"What's that? Do you rub it on yourself?" asked Euphemia anxiously.
"No; it's only a great smoke. Come, let us gather up dry leaves and make a smouldering fire of them."
We managed to get up a very fair smudge, and we stood to the leeward of it, until Euphemia began to cough and sneeze, as if her head would come off. With tears running from her eyes she declared that she would rather go and be eaten alive, than stay in that smoke.
"Perhaps we were too near it," said I.
"That may be," she answered; "but I have had enough smoke. Why didn't I think of it before? I brought two veils! We can put these over our faces and wear gloves."
She was always full of expedients.
Veiled and gloved, we bade defiance to the mosquitoes, and we sat and talked for half an hour or more. I made a little hole in my veil, through which I put the mouth-piece of my pipe.
When it became really dark I lighted the lantern, and we prepared for a well-earned night's rest. The tent was spacious and comfortable, and we each had a nice little cot-bed.
"Are you going to leave the front door open all night?" said Euphemia, as I came in after a final round to see that all was right.
"I should hardly call this canvas-flap a front door," I said, "but I think it would be better to leave it open; otherwise we should smother. You need not be afraid. I shall keep my gun here by my bedside, and if anyone offers to come in, I'll bring him to a full-stop quick enough."
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