in front of our tent had been lit. On the other side of it stood
one of our askaris leaning on his musket. He and his three
companions, turn about, keep the flames bright against the
fiercer creatures.

After a time we grew sleepy. I called Saa-sita and entrusted to
him my watch. On the crystal of this I had pasted a small piece
of surgeon's plaster. When the hour hand reached the surgeon's
plaster, he must wake us up. Saa-sita was a very conscientious
and careful man. One day I took some time hitching my pedometer
properly to his belt: I could not wear it effectively myself
because I was on horseback. At the end of the ten-hour march it
registered a mile and a fraction. Saa-sita explained that he
wished to take especial care of it, so he had wrapped it in a
cloth and carried it all day in his hand!

We turned in. As I reached over to extinguish the lantern I
issued my last command for the day.

"Watcha kalele, Saa-sita," I told the askari; at once he lifted
up his voice to repeat my words. "Watcha kalele!" Immediately
from the Responsible all over camp the word came back-from
gunbearers, from M'ganga, from tent boys-"kalele! kalele!
kalele!"

Thus commanded, the boisterous fun, the croon of intimate talk,
the gently rising and falling tide of melody fell to complete
silence. Only remained the crackling of the fire and the
innumerable voices of the tropical night.