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Then I had to swim for it. That was of less account. Our
costume was not elaborate,--a pair of overalls, a woollen shirt,
and a straw hat, that was all, and a wetting was rather welcome
than otherwise; but they dubbed me Bismarck, and that was not to
be borne. My passionate protest only made them laugh the louder.
Yet they were not an ill-natured lot, rather the reverse. Saturday
afternoon was our wash-day, when we all sported together in peace
and harmony in the river. When we came out, we spread our clothes
to dry on the roof of the barracks, while we burrowed each in a
hill of white sand, and smoked our pipes far into the night, with
only our heads and the hand that held the pipe sticking out. That
was for protection against mosquitoes. It must have been a sight,
one of those Saturday night confabs, but it was solid comfort after
the wreek's work.
Bricks are made literally while the sun shines. The day begins
with the first glimmer of light in the east, and is not over till
the "pits" are worked out. It was my task to cart clay in the
afternoon to fill them up again.


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