So I went to sleep again.
Just at dawn the clarion crow of a rooster came from under my bed.

It was one of the roosters the cook had bought from a Boer settler and had come in to escape the coldness of the night air without.

It was a most agreeable surprise, for there was a homelike sound in the crow of the rooster that was pleasantly reminiscent of the banks of the Wabash far away.
After Little Wanderobo Dog became "acclimated" to the warm and friendly atmosphere of hospitality of the camp, he began to show evidences of tact and diplomacy.

He bestowed his attentions, with unerring impartiality to all of us.

In the evening, and frequently during the day, he would pay ceremonial visits to each of the four tents of the _msungu_, as the white people are called.