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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Witch Doctor and other Rhodesian Studies, by 
+Frank Worthington
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Witch Doctor and other Rhodesian Studies
+
+Author: Frank Worthington
+
+Release Date: January 13, 2011 [EBook #34946]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WITCH DOCTOR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Hunter Monroe, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                     THE WITCH DOCTOR AND
+                   OTHER RHODESIAN STUDIES.
+
+
+
+
+                       THE WITCH DOCTOR
+                          AND OTHER
+                      RHODESIAN STUDIES.
+
+                              BY
+
+                  FRANK WORTHINGTON, C.B.E.
+
+ (_Lately Secretary for Native Affairs, Northern Rhodesia_).
+
+
+                           LONDON:
+                    THE FIELD PRESS LTD.,
+           Windsor House, Bream's Buildings, E.C.4
+
+
+
+
+                              To
+                           MY WIFE.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+THE MIND OF THE NATIVE.
+                                     PAGE
+    The Witch Doctor                    3
+    The Riddle of Life and Death       25
+    Flattery                           28
+    Lizizi                             35
+    Mironda--a Woman                   46
+
+MAN AND BEAST.
+
+    Protective Colouring               57
+    Darwin--a Bird                     59
+    The Lion's Skin                    67
+    The Reverend Mr. Bumpus            74
+    The Salvation Army Captain         81
+    The Sport of Kings                 86
+    The Lions of Makululumi            94
+
+WHITE MEN AND BLACK
+
+    White Men at Play                 105
+    On the Building of Bridges        115
+    The Compleat Angler               120
+    The Song of the Great Occasion    125
+    The Descent of Man                132
+    The Railway Contractor            138
+    The Licensed Victualler           149
+    The Johnnie-come-Lately           154
+    The Lost Rubies                   160
+    The Cattle King                   170
+    Partners                          177
+    The Letter Home                   194
+    The Doctor                        214
+
+
+
+
+THE MIND OF THE NATIVE.
+
+
+
+
+THE WITCH DOCTOR.
+
+
+I.
+
+The Native Commissioner's Court had, with a very brief interval for
+luncheon, sat throughout the day. The weather was very hot and thundery,
+for the breaking of the rains was imminent. A number of cases had been
+disposed of, and the last was now drawing to a close. Having listened to
+the arguments of both sides, the Commissioner summed up, gave judgment,
+and dismissed the litigants, whereupon the native clerk began to collect
+the papers and put things away.
+
+The official lighted a cigarette, put on his hat, and walked towards the
+door. He was met by his head messenger.
+
+"Another case, Morena,"[1] said the messenger, pointing to a middle-aged
+native squatting in the courtyard softly clapping his hands. The
+hard-worked white man paused; he had thoughts of tea awaiting him in his
+bungalow a hundred yards away.
+
+    [1] _Morena_ signifies _Chief_.
+
+"Tell the man to come to-morrow," he said, and walked off in the
+direction of his house.
+
+The head messenger turned to the man sitting in the yard and said: "The
+Morena won't hear you to-day; you must sleep in the compound for
+to-night; to-morrow he will listen."
+
+"But my case is a big one," replied the stranger. "The father of his
+people will surely hear my case."
+
+The messenger pointed to the compound: "All cases are heavy in the hands
+of those who bring them; the compound is there."
+
+The man was evidently distressed. Raising his voice in the hope that the
+Commissioner would hear him, he shouted shrilly: "Ma-we! Ma-we! But mine
+is a big case, it is one of killing--of killing of people; the father of
+his people must hear me. Oh! Morena, I have a case, a big case, a case
+of killing."
+
+But the Native Commissioner had reached his house and was out of sight,
+the native clerk had locked the office door and, heedless of the man's
+wailing, walked away. If he thought at all, it was that sufficient unto
+the day is the evil thereof; evil meaning work to him.
+
+"Come, father," said the head messenger, "I go now to the compound, and
+you with me; to-morrow the Morena will hear your case before any other.
+I, Mokorongo, will see to it."
+
+But the man was not to be consoled. "No," said he, "my case is a big
+one, of people killed by witchcraft; I, too, will die to-night. Take me
+to the Morena, my father; do not refuse and so kill me."
+
+The messenger felt uncomfortable. For some reason, best known to
+himself, his master disapproved of the killing of people, and also set
+his face against witchcraft. No witch doctor could practise for long in
+his district, for was not his medicine stronger than that of any witch
+doctor? Did not the doctors know it, and had they not all moved to a
+safer place? Who, then, could have done this killing by witchcraft?
+Yes, it was a big case, and he would take the man to his master; but he
+must break in upon the great man's rest with care, or there would be
+trouble.
+
+Telling the stranger to come with him, he strode towards the house,
+pulling down his uniform in front and behind and settling his fez
+smartly on his head--evidence of some nervousness. Arriving at the door,
+he peered in. The hall was cool and dark, and, coming from the glare,
+for a moment he could see nothing; the next, he was aware of the
+Commissioner's eye upon him, and started violently at his master's sharp
+"Well, Mokorongo, what is it?"
+
+He began well: "Morena, here is a man who has killed another, and wants
+to tell of the matter before the sun sets, when he, too, will die."
+
+"Let the man come to the door."
+
+For Mokorongo the worst was over. He had with impunity disturbed the
+great man; the rest would be easy. He fitly marshalled the stranger to
+the mat just inside the hall door, drew himself up to his full height,
+and stood by to obey immediately such orders as his master might be
+pleased to give.
+
+The Commissioner, who was a good linguist, addressed the seated man
+direct:
+
+"So you have killed a man?"
