140 THE GREAT THIRST LAND. 



" You're not asleep ? " said a gentle voice. 



" No, no that is/' endeavouring to pretend that 

 if not actually asleep I was next door to it. 



" I can't sleep," said the speaker ; " it's no use, I 

 have turned every way, and, tired as I am, I cannot 

 sleep." 



Inhuman monster that I am, I was delighted that 

 some one else was situated in the same disagreeable 

 position as myself. 



" Can't you, though ? " said I, pitying his misfor- 

 tunes, not acknowledging my own ; " what can be the 

 cause ? " 



" Mosquitoes, I think." 



" No, I have not heard any." 



" Neither have I," said my friend. 



So I got up and lit the lamp, quite out of com- 

 miseration for him, of course, and oh ! oh ! oh ! the 

 whole interior of the wagon was swarming with millions 

 of the most diminutive gnats. They were on the bed- 

 clothes, on the wagon roof, and when I looked at my 

 legs and arms I commenced to think that instead of a 

 white man I was a pepper-and-salt-coloured one. 



We both sat up and entered into conversation, and 

 were jolly on the subject, it was such a good joke. 

 Scratch myself ? No ; a man of my calibre is above such 

 weakness ; but human patience could stand it no longer. 

 I resolved to have one scratch ; I did one, two, three 

 scratches, and the remainder of an hour was one unin- 

 terrupted scratch. At this time a happy thought struck 

 me I will get the rum and bathe my whole body with 

 it. I did so, but the wretches were not only fond of the 

 human species, but also fond of what the human species 

 is partial to. I did not wait to see if I had been con- 



