, he