+
+"No, Morena."
+
+"And you will yourself die to-night?"
+
+"No, Morena."
+
+Mokorongo's uneasiness returned; he shifted slightly and gazed at the
+ceiling.
+
+"Tell me your story."
+
+"Morena, my case is a big one; it is of killing--the killing of people,
+of my son--by witchcraft. Yesterday at sunset he died, and I, too, shall
+die to-night unless the Morena, father of his people, makes a stronger
+medicine, stronger than that of the witch doctor----" Here the wretched
+fellow paused.
+
+The Commissioner looked thoughtfully at the man in front of him; it was
+evident that the native dared not mention the witch doctor's name.
+Presently he rose, took from a side-table a decanter, poured himself out
+some whisky, and added soda from a sparklet bottle. Returning to his
+seat, he drank deeply of the bubbling liquid.
+
+The native was much impressed. Boiling water alone, so far as he knew,
+bubbled like that; he knew of the ordeal by boiling water, and had, no
+doubt, seen more than once the test applied. But this white man drank
+the boiling mixture with evident pleasure. Here, then, was the chief of
+all witch doctors.
+
+He finished his sentence: "--Chiromo."
+
+"Where does he live?"
+
+He explained in detail.
+
+"Of what do you accuse Chiromo?"
+
+"Of killing my son by witchcraft."
+
+"Go on with your story."
+
+"I have some goats. My son herded them by day and put them in the
+village at night. My son had a black-and-white dog which followed him to
+the lands each day. Two days ago the dog stole a skin from Chiromo's
+bed. Chiromo saw the dog eating the skin, and killed him with his axe.
+Chiromo is an angry man: he was angry with my son because his dog had
+eaten his skin. He knew the dog was my son's dog. He went to my son and
+said: 'I have killed your dog because your dog has eaten my skin.'
+
+"My son was very much afraid and said: 'Yes, sir.'
+
+"Then Chiromo took hold of my son's leg just above the knee, like this,
+and said: 'Do you feel pain here?' My son said: 'No.'
+
+"Then Chiromo said: 'You will to-morrow.'
+
+"Then Chiromo took hold of my son's other knee and said: 'Do you feel
+pain here?' My son said 'No.'
+
+"Then Chiromo took hold of my son's arm at the elbow and said: 'Do you
+feel pain here?' My son said: 'No.'
+
+"Then Chiromo touched his other arm and asked my son if he felt pain
+there. My son said he did not. He also touched him on the back of the
+neck, asking him if he felt any pain there. My son said he felt no pain.
+
+"Then Chiromo said: 'In your two legs and your two arms and in your neck
+you will feel much pain to-morrow.'
+
+"Then Chiromo went back to his own hut and my son, who was very
+frightened, came and told me what Chiromo had said to him and I also was
+frightened, for Chiromo is a great doctor. Then I went to my hut to
+sleep and my son went to his hut.
+
+"In the morning when I rose the goats were still in the village, and I
+was angry with my son because he had not taken them to the lands. I
+called to him, but he did not answer. I went to his hut, and found him
+very stiff. He told me that Chiromo had killed him; that he had much
+pain in his arms and legs and neck, and that he could not move. I tried
+to lift him, but he cried out with pain. At sunset he died. Oh, Morena,
+Chiromo has killed my son. My son who herded my goats. And to-night I
+myself shall die. Chiromo is indeed a great doctor. My case is a big
+one. A case of killing people by witchcraft. I, too, will----"
+
+The Native Commissioner interrupted the man. "Enough, now you may go to
+the compound, where you will sleep to-night; you will not die, because
+I must talk with you again."
+
+The man clapped his hands, bowed his forehead several times to the
+floor, patted his chest, rose and withdrew, praising the Native
+Commissioner as the custom is:
+
+"Great Chief."
+
+"Father of his people."
+
+"The very great doctor."
+
+"Sir, my best thanks."
+
+"The Chief of our country."
+
+"The lion, the great elephant, the Chief."
+
+The head messenger was about to go too, but the Commissioner stopped
+him.
+
+"Mokorongo, you will have to go out and arrest Chiromo."
+
+"To-morrow?"
+
+"To-night."
+
+"His village is far and the sun is setting."
+
+"You will get there before morning and will bring Chiromo back with
+you."
+
+"How many go with me?"
+
+"You go alone."
+
+The messenger was very much afraid. He licked his lips, which had become
+dry, he shuffled with his feet, his gaze wandered from ceiling to floor
+and round the hall in which the Commissioner sat.
+
+"Mokorongo."
+
+"Morena."
+
+"You are afraid."
+
+"I am afraid, Morena."
+
+"Very much afraid."
+
+"Morena."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Is not Chiromo a doctor?"
+
+"What of that?"
+
+"I am but a man, your servant."
+
+"Yes, my servant. Why, then, are you afraid?"
+
+"Morena."
+
+Again the wretched man's eyes looked in any direction but in that of his
+master.
+
+"Mokorongo."
+
+"Morena."
+
+"Are you ready to start? It is getting late."
+
+"Yes, it is late, for the sun sets."
+
+"Are you ready?"
+
+Mokorongo made no reply: he was now quite frightened. In the ordinary
+way this simple native was full of courage, he would follow his master
+anywhere; they had been in a tight corner together more than once and he
+had shown up splendidly. But then his master, in whom he had implicit
+faith, had been there. To go alone to arrest a witch doctor was quite
+another matter. Had not the doctor killed the boy in a strange way? No,
+it was too much to ask a man to do alone, and at night.
