CHAPTER XII 



OUR BUTLER LEVANTS 



O, I am out of breath in this fond chase 



Midsummer Night's Dream 



Good morrow to you both ; what counterfeit did I give you ? 

 The slip, sir, the slip 



Romeo and Juliet 



Whenever practicable, usually when we remained a 

 day or two in the one place, I made the men build me 

 a little hut of bushes, so that if there was any breeze 

 it blew through the branches. At such times I made 

 my canvas residence a cache-tent, and gladly took up my 

 abode in my jerry-built shelter, esteeming myself lucky 

 in having it. I should never have done for a Bedouin 

 or Baluchi. I hate and detest tents, even the most 

 sumptuous. They are the hottest and coldest resi- 

 dences I know. Give me four walls and a roof of any 

 sort ! Be they never so humble they are better than 

 the best tent that ever was made. Really, if it hadn't 

 been for the flies that unceasingly did worry, my pied- 

 a-terre was luxury, and I could sing with unmixed 

 pleasure as I looked across at my, for the nonce, dis- 

 carded tent, " I wouldn't leave my little wooden hut 

 for you." 



My furniture was of the " art " variety that you see 

 so frequently advertised in that useful little journal 



