ur portion for all time.
Indeed, when matters became worse a better spirit of resignation was
manifested. To the seasoned campaigner roughing it on the Karoo our
fare, plenty of it, might seem good, luxurious even; but to us, with
very little of it, surrounded by the civilising influences of knives and
forks, serviettes, plates, teapots, no end of pepper and _insufficient_
salt--it wore a different aspect and seemed anything but luxurious. Yet
that was our position day after day, Sunday after Sunday, and the irony
growing grimmer all along with unfailing regularity. At the camps the
_menu_ was practically the same, but the graces of civilisation were
happily less in evidence there. There were fortunate possessors of
aviaries, and people who owned hens that produced no protoplasmic
fruit, who could have a bird for dinner occasionally. A brisk business
in fowls was done in the streets. The birds fetched enormous prices.
Very young ones of sparrow proportions, not long out of the shell, were
slaughtered wholesale, to pander to the palate of--perchance a member of
the Society for the prevention of cruelty to animals. And here a tribute
is due to him or her who, rising above the selfishness--the siege
selfishness--of the majority, invited a friend now and then to share
their good fortune. There were such noble souls; their numbers were
few--not ten per cent, of those in a position to be hospitable--but all
the more precious for their rarity. It was a sight to fill one with envy
to see the cherished chickens being carried through the streets as
carefully as if they were worth their weight in gold--as indeed they
nearly were. Ever and anon the bearer of a bird would be saluted by a
passer-by who would desire to know its price. On hearing it he would
enjoy a good laugh, or relieve his feelings with a good oath in
deprecation of avarice so naked. Another would pause and say nothing,
but with a baleful gleam in his eye would set himself to measure the
proportions--not of the chicken, but of him who carried it, while he
mentally calculated his chances of success in a tussle, and shaped in
his mind a desperate resolve to enjoy one good meal and then die, or
perish, anyhow, in the attempt. All the provision shops were still open,
but there was nothing for sale in half them. Tinned meats had given out;
this was considered the last straw, even by the fastidiously clean, and
the toxicologist who liked his salmon fresh. Five, ten, twenty