+
+The Commissioner walked to his writing table and took from it a heavy
+paperweight, which he handed to Mokorongo.
+
+"Take this with you, it will protect you against Chiromo, for it is
+mine."
+
+The messenger was satisfied; he put the weight inside his tunic and
+turned to go.
+
+"Stop," said the Commissioner, "what are your plans?"
+
+Mokorongo had a quick mind: he unfolded his plan without hesitation.
+
+"I will talk awhile with the stranger, who will tell me of Chiromo;
+whether he has a beard or has no beard; whether he is very old or not so
+old; if he is fat or thin; what his loin cloth is like, or if he wears
+a skin."
+
+"Good, and then?"
+
+"I will travel to the village, which I shall reach before morning. In
+the bush I will hide my uniform. Near the village I will lie in wait. In
+the morning Chiromo will come out of his hut. All day I will watch and
+when the people have eaten and sleep I will arrest Chiromo."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I will go to his hut and call to him, saying that I am a traveller from
+Sijoba on my way to Katora. That the sun has set and I ask for shelter.
+I shall tell him that I have some meat of a buck which I found dead near
+the path. Then Chiromo will open the door of his hut and I shall tie
+him. And he will come with me because of my uniform and the people will
+not hinder me because of my uniform."
+
+"Good, take the handcuffs. But there is one thing you have forgotten.
+You must bring in a basket all Chiromo's medicine."
+
+"I will bring the medicine," replied the messenger, clutching at the
+paperweight which bulged under his tunic.
+
+"Go safely," said the master.
+
+"Rest in peace," replied the man.
+
+The Commissioner watched the retreating figure. The swinging stride
+showed self-confidence and courage. Mokorongo would do successfully what
+was required of him.
+
+
+II.
+
+The dawn was breaking. It had rained all night and the ground was very
+wet. When the first rain falls the earth is slow in absorbing it.
+Little puddles form everywhere and little streams, increasing in volume
+as they join others, make small lakes or rushing torrents, according to
+the lie of the land.
+
+Mokorongo was not comfortable. He had travelled far in the night and had
+stumbled many times in the darkness. Moreover, he was drenched to the
+skin and very cold. The paperweight consoled him, as it had kept up his
+courage throughout his long journey. He remembered now the cry of a
+hyena close to the path at midnight, which had sent his hand clutching
+at the paperweight. Then some large, dark object stirred beside him and
+bounded away, crashing through the bush. Mokorongo's heart had thumped
+in time to the heavy hoof-beats.
+
+However, the dawn had come and his talisman had proved itself a sure
+shield and protection.
+
+The messenger took off his sodden tunic and drew it over his shoulders
+as a cloak against the wind which always heralds the coming day. He
+replaced the paperweight inside his shirt, and buckling on his belt
+again sat down on his heels to watch the village.
+
+Presently smoke arose from the yard of one of the huts, then from
+another. A man came out of a low doorway, stretched and yawned. A dog
+barked, the cattle began to low and fowls to cluck--the day had come.
+
+He had chosen his observation post well. In front of him lay the village
+in a hollow. Behind him, a patch of thick bush. To his left ran the path
+to the cultivated lands and to the next village. On his right was a
+stretch of rough country, good only for baboons and other beasts: it was
+unlikely that he would be disturbed from that or any other quarter.
+
+The village soon showed signs of full life. When the sun came out
+Mokorongo stripped and spread out his tunic, shirt and loin cloth to
+dry, placing the paperweight and handcuffs on a little tuft of short
+grass which was comparatively dry.
+
+As the sun crept up the sky, Mokorongo's back was warmed and he felt
+more comfortable. He watched the coming and going of men, women and
+children until midday. He had easily recognised Chiromo. The father of
+the dead boy had described the witch doctor minutely, but even without
+that description he would have picked him out. He was fat and looked
+prosperous; some half-dozen inflated gall bladders of small mammals were
+tied to tufts of his hair. He wore chillies in the lobes of his ears, a
+sure sign that he had killed a lion--or a man.
+
+His hut, too, was larger than the rest and stood slightly apart. Yes,
+this surely was Chiromo; did he not wear, suspended from a string round
+his waist, the skin of a black tsipa cat? And had not the case-bearer of
+yesterday said: "Chiromo has the skin of a black tsipa?"
+
+Yes, Mokorongo was sure of his man, and as the sun was now hot he
+gathered together his belongings and carried them into the shade of the
+thicket, where he settled himself for a sleep.
+
+At sunset he awoke. He felt hungry and thirsty, but as there were no
+means of satisfying either he turned his mind to the work immediately
+ahead.
+
+He crept back to his original post. The cattle were being kraaled; the
+goats were already settled for the night; women were preparing the
+evening meal.
+
+Mokorongo slipped on his tunic shirt and loin cloth and buckled his
+belt. He put on his fez and tucked the paperweight inside his tunic. He
+then made sure that the handcuffs snapped as they should and that no
+amount of tugging would open them; having reset them he put the key in
+the small pouch attached to his belt.
+
+There is little twilight in Africa. Soon after the sun sets it is dark.
+He could see Chiromo's fire and, in the glow of it, Chiromo sitting on a
+low stool.
+
+Presently the night sounds began. Someone was beating a drum at a
+distant village. A jackal barked far down the valley. Something rustled
+in a bush near by. The frogs set up their shrill chorus. A dog in the
+village began to howl, but stopped with a yelp as some woman threw a
+stick at it.
+
+After a while the fires burnt down; there was silence, and Mokorongo
+judged that the time for action had arrived.
