It became quite dark
by the time we got half-way up the mountain; this we were prepared for,
having made arrangements for camping out the night. We had brought with
us an ample store of provisions, not forgetting our plaids. The heat was
so great when we started that we dispensed with coats, and even
waistcoats, and went on rejoicing in the cool freedom of our
shirt-sleeves. Each wore a broad leather waist-belt, stuck round with
revolvers and bowie-knives. I believe we looked like a couple of the
veriest brigands. Had we only been spotted by a "correspondent," I make
little doubt that we should have been telegraphed as "atrocities" to the
London evening papers.
The more civilisation closes round one, the more enjoyable is an
occasional "try back" into barbarism. This feeling made the mere fact of
camping out seem delightful. Our first care was to select a suitable
spot; we found a clearing that promised well, and here we made a halt.
We deposited our _batterie de cuisine_, arranged our plaids, and then
proceeded to make a fire with a great lot of dried sticks and logs of
wood. The fire was soon crackling and blazing away in grand style,
throwing out mighty tongues of flame, which lit up the dark recesses of
the forest.
Now came the supper, which consisted of robber-steak and tea. I always
stuck to my tea as the most refreshing beverage after a long walk or
ride. I like coffee in the morning before starting--good coffee, mind;
but in the evening there is nothing like tea.
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