drawn aside, we found that Tsavo, perched on a hillside, looked abroad
over a wide prospect. For the moment all we saw was a dark, dismal,
dripping station, wherein was no sign of life.

We were beginning to get chilly, and we wanted very much some tea, fire,
a chance to dry, pending the arrival of our safari. We jerked open the
door and peered into the inky interior.

"Babu!" yelled F., "Babu!"

From an inner back room came the faint answer in most precise English,--

"I can-not come; I am pray-ing."

There followed the sharp, quick tinkle of a little bell--the Indian
manner of calling upon the Lord's attention.

We both knew better than to hustle the institutions of the East; so we
waited with what patience we had, listening to the intermittent
tinkling of the little bell. At the end of fully fifteen minutes the
devotee appeared. He proved to be a mild, deprecating little man, very
eager to help, but without resources. He was a Hindu, and lived mainly
on tea and rice. The rice was all out, but he expected more on the night
train. There was no trading store here. He was the only inhabitant.
After a few more answers he disappeared, to return carrying two pieces
of letter paper on which were tea and a little coarse native sugar.
These, with a half-dozen very small potatoes, were all he had to offer.

It did not look very encouraging. We had absolutely nothing in which to
boil water. Of course we could not borrow of our host; caste stood in