+
+He came down from the high ground and skirted the village until he came
+to the path from Sijoba. Then he turned and walked boldly towards the
+cluster of huts. The dogs began to bark loudly but it didn't matter now:
+was he not a stranger travelling from Sijoba to Katora?
+
+He made his way to Chiromo's hut. The door was closed. Mokorongo
+knocked.
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+"A stranger travelling from Sijoba to Katora."
+
+"It is late, what do you want?"
+
+"Yes, it is late. I ask for shelter for the night. I am in luck, for I
+have found meat and I ask shelter of a friend."
+
+There was a stir in the hut and the word meat was repeated several
+times.
+
+Mokorongo stood ready with the open handcuffs. Would the man never come
+out? Meanwhile the occupants of adjacent huts were also astir and doors
+were being opened. There would be many witnesses to the arrest of
+Chiromo.
+
+At length the door of the hut slid aside, a hand grasped either door
+post and a woolly head appeared. Quick as lightning Mokorongo seized
+Chiromo's right wrist and snapped the lock of the handcuff. Grasping the
+black head, he pulled the startled Chiromo out of the doorway, and
+before the witch doctor had recovered from his surprise, also secured
+his left hand.
+
+Mokorongo stepped back and surveyed his captive.
+
+Chiromo said nothing, but the look in his eye made Mokorongo's hand fly
+to the paperweight. The village was astir, and men came running, but,
+seeing the uniform of authority, stood still.
+
+Mokorongo was himself again. "What is this?" demanded Chiromo.
+
+"The Morena calls you."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"How should I know the Morena's thoughts?"
+
+"Loose my hands or ill-luck will come to you."
+
+Mokorongo said nothing.
+
+"Listen," said Chiromo.
+
+Mokorongo listened and heard the laugh of a hyena.
+
+"That," said Chiromo, "is a spirit."
+
+Mokorongo clutched his paperweight: "It is a beast, and my master's
+medicine is strong."
+
+Chiromo looked round at the circle of fellow villagers; he could not see
+their eyes, but felt that no help might be expected from them; they
+would not come between him and a Government man.
+
+Chiromo tried again.
+
+"In my hut I have much white man's money and a gun--all are yours if you
+will untie my hands; moreover, the iron hurts me and the Morena's orders
+are that no man be hurt."
+
+The mention of the money and the gun reminded Mokorongo of the medicine.
+
+"Go in," he said, pushing Chiromo before him.
+
+It is well that Mokorongo had the paperweight to support his courage.
+
+
+III.
+
+A fire smouldered in a circular hearth in the middle of the floor, but
+the light from it was so dim that nothing more was visible. Mokorongo,
+kneeling deftly, drew together the unburnt sticks and blew upon the
+pile; the suddenness with which it burst into flame startled him. Then
+he rose and looked round the hut.
+
+Chiromo had walked over to his bed; he now sat watching.
+
+The blackened walls were profusely decorated with rude drawings, done in
+light clay, of men and beasts, with here and there a pattern such as one
+sees on primitive earthenware vessels. From the roof, suspended by a
+length of plaited bark, dangled the skull of a human being. Mokorongo
+had seen many human skulls in his time, but, in such a place, this
+ghastly human relic unnerved him a little. The skull spun slightly with
+the air current which entered the open door, and ghostly eyes seemed to
+peer from the empty sockets, first at one man, then at the other, as if
+the lifeless thing were taking a lively interest in the situation.
+
+Mokorongo pretended to scratch himself; what he really did was to shift
+the paperweight until it rested under his left arm. In that position he
+could press it to him without being noticed. The relief it brought was
+great and lasting.
+
+From a peg in the wall hung a mummified mass of what looked suspiciously
+like entrails; whether human or not the messenger did not pause to
+consider. The fleshless forearm and hand of a child protruded from the
+thatch; the fingers were spread out as in the act of grasping. A pile of
+mouldering skins lay on the floor, and beside it a little heap of dead
+chameleons; one, more lately killed than the rest, contributed
+generously to the evil smell which pervaded the hut. Just above this
+carrion was a cluster of black and red weevils as large as mice; they
+hung from a porcupine quill, each tied to it by a thin strand of twisted
+sinew. The aimless movements of legs showed that some of the insects
+were still alive. Here and there, propped against the wall, were gourds
+and pots filled, no doubt, with strange nauseous mixtures brewed by the
+witch doctor for his evil purposes.
+
+Well-worn clothing and filthy rags hung from pegs thrust into the thatch
+where the roof of the hut rested on the mud wall. The bleeding head and
+slimy skin of a freshly killed goat lay on the floor at the foot of the
+bed. Just beyond it was a large basket covered loosely with a leopard
+skin; Mokorongo made a mental note of this.
+
+If Chiromo expected his guard to show any sign of fear, he was
+disappointed. Mokorongo drew a small stool towards him, and sat down;
+with the exception of the bed, it was the only furniture in the hut.
+
+The witch doctor was the first to speak:
+
+"The gun is yours, father, and the money, when you untie my hands so
+that I may get them for you."
+
+"I have two guns in my village," replied the messenger, "and I also have
+much money, for as I am a servant of the Government, I pay no tax."
+
+"Can a man have too much money or too many guns?"
+
+"I cannot say; but, as for me, I have enough."
+
+"How many wives have you?" asked Chiromo.
+
+The messenger did not answer. Such talk did not trouble him. He was a
+simple African, whose one desire was to please his master; he was proof
+against bribery in any form.
+
+Chiromo tried other tactics.
+
+"Yesterday, they say, I killed a man by charms. It is said also that
+many men have died by poison. People fall sick, some say, when I think
+of them in anger. It well may be that your master has fallen sick, for
+my anger is strong towards him, and is rising against his servant, who
+has tied me."
