RIDING THE PLAINS. 193 



an interval, the subconsciousness finds the row 

 still going on, inexcusable and unabated, it arouses 

 the victim to staring exasperation. That was our 

 case here. Those natives should have turned in 

 for sleep after a reasonable amount of pow-wow. 

 They did nothing of the kind. On the contrary, 

 I dragged reluctantly back to consciousness and 

 the realization that they had quite happily 

 settled down to make a night of it. I glanced 

 across the little tent to where Captain D. lay 

 on his cot. He was staring straight upward, his 

 eyes wide open. 



After a few seconds he slipped out softly and 

 silently. Our little fire had sunk to embers. A 

 dozen sticks radiated from the centre of coals. 

 Each made a firebrand with one end cool to the 

 grasp. Captain D. hurled one of these at the 

 devoted and unconscious group. 



It whirled through the air and fell plunk in the 

 other fire, scattering sparks and coals in all direc- 

 tions. The second was under way before the 

 first had landed. It hit a native with similar 

 results, plus astonished and grieved lan- 

 guage. The rest followed in rapid-magazine- 

 fire. Every one hit its mark fair and square. 

 The air was full of sparks exploding in all direc- 

 tions; the brush was full of Wakamba, their 



7 



