and
Walker who talked incessantly; and the young man's simplicity, his
constant surprise at the difference between Africa and Mayfair, never
ceased to divert him.

Presently Adamson came into the tent. He was the Scotch doctor who had
already been Alec's companion on two of his expeditions; and there was a
firm friendship between them. He was an Edinburgh man, with a slow drawl
and a pawky humour, a great big fellow, far and away the largest of any
of the whites; and his movements were no less deliberate than his
conversation.

'Hulloa, there,' he called out, as he came in.

Walker started to his feet as if he were shot and instinctively seized
his gun.

'All right!' laughed the doctor, putting up his hand. 'Don't shoot. It's
only me.'

Walker put down the gun and looked at the doctor with a blank face.

'Nerves are a bit groggy, aren't they?'

The fat, cheerful man recovered his wits and gave a short laugh.

'Why the dickens did you wake me up? I was dreaming--dreaming of a
high-heeled boot and a neat ankle and the swirl of a white lace
petticoat.'

'Were you indeed?' said the doctor, with a slow smile. 'Then it's as
well I woke ye up in the middle of it before ye made a fool of yourself.
I thought I'd better have a look at your arm.'

'It's one of the most aesthetic sights I know.'

'Your arm?' asked the doctor, drily.

'No,' answered Walker. 'A pretty woman crossing Piccadilly at Swan &
Edgar's. You are a savage, my good doctor, and a barbarian; you don't
know the care and forethought, the hours of anxious meditation, it has
needed to hold up that well-made skirt with the elegant grace that
enchants you.'

'I'm afraid you're a very immoral man, Walker,' answered Adamson with
his long drawl, smiling.

'Under the present circumstances I have to content myself with
condemning the behaviour of the pampered and idle. Just now a camp-bed
in a stuffy tent, with mosquitoes buzzing all around me, has allurements
greater than those of youth and beauty. And I would not sacrifice my
dinner to philander with Helen of Troy herself.'

'You remind me considerably of the fox who said the grapes were sour.'

Walker flung a tin plate at a rat that sat up on its hind legs and
looked at him impudently.

'Nonsense. Give me a comfortable bed to sleep in, plenty to eat, tobacco
to smoke; and Amaryllis may go hang.'

Dr. Adamson smiled quietly. He found a certain grim humour in the
contrast between the difficulties