RIDING THE PLAINS 



grasp. Captain Duirs 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 ditto ditto results 

 plus astonished and grieved language. The rest 

 followed in rapid-magazine fire. Every one hit its 

 mark fair and square. The air was full of sparks 

 exploding in all directions; the brush was full of 

 Wakamba, their blankets flapping in the breeze 

 of their going. The convention was adjourned. 

 There fell the sucking vacuum of a great silence. 

 Captain Duirs, breathing righteous wrath, flopped 

 heavily and determinedly down on his cot. I caught 

 a faint snicker from the tent next door. 



Captain Duirs sighed deeply, turned over, and 

 prepared to sleep. Then one of the dogs uprose I 

 think it was Ben stretched himself, yawned, ap- 

 proached deliberately, and began to drink from the 

 canvas bathtub just outside. He drank lap lap 

 lap lap lap for a very long time. It seemed in- 

 credible that any mere dog or canvas bathtub 

 could hold so much water. The steady repetition 

 of this sound long after it should logically have 

 ceased was worse than the shenzi gathering around 

 the fire. Each lap should have been the last, but 



