Lindsay hummed the "Eton Boating Song" whilst Knight and Hobday waltzed round and round the fire. Although he bobbed about in an unnecessarily energetic manner, it was clear to Knight that Hobday had been inside a ballroom.
Then Knight sat down and hummed the "Blue Danube," but very badly, and with many notes strange to the tune, for Lindsay was six foot three and Hobday only five foot four!
Then Knight and Lindsay danced to the "Merry Widow," hummed by Hobday. They really got on very well together in spite of Lindsay's bandaged feet, for both, in civilisation, were adjudged good dancing men.
After that they each had some light refreshment in the shape of another tot of gin, and it was then that Hobday showed himself to be a man of imagination.
"Let's all dance now," he said. "Let's dance the Lancers."
"How?" said Lindsay, "we are only three and there should be at least eight for the Lancers."
"That don't matter," replied Hobday, "you two fellows take sides, I'll do top and bottom; our partners—well, they're in England, don't you see?"
And so it came about that in the heart of Africa, under the star-lit sky, three sane and more or less sober Englishmen danced right through the Lancers from beginning to end, one taking top and bottom, the other two the sides, whilst their partners were present only in the mind of each.
After the dance they stood silently round the dying fire, gazing into the embers.
Who can say what fair forms and faces they saw there?