He stretched himself out in his bed and waked again that night after the moon had set, to fix indelibly in his memory the blazing dome of stars above his head, and the Southern Cross burning in a corner of the sky.
The long, wonderful holiday was ended.

To-morrow night he would sleep in a house.

Would he ever come this way again?
In the dark of the morning he struck westwards from the Dinder, across a most tedious neck of land, for Senga and the Blue Nile..