“So I have,” answered the hunter-actor. “I forgot myself for a moment. At the same time, those ticks do bite; but I suppose it had better be them than a hippo,” and he proceeded to apply some healing lotion to the bites of the insects that make life in Africa a burden to man and beast, not even the mighty lion, nor the thick-skinned rhinoceros, escaping. “I never thought the mosquitoes would be so bad,” came from the tent where Mr. Duncan was sleeping--or, rather, trying to sleep. “There must be a hole in my mosquito canopy,” he went on. “Do as I once read of an Irishman doing,” suggested Sergeant Hotchkiss. “How was that?” asked Mr. Piper. “Why, the Irishman put up at a hotel in some part of Jersey, where the mosquitoes were very bad,” went on the former Boer soldier. “He was shown to his room, and found a mosquito netting over the bed. He didn’t know exactly what it was for, but he managed to solve the problem to his own satisfaction at least. In the morning the hotel clerk asked him how he slept, also inquiring if the mosquitoes bothered him very much. “The Irishman said they did, until he had an inspiration. He said he tore a hole in the ‘fishnet’ over his bed. “‘Sure and all the mosquitoes went in that,’ he said, ‘and I just laid down on the floor, after closin’ up the hole, with them all inside, and slept in peace and quietness.’” “That’s pretty good,” remarked Mr. Duncan, “but I don’t believe African mosquitoes are like that.” It was their third day out, and they had traveled over a considerable stretch of country. The porters were fresh, and had made good time. Mr. Piper was lucky enough to shoot a big eland, and this furnished meat, which the white travelers were almost as glad to partake of as were the blacks. The boys had tried several times to get moving pictures of some of the herds of wildebeest or hartebeest, a species of antelope, and also the numerous gazelles, the Thompson variety, known locally as “Tommy’s,” and also the Grant. But they had been unsuccessful from various causes. Sometimes, just as they got ready to begin grinding away at the film, having placed the camera at some water hole, or stream where game came to drink, the clicking would frighten the timid creatures away. Or the deer would scent some animal that they dreaded--a lion or leopard, and would gallop off before Joe or Blake could get the desired films. Then, if they waited for the more powerful animals to appear, something might frighten them off, and so the opportunity would be lost. “But we’ll get ’em yet,” said Joe. “I’d rather get some of the wilder or bigger animals, if we could, instead of these deer-like creatures, anyhow.” “Oh, we’ll get ’em all in time,” declared his chum.