'No wonder you get on so well with the natives. You have all the instincts of the primeval savage. You take food for the gross and bestial purpose of appeasing your hunger, and I don't believe you have the least appreciation for the delicacies of eating as a fine art.'
'The meat's getting rather mouldy,' answered Alec.
He ate notwithstanding with a good appetite. His thoughts went suddenly to Dick who at the hour which corresponded with that which now passed in Africa, was getting ready for one of the pleasant little dinners at the Carlton upon which he prided himself. And then he thought of the noisy bustle of Piccadilly at night, the carriages and 'buses that streamed to and fro, the crowded pavements, the gaiety of the lights.
'I don't know how we're going to feed everyone to-morrow,' said Walker. 'Things will be going pretty bad if we can't get some grain in from somewhere.'
Alec pushed back his plate.
'I wouldn't worry about to-morrow's dinner if I were you,' he said, with a low laugh.
'Why?' asked Walker.
'Because I think it's ten to one that we shall be as dead as doornails before sunrise.'
The two men stared at him silently. Outside, the wind howled grimly, and the rain swept against the side of the tent.
'Is this one of your little jokes, MacKenzie?' said Walker at last.