+
+Mokorongo hugged the talisman, but did not reply. He glanced at the
+skull which at that moment swung towards him, then at the hand which, in
+the flicker of the firelight, seemed to reach out to grasp at him. He
+looked at the chameleons, and spat on the floor as he became aware of
+the stench arising from them; next, the aimless waving of the weevils'
+legs attracted his attention, and then his glance rested on the basket
+covered with the leopard skin.
+
+Chiromo was about to speak again, but Mokorongo, springing to his feet,
+interrupted him. His master had said: "Bring Chiromo back with you, and
+bring his medicines." The basket must hold those medicines; moreover,
+the prospect of listening to Chiromo until the morning, seated in the
+midst of his evil properties, was unthinkable. He would feel more at his
+ease walking through the night, although it was so dark and cold.
+
+He went to the door and called. There was no reply. The village was full
+of people, but they had a very real fear of what the witch doctor might
+do. All had crept back to their huts. He called again, and in the name
+of the Government, but still none came.
+
+He shouted, that the whole village might hear: "I take Chiromo to our
+Chief. Bring a rope, that I may tie him and lead him through the night."
+
+Presently a woman appeared, bringing in her hand a stout rope such as
+all natives use for trapping antelope. She handed it to Mokorongo,
+volunteering the information that it was her son whom Chiromo had
+killed. She did not actually say that he had been killed, neither did
+she mention Chiromo's name--she dared not do this--but she did say that
+before sunrise her son had been buried.
+
+Mokorongo tied a slip-knot in the rope and passed it over Chiromo's
+head. A sharp tug, accompanied by a peremptory "Stand, you!" brought
+Chiromo quickly to his feet.
+
+Indicating successively the horrors hanging from the roof and walls, he
+said: "Put that, and this, and those into the basket."
+
+Chiromo hesitated, but only for a moment; a tightening rope round one's
+neck has an unpleasant feeling. With his manacled hands he picked up
+each repulsive thing and thrust it into the basket.
+
+"Bring the basket," Mokorongo commanded, moving towards the door.
+Outside in the black night, and conscious of the paperweight under his
+arm, the messenger's full courage and sense of authority returned to
+him.
+
+"Let all witnesses to this big case follow quickly to the Court; it is
+the order of the Chief and the law of the Government."
+
+Then, helping Chiromo to encircle the basket with his arms, he strode
+off down the path leading from the village, his captive, securely
+handcuffed and led by the rope round his neck, following tamely enough.
+
+
+IV.
+
+The witnesses were many--of all ages and of both sexes. The case
+promised to be a famous one, so relations and friends had come from the
+villages round about to attend. The people had travelled slowly,
+consequently it was late in the afternoon when they arrived.
+
+The Native Commissioner had decided to take evidence on the morrow; the
+people were therefore directed to camp by the river for the night.
+Chiromo was to remain in the cell to which he had been conducted earlier
+in the day by the messenger.
+
+Mokorongo was very happy. He had presented himself to his master on
+arrival, returned the paperweight, reported the arrest of Chiromo, and
+had handed over the basket of medicines. He would have told his story
+then and there, but the Commissioner, who was busy, dismissed him with
+"Good, now go and eat and sleep. You can return at sundown and tell me
+everything. I will listen to the witnesses to-morrow."
+
+But, of course, Mokorongo did not sleep. He felt a hero, and was so
+regarded by his fellow messengers and others. He told the story of his
+adventures to all who cared to hear, and they were many. Little work was
+done that day by any native on the Station.
+
+With much telling the story improved almost beyond recognition. For
+instance, his seventh audience was thrilled by the recitation of the
+threatening words which the skull had addressed to him; knots of woolly
+hair rose when the efforts of the fleshless hand to grasp the master's
+talisman were described; the brave words which Mokorongo had addressed
+to the basket of medicines when it had shown an inclination to escape by
+the door drew grunts of admiration; a shudder ran through his hearers
+when he repeated what the dead chameleons had related to him--how they
+had once been men, until transformed and killed by the very bad man now
+under arrest.
+
+The narrative was interrupted by one of the house-boys: "You are
+called," was the curt command, meaning that his master wished to see
+Mokorongo.
+
+Under the stimulus of the great admiration of his fellows, generously
+expressed, Mokorongo had given free play to his imagination. His
+narrative had become thrilling; but now, under the cold eye of the
+master, fancy fled, and the messenger's account of himself conformed to
+the court formula--the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
+truth.
+
+How Chiromo passed the night cannot, of course, be told. He might have
+spent the time preparing his defence; it is much more likely that he
+simply slept.
+
+
+V.
+
+Everything was ready for the hearing of the case. On the veranda of the
+Court House the Commissioner's table had been placed. Conspicuous upon
+it was the paperweight. On the ground in front of it lay the witch
+doctor's basket with its leopard skin covering. On the right sat
+Chiromo; he was still handcuffed, but without the rope round his neck.
+By his side stood Mokorongo. Immediately behind them were ranged the
+rest of the messengers attached to the Station. They, with the Court
+House, formed two sides of a square: the figure was completed by the
+crowd of witnesses seated on the ground.
+
+Presently the Commissioner was seen approaching along the path which
+led from his house. The people began to clap their hands, which, in
+certain parts of Africa, is the native way of showing respect. As the
+Commissioner appeared on the verandah, the messengers saluted him by
+raising their right hands above their heads and ejaculating "Morena."
