CHAPTER VII 



ANOTHER UNCOMFORTABLE NIGHT 



I see a man's life is a tedious one. I have tired myself; and 

 for two nights together have made the ground my bed 



Cymbeline 



You can imagine with what joy I looked forward to a 

 good night's rest after the previous twelve hours' vigil, 

 and therefore it is the more amusing to remember that, 

 as Fate would have it, I had an even more occupied 

 time during the midnight hours than ever. We had 

 started to march, after returning to camp with the 

 wart-hog, as we had news of splendid " khubbah " 

 some miles off, given to us by a Somali who came in 

 riding his unkempt pony. The Somali ponies, by the 

 way, are never shod. 



The ground was very bad going, and over one bit of 

 sandy waste I thought we never should get. The 

 camels sank in up to their knees at every forward 

 move, then deeper, and at last so deep — it was almost 

 like an American mud-hole — I began to fear conse- 

 quences. The absurd creatures made no attempt to 

 extricate themselves, but simply, when they found the 

 place a perfect quagmire, settled down like squashed 

 jellies. 



It was too ridiculous for words, and I laughed and 

 laughed. Everybody talked at once, and nobody did 



