First he would approach the threshold of one tent, cock an inquiring ear at the occupant, and upon receiving the customary sign of welcome would wag himself in and pay his respects.

After a short call he would wag his way out and call at the next tent, where the same performance was repeated.
[Drawing: _A Ceremonial Call_] He never burst into a place like a cyclone of happiness, but rather, he sort of oozed in and oozed out, his mild brown eyes brimming with gentleness and his tail, that eloquent insignia of canine gladness, wigwagging messages of good cheer.
In one of the tents of the _msungu_ there was a pet monkey.

It had been captured down on the Tana River months before and at first was wild and vicious.

As time went by it lost much of its wildness and to those it liked was affectionate and friendly.

To all others it presented variable moods, sometimes friendly and sometimes unexpectedly and unreasonably hostile.