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 
residences 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 
