AFRICAN CAMP FIRES 



but he acted as though always ready to bolt. If 

 there were twenty easy right methods of doing a 

 thing and one difficult wrong method, Herbert would 

 get the latter every time. No amount of experience 

 could teach him the logic of our simplest ways. One 

 evening he brought a tumbler of mixed water and 

 condensed milk. Harold Hill glanced into the 

 receptacle. 



"Stir it," he commanded briefly. 



Herbert Spencer obeyed. We talked about some- 

 thing else. Some five or ten minutes later one 

 of us noticed that Herbert was still stirring, and 

 called attention to the fact. When the latter saw 

 our eyes were on him he speeded up until the spoon 

 fairly rattled in the tumbler. Then when he thought 

 our attention had relaxed again, he relaxed also his 

 efforts. The spoon travelled slower and slower in 

 its dreamy circle. We amused ourselves for some 

 time thus. Then we became so weak from laughter 

 that we fell backward off our seats and some one 

 gasped a command that Herbert cease. 



I am afraid, after a little, that we rather enjoyed 

 mildly tormenting poor Herbert Spencer. He tried 

 so hard, and looked so scared, and was so unbeliev- 

 ably stupid! Almost always he had to pick his 

 orders word by word from a vast amount of high- 

 flown, unnecessary English. 



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