ey're not happy; yell ten times more when they are. Besides, they
smudge their faces with jam. Damn Hollingworth! I won't go there."

This statement was received by the other with all serenity and without
reply. He knew his chum's little weakness, therefore knew that the bait
thrown out would be not merely nibbled at but swallowed, the
objectionable progeny notwithstanding. So he continued pulling on his
long boots and otherwise completing his not extravagant toilet with
complete equanimity. And then Mafuta, who at length had got the fire to
burn, came along with some steaming coffee.

"That's better," pronounced Tarrant, having got outside the invigorating
brew. "Wonder if there are any crocs in these water puddles, Moseley?
I'm going to tub."

"Tub? Man alive, we're just ready to start. What on earth do you want
to tub now for?"

"I thought you said Hollingworth had a pretty wife," tranquilly rejoined
the other, digging into his kitbag for a towel. "You can't make
acquaintance with a pretty woman when you're in an untubbed state, you
know."

Moseley roared.

"Oh, skittles!" he said. "You can tub when you get there."

"I believe you're right; and the water looks dashed cold at this time of
day."

"And I thought you said you wouldn't go there."

"Did I? Oh, well, I suppose I must if you do. It wouldn't look well,
would it?"

"Why, of course not. Hurry up now. The boys want to load up your kit."

The pack-donkeys had been driven up, and the horses stood ready saddled.
In an incredibly short space of time all personal baggage and camp
impedimenta had been removed and stowed upon the backs of the patient
little Neddies--in the long run and the land of horse-sickness and
"fly," perhaps more serviceable all round than that noble animal the
horse. And then, as the first arrowy gleams of the sun began to warm
the world, they started from their night's camp.

It was pleasant country that through which they now rode. Dewdrops
still hung from the sprays of the feathery acacias, gleaming like
diamonds in the rising sunlight; and the thorn-brake was musical with
bird voices, or the clucking of bush-pheasants scuttling alarmed amid
the long grass and undergrowth; and here and there a troop of
guinea-fowl darting away with the rapidity of spiders at the sound of
hoofstrokes, as the wayfarers wended their way along the edge of a
native "land." Kraals, too, the conical roofs of the huts shining
yellow