A more African scene can not be imagined.

The porter's fires, over each of which sticks spitted with elephant meat _en brochette_ were cooking, imparted a weird look to the river jungle grass and spectral trees.
At ten o'clock we had our dinner and at eleven we put on our pajamas and with the camp-fire burning before the tent and the armed askaris pacing back and forth, gave ourselves up to lazy talk, then meditation and then sound sleep.
It was a wonderful day--one always to be remembered.
The next day, Christmas, came without the usual customs of Christmas morn.

In the forenoon we stuck with the bull elephant, getting its skin and bones ready for transportation back to camp; and in the afternoon came the work of saving the skull and part of the skin of the cow elephant.

The porters must have thought the day a wonderful one, for they ate and gorged on elephant meat until they could hardly move..