AFRICAN CAMP FIRES 



began to hear the long, rolling crash of thunder. 

 Overhead the stars, already dimmed, were suddenly- 

 blotted from existence. Then came the rain; in a 

 literal deluge; as though the god of floods had turned 

 over an entire reservoir with one twist of his mighty- 

 hand. Our fire went out instantly; the whole world 

 went out with it. We lay on our canvas cots unable 

 to see a foot beyond our tent opening; unable to 

 hear anything but the insistent, terrible drumming 

 over our heads; unable to think of anything through 

 the tumult of waters. As a man's body might strug- 

 gle from behind a waterfall through the torrents, 

 so our imaginations, half-drowned, managed dimly 

 to picture forth little bits — the men huddled close 

 in their tiny tents, their cowled blankets over their 

 heads. All the rest of the universe had gone. 



After a time the insistent beat and rush of waters 

 began to wear through our patience. We willed 

 that this wracking tumult should cease; we willed 

 it with all the force that was in us. Then, as this 

 proved vain, we too humped our spiritual backs, 

 cowled our souls with patience, and waited dumbly 

 for the force of the storm to spend itself. Our 

 faculties were quite as effectually drowned out by 

 the unceasing roar and crash of the waters as our 

 bodily comfort would have been had we lacked the 

 protection of our tent. 



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