The Encampment and the Supper—Discussions, Political and Otherwise—Kambira Receives a Shock, and our Wanderers are Thrown into Perplexity.

Turn we now to a more peaceful scene. The camp is almost quiet, the stars are twinkling brightly overhead, the fires are glimmering¹ fitfully below. The natives, having taken the edge off their appetites, have stretched their dusky forms on their sleeping-mats, and laid their woolly heads on their little wooden pillows. The only persons moving are Harold Seadrift and Disco Lillihammer—the first being busy making notes in a small book, the second being equally busy in manufacturing cloudlets from his unfailing pipe, gazing the while with much interest at his note-making companion.

“They was pretty vigorous w’en they wos at it, sir,” said Disco, in reference to supper, observing that his companion looked up from his book, “but they wos sooner done than I had expected.”

“Yes, they weren’t long about it,” replied Harold, with an abstracted air, as he resumed his writing.

Lest the reader should erroneously imagine that supper is over, it is necessary here to explain what taking the edge off a free African’s appetite means.

On reaching camp after the cutting up of the elephant, as detailed⁴ in the last chapter, the negroes had set to work to roast and boil with a degree of vigour⁵ that would have surprised even the chefs de cuisine⁶ of the world’s first-class hotels. Having gorged⁷ themselves to an extent that civilised people might perhaps have thought dangerous, they had then commenced an uproarious dance, accompanied by stentorian⁸ songs, which soon reduced them to the condition of beings who needed repose⁹. Proceeding¹⁰ upon the principle of overcoming temptation by giving way to it, they at once lay down and went to sleep.

分享到：