But Never When I
Was At The Same Time In Such A Desperate Need And Hurry; And In
Possession Of Such Poor Materials.
The harder I worked, the worse
things sputtered and smouldered.
Probably the relief from the
long tension of the buffalo hunt had something to do with my
general piffling inefficiency. If I had taken time to do a proper
job once instead of a halfway job a dozen times, as I should have
done and usually would have done, I would have had a fire in no
time. I imagine I was somewhat scared. The lioness and her
hulking cub had smelled the buffalo and were prowling around. I
could hear them purring and uttering their hollow grunts.
However, at last the flame held. I fed it sparingly, lit a pipe,
placed the Holland gun next my hand, and resigned myself to
waiting. For two hours this was not so bad. I smoked, and rested
up, and dried out before my little fire. Then my fuel began to
run low. I arose and tore down all the remaining dead limbs
within the circle of my firelight. These were not many, so I
stepped out into the darkness for more. Immediately I was warned
back by a deep growl!
The next hour was not one of such solid comfort. I began to get
parsimonious about my supply of firewood, trying to use it in
such a manner as to keep up an adequate blaze, and at the same
time to make it last until Memba Sasa should return with the men.
I did it, though I got down to charred ends before I was through.
The old lioness hung around within a hundred yards or so below,
and the buffalo herd, returning, filed by above, pausing to stamp
and snort at the fire.
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