Chapter A". 
hand. On the other side of the boulder the guides, by dint 
of displacing large rocks with their ice-axes and working 
hard at levelling, had made room for their own tents. 
Every time that anyone stepped out of the camp he 
would sink into the mud. It was impossible to circulate 
between the tents without nailed boots, because the moment 
that you came out a sort of mountain-climbing gymnastic 
began, where it was necessary to hold on tight at every 
step. 
The mean temperature was from 39° to 41° F. At night 
it generally fell to 33°-34 c , and sometimes to freezing point. 
The dampness, however, was far more trying than the cold. 
One event alone would occasionally relieve the tedium, 
namely, the arrival of the post. The letters were brought 
up by swift couriers—wrapped up carefully in banana leaves, 
and stuck in the end of a cleft cane. 
Now and again the camp would be filled with pungent 
smoke, extremely irritating to the eyes and chest, which 
came from the fires lit by the Bakonjo in the underground 
cavities between the boulders. They huddled together all 
day long in these dens, where they had not room to stretch 
themselves out at length, and ate or smoked incessantly when 
they were not asleep. Their real providence was the fire. 
They never left it except when called away, and rushed back 
to squat around it as soon as they were no longer required. 
They carried it about with them from place to place, using a 
sort of dry fungus which remains kindled like tinder, and which 
they keep in a case made of banana leaves. The moment a 
halt was called during a march, in less than no time the natives 
would have kindled a fire and be enjoying a fine blaze and 
smoking their pipes, and it was not always easy to induce 
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