+
+The Commissioner nodded by way of acknowledgment, the people ceased to
+clap; there was dead silence.
+
+The white man looked across his table at the witch doctor. For a time he
+said nothing. Chiromo blinked and looked away. Glancing up and finding
+that unpleasantly steady gaze upon him still, he again looked quickly
+away.
+
+"Unlock those handcuffs," said the Commissioner. Mokorongo produced the
+key from the pouch on his belt and freed the witch doctor's hands.
+
+Addressing Chiromo, the official asked: "Is it true that you are the
+killer of people?"
+
+"It is not true," replied Chiromo.
+
+"Can you kill people by means of charms and medicines?"
+
+Chiromo said he could not.
+
+"Is that your basket?"
+
+"Yes, it is my basket."
+
+"What is in the basket?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"Are not the things in the basket yours?"
+
+"No, they are your messenger's; he put them in my basket."
+
+Mokorongo was indignant at the lie. The witnesses, too, were amazed at
+Chiromo's effrontery. But none spoke.
+
+"Take the things out of the basket one by one and place them on the
+ground in front of you."
+
+The witch doctor without hesitation began to do as he was bid. The
+skull, the arm, the weevils as large as mice, the chameleons, the stale
+offal: these Mokorongo had seen in the hut, but there were other things
+he had not seen. A necklet of human teeth, another of small antelope
+horns, yet another of rats' skulls. These were followed by the shell of
+a very small tortoise, a bush buck's horn containing a reddish-coloured
+paste, four discs of ivory strangely carved, commonly known as "witch
+doctor's bones," a small piece of looking-glass, a dozen or more little
+bundles of something tied up in scraps of rag, a piece of red clay, a
+length of snake's skin, several cartridge cases plugged with pieces of
+wood, the sun-dried paw of a monkey, the beaks of several birds, a
+feather ball or two, another set of "bones," a small knife with a wooden
+sheath, a little gourd covered with beads, some charms of various sizes
+and shapes to wear round the neck or wrist. There were many other bits
+of rubbish which, at a sign from his master, Mokorongo emptied out on
+the ground.
+
+Under the direction of the Commissioner, Chiromo's possessions were
+separated into two heaps. The skull, the arm, the offal, and anything
+else of which there was only a single specimen, made one heap. The
+chameleons, and anything of which there were more than one, were
+carefully divided, half placed on one heap and the remainder on the
+other.
+
+"None of these things are yours?" asked the Commissioner.
+
+"None, save the leopard skin," said Chiromo.
+
+"Those I shall want later on," said the Commissioner, pointing to the
+larger heap, "the rest you shall burn."
+
+The witch doctor collected some dry grass, and some twigs and some
+larger sticks. The Commissioner produced a box of matches. Mokorongo lit
+the grass. The twigs crackled, the sticks caught fire and burned
+brightly.
+
+"Put those things on the fire," said the Commissioner, pointing to the
+smaller of the two heaps.
+
+Chiromo paused and looked round at the witnesses in a strange manner. As
+his eyes sought out those of each witness ranged against him, his
+personality made itself felt. Men quailed, women covered their faces,
+and children cried lustily. The witch doctor pointed suddenly to the
+sky, then at the ground, and then at the witnesses. Picking up a
+chameleon he dangled it over the flame; he did not drop it in the fire,
+but looked round again with a malignant grin. This was more than the
+witnesses could stand; they bolted as fast as their legs could carry
+them. Something dreadful was about to happen. When doctors engaged in a
+trial of strength, ordinary men were better out of the way. The
+messengers alone stood fast. They kept their eyes on Mokorongo who, in
+turn, watched the Commissioner.
+
+"Bring back the headman," thundered the Commissioner; "two of you will
+do," as all the messengers started off.
+
+The headman of the village in which Chiromo lived was quickly brought
+back, and stood, covering his eyes with his hands.
+
+"Now go on with the burning," ordered the Commissioner.
+
+The tone of authority was unmistakable, so Chiromo complied without
+further ado.
+
+One by one the medicines, necklets, charms and other rubbish were
+dropped into the fire. After a while, the headman removed his hands from
+his face. It was evident that the white man was the stronger doctor of
+the two. Chiromo had looked very bad, it was true, but he had been able
+to do nothing. One by one the witnesses crept back and took their seats.
+
+The Commissioner then sent for one of his house-boys and gave him an
+order in an undertone. The boy presently returned, carrying a carpet
+slipper.
+
+"Hold Chiromo face downwards on the ground," said the Commissioner. The
+messengers obeyed. "Now, Mokorongo, beat him."
+
+And Mokorongo did so, in the manner of a mother chastising her
+child--but rather harder.
+
+Chiromo squealed, promising loudly never to offend again. Then someone
+laughed, then another and another; presently all were laughing--with the
+exception of Chiromo--even the Commissioner smiled: Mokorongo stopped
+beating and laughed too.
+
+The messengers released their hold on Chiromo, who got up rubbing a
+certain portion of his anatomy. Everybody laughed again.
+
+Laughter at a man kills faith in him. The spell was broken. From that
+day forward this witch doctor, once powerful in hypnotic suggestion, was
+as other men.
+
+"And now," said the Commissioner, "we will hear the evidence."
+
+The preliminary examination in the case of Rex v. Chiromo then began.
+
+
+
+
+THE RIDDLE OF LIFE AND DEATH.
+
+
+Of the many curios which I acquired during my twenty-five years'
+residence in Africa, there is one which I value above all others. I
+bought it a few weeks before I left the country. It is a round wooden
+pot with a lid to it. On the lid is the seated figure of a little old
+man with his shoulders hunched up, his chin resting in his two hands,
+his elbows on his knees. There is a mildly amused expression on the
+rudely carved face; whether this is there by accident or design I cannot
+say. On one side of the pot is a snake in relief; on the other, a
+tortoise.
