THIS was our fifth night of camping on the banks of the Mazaruni. We were to be two nights here, as we did not intend to travel or work on Sunday.

By the time we had our shelters erected and this little mix-up with the blacks had been settled, Lewis suddenly looked up from his notebook in which he was keeping a sort of journal, and said, “Say!”

“Say it,” I remarked, lazily, from my hammock where I was resting.

“Whoop-ee!” shouted Lewis, leaping to his feet.

“What’s got you?” I demanded. “Is it a vampire down your neck or a crocodile up your trousers leg?”

“This, my beloved fellow American, happens to be the fourth day of July, in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and seventeen, and the one hundred and forty-first year of our country’s independence!” was his reply, whereupon I stared at him a moment and then I, too, leaped up and emitted a war whoop. Fourth of July in a far-away jungle!

In the British Guiana wilds we of course couldn’t do just as we would have done back in the United States, but we did the next best thing. While he was getting out some firearms I dug up several flags we had with us and soon the Stars and Stripes were much in evidence. We rigged a pole in the center of our camp, raised our largest flag and, with hats off, repeated the oath of allegiance. Then we ran the colors up on our boats and stuck the smaller flags about in various places.

Our next move was a bit of noise.

“Bang-bang-bang-bang!” went our repeating rifles. Then we shot our revolvers and finally we improvised a “cannon” out of a hollow log, filled it with blasting powder from our stock for mining, attached a fuse and kept up our firing of small arms until sunset, which was then but a few minutes coming.

Lewis lighted the fuse. I stood by at the flag and began to lower it.

“WHANG!”

It certainly was some explosion. Bits of the old log flew in every direction.

Quickly I lowered the flag, for that final explosion was our “sunset gun.”

There were some scared blacks in our party. They thought we had surely gone crazy. Those who had attempted to assert themselves when we landed were certain that we intended to kill them. But Captain Peter explained to them that it was our national holiday and that we were celebrating, and this made them feel better.

I ordered an especially good feast that night, some tinned fruits and double portions of food for all. Then we got out the victrola and I selected all of the old war songs and all of our patriotic music that we had, and for two hours Lewis and I made a bluff at singing everything from “Yankee Doodle” and “Columbia the Gem of the Ocean” to “America” and “The Star Spangled Banner.”

It was the most unusual Fourth of July celebration I had ever experienced and, now that we are having sane Fourths at home, I believe we burned more gunpowder away up there in the jungles of British Guiana on the banks of the Mazaruni than was burned in half the cities at home.