12 THE TRIBES ON MY FRONTIER. 



infest our borders discover man's use in the scheme of the 

 universe. He builds houses to shelter them from the rain. 

 And the first to make this discovery are the rats. In dry 

 weather most of these gentry live out of doors, but the first 

 heavy, steady, soaking rain is the signal for a general in- 

 vasion. First of all in the evening, after dinner, I spy one 

 perched in the Venetian blinds of the window, and it spies 

 me ; so my machinations against its life come to naught. 

 The same night as I lie awake, dreamily anathematizing a 

 mosquito, while the measured music of the frogs 



" Beats time to nothing in my head," 



noises from the dressing-table invade my ear. First there 

 is a mysterious scraping sound, which old experience tells 

 me is the candle being chewed ; next the eau-de-Cologne 

 bottle and Kemp's Equatorial Hair Douche are upset ; and 

 now the pincushion is being vigorously disembowelled. 

 This ceases, and presently I am conscious that something 

 is scrambling energetically up the mosquito curtains. I 

 launch out wildly, and a heavy body falls to the ground with 

 a flop. Within half a minute a fierce rasping noise comes 

 from the foot of the door; for doors are intended to facilitate 

 passage from one room to another, and the construction of 