+
+I bought this pot from a very old native. So old was he that his scanty
+knots of hair were quite white and his eyes were very dim. He must have
+been a fine enough man once, but now his dull, greyish-black skin clung
+in folds about his gaunt frame. I paid the old man the modest price he
+named, and asked him the meaning of the figures on the lid and sides of
+the pot.
+
+The following is his explanation, given in short, jerky sentences, done
+into English as literally as our language will permit:
+
+"Yes, it was a long time ago. So long ago was it that no white man had
+then come to this country. It was before my father's day. Before that
+even of his father. Both died old men. Yes, so long ago was it, that
+only the old people now speak of those past times. It was when men did
+not grow old and die. There was no death then; all men lived on, and
+happily.
+
+"One day all this was changed. God became angry--that is God on the lid
+of the pot. What foolish things men did to make God angry, I do not
+know. He must have been very angry. In his anger God sent His messenger
+of death to men. He sent His messenger, the snake. Then people began to
+die--that is the snake on the side of the pot.
+
+"So many people died that all became frightened. They thought all would
+soon be dead. In their fear they cried to God. They said they were sorry
+for their foolish act, whatever that might have been. They promised they
+would anger Him no more. They begged Him to recall His messenger, the
+snake.
+
+"After a while God agreed. He said He would recall His messenger, the
+snake. He would send another messenger--that is the second messenger on
+the other side of the pot. God sent the tortoise to recall the snake."
+
+The old man paused and mused for a little while, and then resumed:
+
+"When I was a young man I thought to myself, perhaps the tortoise will
+overtake the snake; that some day he will deliver God's message. I am an
+old man now. I do not think the tortoise will ever overtake the
+snake--at least, not in my time."
+
+He said all this without a trace of emotion. He was too much of a
+philosopher, it seemed, to indulge in anything so profitless as
+self-pity.
+
+"Do you kill snakes when you see them?" I asked.
+
+"No," said he. "Why should I? But I do kill tortoises. The tortoise is
+very lazy. He runs with his message so slowly. Moreover, a tortoise is
+good meat."
+
+Having told his story and pouched the price of his pot, the old man rose
+painfully and hobbled away. Just outside my compound gate he paused and
+made a vicious stab at something in a patch of grass.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Shouldering his assegai, he passed on his way, a writhing tortoise
+impaled upon the blade.
+
+
+
+
+FLATTERY.
+
+
+I.
+
+Robert Gregory was proud of his house. A Colonial Bishop, passing
+through on his way to England, stayed with Gregory; in his
+bread-and-butter letter he wrote:
+
+"... I think your house the most beautiful and unique in Central
+Africa...."
+
+Unique perhaps it was, but scarcely beautiful.
+
+When all is said and done, it was merely the ordinary bungalow of which
+one finds examples all over Africa. In size it was very modest, having
+only a hall, with a dining-room on one side and a bedroom on the other.
+There were in addition various excrescences, termed locally "lean-to's."
+One of these was a pantry, another a storeroom, a third a bathroom, and
+so on. No, it must have been to the interior decorations that the Bishop
+referred.
+
+Gregory hoped to marry when next he went to England. During his last
+visit to the old country, on leave, he became engaged.
+
+The woman of his choice had once remarked to him: "I do hope you have
+heaps and heaps of curios."
+
+On his return to Africa Gregory began to collect curios, and now he had
+indeed "heaps and heaps" of them. You see, he had his excuses.
+
+On the walls of the hall were trophies of assegais and shields. These
+trophies were arranged in the approved armoury manner; that is to say, a
+shield in the centre with assegai blades radiating from it in all
+directions.
+
+Flanking each of the principal trophies were lesser ones, composed of
+battle-axes in groups of two or three. These battle-axes were
+murderous-looking things. The heads of some were crescent-shaped, others
+were merely wedges of metal.
+
+In the intervening spaces were a variety of knives remarkable chiefly
+for their sheaths, which were curiously shaped and carved. There was a
+dado, too, round the wall, made of arrows arranged head downwards
+towards the floor. These were surmounted by bows fixed horizontally to
+the wall; they completed the dado, as it were.
+
+On the other two sides ancient guns of various makes and ages took the
+place of the arrows. There were flint locks, Tower muskets, Portuguese,
+French and German smooth-bore rifles, gaily decorated by native owners
+with bands of highly polished copper round the barrel and brass-headed
+nails driven into the stock.
+
+On a shelf, which ran round the hall a few feet from the ceiling, were
+specimens of native pottery. Some were highly coloured, others dull red.
+All had curious patterns scratched on them, done before baking, and most
+of them bore fire marks and other evidence that their makers were
+somewhat lacking in the potter's skill. The shapes, however, were
+pleasing.
+
+The dining-room held a miscellaneous collection. The principal objects
+were musical instruments, chiefly of the harmonica variety, strips of
+hard wood suspended over gourds of different sizes. In the bad old days
+human skulls were used in place of gourds. But there were many others,
+both string and wind instruments, and some rattles.
+
+In this room was also a collection of snuff boxes; nearly all of them
+were minute gourds, differing one from another in decoration. Some were
+completely covered with gaily coloured beads affixed cunningly and in
+pleasing patterns. Some were banded with beads, which gave them the
+appearance of small school globes. Others, again, were simply carved in
+relief, whilst a few were decorated with plaited brass, copper, or iron
+wire. All were very neatly made.
