The Nineteenth Century , No 182, Apr 1892 [‎70v] (145/244)

630
THE NINETEENTH
April
went off early to our tent, and, very tired, crept into our narrow beds,
and so went quickly to sleep with the sounds of camp life still stir
ring round us. In the night I woke up. A heavy shower was rattling
down on the canvas, two dogs were snarling at each other just out
side the tent, and the Arabs were chattering as usual; but I felt a
delicious indifference to it all, and quickly dropped off to sleep again.
In the morning it was pleasant to feel that there was no occasion for
a great scramble in dressing, as there was no hunting start at 8.30.
The pigsticking was to go on for two more days, but this was to be
an off-day to rest both beaters and horses; the sky looked very
threatening, and we couldn't help feeling that a house over our heads
might have its attractions. Everybody had been most kind and
attentive and nice. Our two Captains from Gibraltar had been un
wearied in their care of us, hammering in our tent pegs, looking to
our tent ropes, lending us their shooting-boots (such as they
were, but so delightfully dry as they kept us), their rugs, their
waterproofs. The weather had been against us, but we had gained
an experience; had seen pretty well both the pleasant and unpleasant
sides of camping out, and had had a most successful hunt. We had
enjoyed the open-air life and the gallops over the wild country ; had
revelled in the sun when it shone, and had discovered it was best to
see the humour of the thing when, on the contrary, everything was
damp or soaking. And so at eleven o'clock that morning our little
caravan of horses and mules set out once more across country under
the charge of M. Bosch, and late that afternoon we had returned
to civilisation, or at least such civilisation as may be found at
Bruzeaud's Hotel, just outside the walls of white Tangier, in
Morocco.
H enrietta G- eey E gerton.