I entered.
Mr.Rawjester lay apparently in a deep slumber, from which even the clouds of smoke that came from the burning curtains of his bed could not rouse him.

Around the room a large and powerful negress, scantily attired, with her head adorned with feathers, was dancing wildly, accompanying herself with bone castanets.

It looked like some terrible fetich.
I did not lose my calmness.

After firmly emptying the pitcher, basin, and slop-jar on the burning bed, I proceeded cautiously to the garden, and, returning with the garden-engine, I directed a small stream at Mr.
Rawjester.
At my entrance the gigantic negress fled.

Mr.Rawjester yawned and woke.