hen, and have framed a theory. Perhaps you can guess
what it is without my needing to write it down.

FUEL OF FIRE

I was lucky to get a lift. We had risen before the moon took to
her bed, and the sun had left his. We were driving through green
woodlands when the light grew clear around us. A little while ago
their graceful trees had been ruddy or bronze doubtless. Now it
was the turn of the hill-trees on the great kopje that we passed
within a mile, to grow bronzed and to redden. For the month of
November had only just come in. We outspanned in a valley where
the new green of the grass had come already. No doubt a month ago
it had looked very black and fire-scathed. Now the showers had
brought kind healing and amendment. We made our morning Memorial
together (being all of us Christians bound on some sort of a
Christian pilgrimage), and after that we breakfasted and smoked
at ease while the mules grazed close by, and the driver boiled
his pot, and fed it with meal, and stirred and ladled out, and
ate in the fullness of time. My heart was very thankful. How much
better and kindlier one's lot seemed now fallen as it was once
again in this fair ground of a country at peace in Wartime. This
countryside pleased me ever so much better than British East or
German East this Mashonaland. There to north I remembered without
enthusiasm the tropical passions of the elements, I remembered
rather miserably some of the things that a state of war had
meant.

After breakfast, there was no hurry about our inspanning. But
when we had once got off we were soon up level with the farmhouse
on the hill's shoulder. We halted for friendship's sake, and
waited for the cups of coffee that we were assured would be soon
ready. Our host was Dutch-looking, but seemed British; I thought
rather narrowly British in his sympathies. He discussed the War
keenly and thoughtfully with my companion. He had two brothers in
German East, I knew, and he was soon asking me about them. But
our paths up that way had not converged. I could only tell him by
hearsay about the main advance, wherein they had been sharing,
and I had not. As I told, a dark handsome, gentle-voiced woman
brought our coffee out. Soon a shy little girl put her head round
the corner of the stoep, and withdrew' it again. I jumped down to
greet her. Then she agreed to come and shake hands with us both.
Her father colored up, and smiled as he told me of a great
scheme. A lady in town