s soon as we grow a little more hungry."

"Then they'll be sold," said Dickenson, "for the hungrier I grow the
more savage and full of fight I get. You know about the old saying of
some fellow, that when he had had a good dinner a child might play with
him?"

"Oh yes, I know," said Lennox. "Well, these children of the desert had
better not try to play with me."

"Ought to have a notice on you, `Take care; he bites'--eh?" said Lennox
merrily.

"'M, yes; something of the kind. I say, I wish, though, I could sleep
without dreaming."

"Can't you?"

"No; it's horrible. I go to sleep directly I lie down, and then the
game begins. I'm at Christmas dinners or banquets or parties, and the
tables are covered with good things. Then either they've got no taste
in them, or else as soon as I try to cut a slice or take up a mouthful
in a spoon it's either snatched or dragged away."

"Oh, don't talk about food," said Lennox impatiently; "it makes me feel
sick. There's one comfort, though."

"Is there?" cried Dickenson excitedly. "Where? Give us a bit."

"Nonsense! I mean we have plenty of that beautiful spring water."

"Ugh!" cried Dickenson, with a shudder. "Cold and clear, unsustaining.
I saw some water once through a microscope, and it was full of live
things twizzling about in all directions. That's the sort of water we
want now--something to eat in it as well as drink."

Lennox made an irritable gesture.

"Talk about something else, man," he cried. "You think of nothing but
eating and drinking."

"That's true, old man. Well, I'll say no more about drinking; but I
wonder how cold roast prisoner would taste?"

"Bob!" shouted Lennox.

"Well, what shall I talk about?"

"Look about you. See how beautiful the kopjes and mountains look in the
distance this evening; they seem to glow with orange and rose and gold."

"There you go again! You're always praising up this horrid place."

"Well, isn't it beautiful? See how clear the air is."

"I dare say. But I don't want clear air; I'd rather it was thick as
soup if it tasted like it."

"Soup! There you go again. Think of how lovely it is down by the
river."

"With the Boers popping at you? I say, this ear of mine doesn't heal
up."

"You don't mind the doctor's orders."

"So much fighting to do; haven't time."

"But you grant it is beautiful down by the river?"

"Yes, where only man is vile--very vile indeed; does nothing all day but
try t