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Updated: June 17, 2025
Spaniel, he feared, left the kitchen door ajar during the day, and these Borgias of the insect world, patiently invasive, seized their chance. It was a rare night when a sudden scream did not come from the nursery every hour or so. "Daddy, a keeto, a keeto!" was the anguish from one of the trio.
Canoes being obtained, the party proceeded slowly up a branch of this river, as far as the mouth of the Gazie creek, which comes from the north-west, running through part of the kingdom of Dahomy, having its rise in the country called Keeto.
He stood for a moment, looking. Suddenly there came a frightened cry from the nursery. "Daddy, a keeto, a keeto!" He nearly turned to run back, but checked himself. No, Mrs. Spaniel was now in charge. It was up to her. Besides, he had only just enough time to catch the last train to the city. But he sat on the cinder-speckled plush of the smoker in a mood that was hardly revelry.
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