ten principally, to
make the spot his home. The hearth is home, whether there be walls round
it or not. Directly there are glowing embers the place is no longer
wild, it becomes human. Felix had nothing that needed cooking. He took
his cowhide from the canoe and spread it on the ground.

A well-seasoned cowhide is the first possession of every hunter; it
keeps him from the damp; and with a second, supported on three short
poles stuck in the earth (two crossed at the top in front, forming a
fork, and fastened with a thong, the third resting on these), he
protects himself from the heaviest rain. This little tent is always
built with the back to windward. Felix did not erect a second hide, the
evening was so warm and beautiful he did not need it, his cloak would be
ample for covering. The fire crackled and blazed at intervals, just far
enough from him that he might feel no inconvenience from its heat.

Thrushes sang in the ash wood all around him, the cuckoo called, and the
chiff-chaff never ceased for a moment. Before him stretched the expanse
of waters; he could even here see over the low islands. In the sky a
streak of cloud was tinted by the sunset, slowly becoming paler as the
light departed. He reclined in that idle, thoughtless state which
succeeds unusual effort, till the deepening shadow and the sinking fire,
and the appearance of a star, warned him that the night was really here.
Then he arose, threw on more fuel, and fetched his cloak, his chest, and
his boar spear from the canoe. The chest he covered with a corner of the
hide, wrapped himself in the cloak, bringing it well over his face on
account of the dew; then, drawing the lower corners of the hide over his
feet and limbs, he stretched himself at full length and fell asleep,
with the spear beside him.

There was the possibility of Bushmen, but not much probability. There
would be far more danger near the forest path, where they might expect a
traveller and watch to waylay him, but they could not tell beforehand
where he would rest that night. If any had seen the movements of his
canoe, if any lighted upon his bivouac by chance, his fate was certain.
He knew this, but trusted to the extreme improbability of Bushmen
frequenting a place where there was nothing to plunder. Besides, he had
no choice, as he could not reach the islands. If there was risk, it was
forgotten in the extremity of his weariness.

CHAPTER XV

SAILING ONWARDS

When Felix aw