Next, they rigged a table about the centre-pole, and on it placed pewter pitchers, basins, soap, and the whitest of towels -- one set for each man; they pointed to pockets in the tent, and said we could put our small trifles in them for convenience, and if we needed pins or such things, they were sticking every where.

Then came the finishing touch--they spread carpets on the floor! I simply said, "If you call this camping out, all right--but it isn't the style I am used to; my little baggage that I brought along is at a discount." It grew dark, and they put candles on the tables--candles set in bright, new, brazen candlesticks.

And soon the bell--a genuine, simon-pure bell -- rang, and we were invited to "the saloon." I had thought before that we had a tent or so too many, but now here was one, at least, provided for; it was to be used for nothing but an eating-saloon.

Like the others, it was high enough for a family of giraffes to live in, and was very handsome and clean and bright-colored within.

It was a gem of a place.