of their situation and Walker's
flippant talk.

'Well, let us look at this wound of yours,' he said, getting back to his
business. 'Has it been throbbing?'

'Oh, it's not worth bothering about. It'll be as right as rain
to-morrow.'

'I'd better dress it all the same.'

Walker took off his coat and rolled up his sleeve. The doctor removed
the bandages and looked at the broad flesh wound. He put a fresh
dressing on it.

'It looks as healthy as one can expect,' he murmured. 'It's odd what
good recoveries men make here when you'd think that everything was
against them.'

'You must be pretty well done up, aren't you?' asked Walker, as he
watched the doctor neatly cut the lint.

'Just about dropping. But I've a devil of a lot more work to do before I
turn in.'

'The thing that amuses me is to think that I came to Africa thinking I
was going to have a rattling good time, plenty of shooting and
practically nothing to do.'

'You couldn't exactly describe it as a picnic, could you?' answered the
doctor. 'But I don't suppose any of us knew it would be such a tough job
as it's turned out.'

Walker put his disengaged hand on the doctor's arm.

'My friend, if ever I return to my native land I will never be such a
crass and blithering idiot as to give way again to a spirit of
adventure. I shall look out for something safe and quiet, and end my
days as a wine-merchant's tout or an insurance agent.'

'Ah, that's what we all say when we're out here. But when we're once
home again, the recollection of the forest and the plains and the
roasting sun and the mosquitoes themselves, come haunting us, and before
we know what's up we've booked our passage back to this God-forsaken
continent.'

The doctor's words were followed by a silence, which was broken by
Walker inconsequently.

'Do you ever think of rumpsteaks?' he asked.

The doctor stared at him blankly, and Walker went on, smiling.

'Sometimes, when we're marching under a sun that just about takes the
roof of your head off, and we've had the scantiest and most
uncomfortable breakfast possible, I have a vision.'

'I would be able to bandage you better if you only gesticulated with one
arm,' said Adamson.

'I see the dining-room of my club, and myself seated at a little table
by the window looking out on Piccadilly. And there's a spotless
table-cloth, and all the accessories are spick and span. An obsequious
menial brings me a rumpsteak, grilled to perfection, and