what was the convention of 1898. They are not. They just take it
for granted that Kowfat is one of the many thousand places that
they "own," somewhere in the outer darkness. They have so many
Kowfats that they cannot keep track of them.

I knew therefore that everybody would be interested in any discussion
of what was at once called "the Kowfat Crisis" and I wrote it up. I
resisted the temptation to begin after the American fashion, "Shriek
sheds suspenders," and suited the writing, as I thought, to the
market I was writing for. I wrote up the incident for the Morning
Post after the following fashion:

"The news from Kowfat affords one more instance of a painful
back-down on the part of the Government. Our policy of spineless
supineness is now reaping its inevitable reward. To us there is only
one thing to be done. If the Shriek has torn off his suspenders he
must be made to put them on again. We have always held that where the
imperial prestige of this country is concerned there is no room for
hesitation. In the present instance our prestige is at stake: the
matter involves our reputation in the eyes of the surrounding
natives, the Bantu Hottentots, the Negritos, the Dwarf Men of East
Abyssinia, and the Dog Men of Darfur. What will they think of us? If
we fail in this crisis their notion of us will fall fifty per cent.
In our opinion this country cannot stand a fifty per cent drop in the
estimation of the Dog Men. The time is one that demands action. An
ultimatum should be sent at once to the Shriek of Kowfat. If he has
one already we should send him another. He should be made at once to
put on his suspenders. The oil must be scraped off him, and he must
be told plainly that if a pup like him tries to start a Jehad he will
have to deal with the British Navy. We call the Shriek a pup in no