My active wife had performed the most laborious duty, in rolling the hogshead to the place and breaking open the head.
The sun was going down as we finished supper, and, recollecting how rapidly night succeeded, we hastened to our tent, where we found our beds much more comfortable, from the kind attention of the good mother, who had collected a large addition of dried grass.

After prayers, we all lay down; the monkey between Jack and Fritz, carefully covered with moss to keep him warm.

The fowls went to their roost, as on the previous night, and, after our fatigue, we were all soon in a profound sleep.
We had not slept long, when a great commotion among the dogs and fowls announced the presence of an enemy.

My wife, Fritz, and I, each seizing a gun, rushed out.
By the light of the moon, we saw a terrible battle going on: our brave dogs were surrounded by a dozen jackals, three or four were extended dead, but our faithful animals were nearly overpowered by numbers when we arrived.

I was glad to find nothing worse than jackals; Fritz and I fired on them; two fell dead, and the others fled slowly, evidently wounded.