“Well, that simplifies matters, anyhow,” said the officer, musingly. “Could you tell me if he holds with an eight hours’ day?”
“I expect so.” Then added, as an afterthought, “What—er—what kind of a day is it?”
“Oh,” answered the no-wiser warrior, “an eight hours’ days is—er—an eight hours’ day.”
“To be sure,” in a tone of great relief. “How silly of me! I should persuade my husband to have any kind of day his constituents most preferred.”
“But imagine,” put in Cecily, “if they all wanted different!”
“There are three hundred and sixty-five days in the year, I believe,” said the offended lady, frigidly.
The old husband was much more likeable, and we got on well with him when we were allowed a look in. He had a pretty wit, and told stories in an inimitable manner, though not always of come-in-with-the-fish variety. Indeed, some of his anecdotes could better have made an entree with the curry. I dare say so much camp life had roughened him a little. When Madam waxed sarcastic, and scornfully told him a tale was too far fetched he would say quite good-humouredly he could never fetch his stories from far enough, as he was for ever seeing the light of auld lang syne in some eye. He had that best and most useful of gifts, the power to say things apropos at just the right moment. Most of us think them up afterwards when it is too late. Such a power is a gift worth having from the gods, just as malapropisms come from another quarter.
The traveller’s bungalow affected to put us all up. Ralph said it was affectation merely, as the place was so crowded out he slept with his feet through the window!
Anything that was likely to be of the least use to him we gave to Clarence, to his great joy, and his choice did fall on some quaint things. An ordinary English axe was his first selection; he passed over the native ones in lofty scorn. In addition to these few simple gifts we decided to bestow on him, as a mark of our immense appreciation of the good work done, our spare 12-bore, in order that he might go out on his next shikar with every degree of safety. Such a present overwhelmed our follower by its magnificence, and he was almost too excited to speak, or express his thanks. At first he did not realise we meant to give it, and it was very pleasant indeed to watch his face as the wonderful truth dawned on his mind.
The rest of our men filed past us as we stood ready to pay them by the side of the tent that had been our home for so long. Every man got his bonus of money, and a little present besides from the stores, and we shook hands all round. I think we all felt the same regret at parting. Absurd as it may sound, the saying “Good-bye” to these rough followers of ours was a sentimentally sad business.