THE LAST FRONTIER 



fire in all the glory of a regained savagery. The 

 contrast of the red with his red bronze or black skin, 

 the freedom and grace of his movements, the up- 

 right carriage of his fine figure, and the flickering 

 savagery playing in his eyes are very effective. 



Our men occupied their leisure variously and hap- 

 pily. A great deal of time they spent before their 

 tiny fires roasting meat and talking. This talk was 

 almost invariably of specific personal experiences. 

 They bathed frequently and with pleasure. They 

 slept. Between times they fashioned ingenious 

 affairs of ornament or use: bows and arrows, throw- 

 ing clubs, snuff-boxes of the tips of antelope horns, 

 bound prettily with bright wire, wooden swords 

 beautifully carved in exact imitation of the white 

 man's service weapon, and a hundred other such 

 affairs. At this particular time also they were much 

 occupied in making sandals against the thorns. These 

 were flat soles of rawhide, the edges pounded to 

 make them curl up a trifle over the foot, fastened by 

 thongs; very ingenious, and very useful. To their 

 task they brought song. The labour of Africa is 

 done to song; weird minor chanting starting high in 

 the falsetto to trickle unevenly down to the lower 

 registers, or where the matter is one of serious effort, 

 an antiphony of solo and chorus. From all parts of 

 the camp come these softly modulated chantings, 



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