AFRICAN CAMP FIRES 



with a narrow floorless veranda. There was no 

 platform. Drawing close on all sides was the in- 

 terminable thorn scrub. Later, when the veil of 

 rain had been drawn aside, we found that Tsavo, 

 perched on a side hill, looked abroad over a wide 

 prospect. For the moment all we saw was a dark, 

 dismal, dripping station wherein was no sign of life. 



We were beginning to get chilly, and we wanted 

 very much some tea, fire, a chance to dry, pending 

 the arrival of our safari. We jerked open the door 

 and peered into the inky interior 



"Babu!" yelled F., "Babu!" 



From an inner back room came the faint answer 

 in most precise English. 



"I can-not come; I am pray-ing." 



There followed the sharp, quick tinkle of a little 

 bell — the Indian manner of calling upon the Lord's 

 attention. 



We both knew better than to buck the Insti- 

 tutions of the East; so we waited with what 

 patience we had, listening to the intermittent tink- 

 ling of the little bell. At the end of fully fifteen 

 minutes the devotee appeared. He proved to be 

 a mild, deprecating little man, very eager to help, 

 but without resources. He was a Hindu, and lived 

 mainly on tea and rice. The rice was all out, but 

 he expected more on the night train. There was no 



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