had sunk to embers. A dozen sticks radiated from the centre of coals.
Each made a firebrand with one end cool to the grasp. Captain D. hurled
one of these at the devoted and unconscious group.

It whirled through the air and fell plunk in the other fire, scattering
sparks and coals in all directions. The second was under way before the
first had landed. It hit a native with similar results, plus astonished
and grieved language. The rest followed in rapid-magazine-fire. Every
one hit its mark fair and square. The air was full of sparks exploding
in all directions. The brush was full of Wakamba, their blankets
flapping in the breeze of their going. The convention was adjourned.
There fell the sucking vacuum of a great silence. Captain D., breathing
righteous wrath, flopped heavily and determinedly down on his cot. I
caught a faint snicker from the tent next door.

Captain D. sighed deeply, turned over, and prepared to sleep. Then one
of the dogs uprose--I think it was Ben--stretched himself, yawned,
approached deliberately, and began to drink from the canvas bath-tub
just outside. He drank--lap, lap, lap, lap--for a very long time. It
seemed incredible that any mere dog--or canvas bath-tub--could hold so
much water. The steady repetition of this sound long after it should
logically have ceased was worse than the shenzi gathering around the
fire. Each lap should have been the last, but it was not. The shenzi
convention had been abated with firebrands, but the dog was strictly
within his rights. The poor pups had had a long day with little water,
and they could hardly be blamed for feeling a bit feverish now. At last
Ben ceased. Next morning Captain D. claimed vehemently that he had drunk
two hours forty-nine minutes and ten seconds. With a contented sigh Ben
lay down. Then Ruby got up, shook herself, and yawned. A bright idea
struck her. She too went over and had a drink. After that I, personally,