emselves at his feet. By
this time the thunder was rolling up relentlessly, and the
flashes shone green and sinister. The storm was not long in
breaking over them. The rain swished in from the west the way of
Hood's right side. He wrapped his head in his five-shilling
blanket; its cotton-waste was not very waterproof. He had a few
more draws at his pipe in the dark. Pools were filling under him.
He put his pipe down. He made haste for the frontiers of sleep.
He must have got some way in that direction, for he soon found
himself in his bath on the threshold of a dream. Of course, he
should have hardened his heart hygienically. He should have risen
and stridden on with his retainers the miles that remained. But
he had his vein of weakness and sloth; he took the fury of that
night lying down.

At whiles he was across the drift of Lethe in the darkness, but
never for long together. Once he woke uneasily with a start and
saw a flash. The crash followed as in one beat, and the rain was
like the rain in King Lear. He was broadly awake now. Two
carriers were nestling near him. He felt fearfully for his pipe,
and almost mourned for it as washed away. He found it, and turned
over with a happy sigh. 'Man's airy notions!' 'as in a grave,'
'mix with earth' he hummed himself to sleep with that brave
sing-song.

The dawn had come ere he had roused himself again. It was good to
find that the rain was over and the night gone, and that the fire
was blazing. His carriers were chafing their hands and feet. His
sleeping host bulked still as a molded shape in the buck-sail.
Had he moved at all since last night? The big black-and-white and
red-and-white oxen were tethered still. Would their wardens ever
wake up and see them fed? The carriers tied up his packs, and
moved forward with a swing. Still there was no sign from the
buck-sail, boy and master alike were still within, though the sun
had climbed over the hills. Hood shrugged his shoulders, and
moved off down the west road. He left that little mystery, as he
had left bigger riddles in Africa, utterly unsolved.

Soon they dried themselves at a hospitable hut-fire in a village.
It was Lady Day. Hood noted the seasonable blue-and-white of his
blanket as he hung it on a rafter. He made the morning Offering
behind that vaporous screen. Then they ate their food, and
drugged themselves belatedly with quinine against those perils of
the night.

Hood for one felt cheerily defiant, if somew