The stone hut where we were to spend the night was not so much a rondavel as an oval-davel. It had once, according to Rob, been very nicely equipped by the Natal Mountain Club with mattresses, stores of food, wood and so on, but the Basuto tribesmen had found all these things too temptng, and now all that remained was a dubious-looking pile of coir in a corner, which was, all the same, a softer place to lay our sleeping-bags than on the floor. The tribesmen had even found the windows too tempting, so the hut was, to put it mildly, a trifle draughty.
From NOTHING HAPPENED AFTER ALL, Chapter 10, Don't Get Mixed up in Politics.
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