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African Camp Fires by Stewart Edward White
page 66 of 268 (24%)
doubt if I could have hit it.

However, we did not see one, and I staggered into camp at dusk pretty
well exhausted. From the most grateful hot bath and clean clothes I
derived much refreshment. Shortly I was sitting in my canvas chair,
sipping a cocoanut, and describing the condition of affairs to F., who
was naturally very curious as to how the trick was done.

"Now," I concluded, "I know just about what I can and what I cannot do.
Three days more of this sort of work will feed me up. If we do not run
across a sable in that time, I'm afraid we don't get any."

"Two days will do for me," said he.

We called up the guide and questioned him closely. He seemed quite
confident; and asserted that in this country sable were found, when they
were found at all, which was not often. They must be discovered in the
small grassy openings. We began to understand why so very few people get
sable.

We dismissed the guide, and sat quietly smoking in the warm soft
evening. The air was absolutely still save for various night insects and
birds, and the weird calling of natives across the valleys. Far out
towards the sea a thunderstorm flashed; and after a long interval the
rumblings came to us. So very distant was it that we paid it little
attention, save as an interesting background to our own still evening.
Almost between sentences of our slow conversation, however, it rushed up
to the zenith, blotting out the stars. The tall palms began to sway and
rustle in the forerunning breeze. Then with a swoop it was upon us, a
tempest of fury. We turned in; and all night long the heavy deluges of
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