DAYS IN CAMP 279 
laughter of the children seemed to have an English ring, 
and the tone of their voices was not very different as it 
came down to us from their choom. And often as I crept 
round the camp of an evening and lifted the flap of their 
choom, I used to ask myself :—‘Now, how are these 
people in any way essentially different from ourselves ?’ 
Softly came the voice of Katrina crooning to her baby. 
She had a little song for it, just as any mother here will 
have. ‘Adski, adski, pi-sing-a Adski, arki hu-wi-ni- 
ti-an,’? this is what she sang. I don’t think it sounds 
very pretty to you, but it means this: ‘Laugh, baby, 
laugh. Baby will soon be a big man.’ And then she 
would play hide-and-seek—‘hunyan hordah’ she called 
it, covering its face with a bit of soft skin. ‘Hunyan,’ 
where is it? and ‘hordah,’ found. 
And the children in the corner would be having a 
tea-party for the dolls. Nyabkutni, the curly-headed, 
would work the hosts, the father, mother, and their family, 
and the other girls would introduce the guests. The 
choom they represented by three sticks. They used to 
go through most elaborate performances, and shout with 
laughter, but I could never gather a single word from all 
their chattering, and whenever I asked them, they only 
laughed the more. 
Hyland was very wretched yesterday, shivering and 
ague-like, and did not move all day, so this morning 
when I went out about five o’clock I did not disturb him. 
1 Laughter. 2 The day after to-morrow. 