+
+Occupying a space between a window and a door was a unique collection of
+snuff spoons. These were nearly all made of bright metal. Not only do
+the natives use them for taking snuff, but also for preparing to take
+snuff and for recovering after snuffing. To be quite plain, they use
+them as our snuff-taking ancestors used their bandannas. They have yet a
+third use, namely, scraping the skin on a hot day.
+
+The only reason why Gregory had so many of these nasty little implements
+was that they were so neatly made and in such diversity of pattern.
+
+In the spaces usually occupied by pictures were specimens of the native
+weavers' art, very highly coloured cloths of coarse texture. On shelves
+over the doors and windows of his dining-room were pots, mugs, bowls,
+and platters of carved wood. The patterns were curiously like those one
+finds on early pottery dug up in such quantities and in so many spots
+along the shores of the Mediterranean. A kaross or skin blanket was
+thrown over the back of almost every chair and covered the one settee.
+
+There was hardly anything of European manufacture in the hall and
+dining-room. Even the tables and chairs were native made and of country
+timber. In place of carpets, the floors were covered with rush and reed
+mats ornamented with strange patterns done in brightly dyed bark and
+fibre.
+
+The bedroom alone held nothing but European furniture.
+
+The collection was certainly a remarkable one--I have not attempted a
+complete inventory--and Gregory had taken great pains to arrange it, as
+some would say, artistically.
+
+One day five natives arrived carrying a letter addressed to Gregory. It
+was from a woman, Chief in her own right. It ran as follows:
+
+                                                             APRIL.
+
+     MY FRIEND,
+
+     I send to you my servant Siadiadiadi with four others. As I cannot
+     come to you myself I send my five people. I have heard much of your
+     fine house and wish to see it. As I am old I send my people that
+     they may see it and bring me word of it. I ask you to let them see
+     it for three days, and on the fourth they shall return to me.
+
+     I am well and all my people are well, but the cattle have a
+     disease. I hope you are well.
+
+     I must close my letter now with greetings.
+
+                             Your faithful friend,
+
+                                                          MOVANA.
+
+     Written by interpreter Jacob Mazuni.
+
+I believe Gregory was pleased: at any rate he permitted the messengers
+to see his house. For the full three days they stayed. He often found
+them agape in the hall or in the dining room, taking mental notes. It
+was clear that the five natives were much impressed. Whenever Gregory
+entered the house, they saluted him and crept silently out. There was
+no reason to guard against theft; uncivilised natives do not steal.
+
+On the fourth day Siadiadiadi and his companions thanked Gregory in the
+name of their mistress and went away.
+
+  O wad some power the giftie gie us
+    To see oorsel's as ithers see us!
+  It wad frae monie a blunder free us
+    And foolish notion.
+
+
+II.
+
+Some six months later Gregory, travelling to the extreme limit of his
+district, found himself within easy distance of the village occupied by
+the Chieftainess who had been so curious about his house. He felt
+inclined to go out of his way to see her. When he was resting at midday
+a native brought him a letter which helped him to make up his mind to do
+so.
+
+     MY FRIEND,
+
+     I hear that you have arrived near to my village. Please come and
+     see my house. I think you will like it. Hoping you are well, with
+     greetings.
+
+                                 Your faithful friend,
+
+                                                        MOVANA.
+
+     Written by interpreter Jacob Mazuni. I, too, send greetings.
+
+So Gregory went to see the house.
+
+Outside the village he was met by the usual gathering of elderly
+headmen, polite and dignified, who led him to the door of their Chief's
+house.
+
+The house was barnlike, with a high, well-thatched roof.
+
+At the entrance stood the owner. She was very stout and wore a print
+dress. A red shawl was thrown over her shoulders, and she had a very
+small straw hat perched on her large, woolly head. Gregory noticed that
+the hat was very much on one side. Her feet were bare.
+
+After unusually hearty greetings she led the white man into her house.
+
+When Gregory stepped over the threshold he stopped and stood looking
+from wall to wall aghast. The old black woman interpreted his open mouth
+to indicate admiration, wonder. This is what he saw.
+
+On a deal table a complete toilet set. Complete to the extent that it
+included two of those very intimate pieces of domestic furniture seldom
+seen outside the shops where toilet ware is sold, and surely never
+before exhibited with pride by the owner. Hanging awkwardly from a nail
+in the wall, a slop pail of enamelled iron. This was supported on the
+one side by a dustpan and brush, on the other by a pair of elastic-sided
+boots. On each side of this remarkable trophy were pinned two very
+ordinary coloured pocket handkerchiefs.
+
+On a small corner shelf was a large brown earthenware teapot with the
+words "Advance Australia" done in raised letters. Four enamelled ware
+egg cups were its companions.
+
+One wall was devoted exclusively to kitchen utensils; new tin kettles
+predominated, but almost everything was represented.
+
+Opposite this bright array the wall was literally covered with bedding.
+The centre piece was a mattress; sheets on one side, blankets on the
+other, pillows above, bolsters below.
+
+But what shocked Gregory more than anything else was a regular trousseau
+of feminine underclothing, ranged round the door through which he had
+entered. He blushed hotly and with difficulty suppressed an impulse to
+bolt without ceremony.
+
+"What do you think of my house, my friend?"
+
+"I think it--er--beautiful, the most wonderful in all the world."
+
+"Yes, I thought you would like it. Do you not like the things my people
+use? For myself, I like the things the white people use. You put the
+black man's things in your house. I put the white man's things in my
+house. We are two friends who have the same thoughts. You buy from the
+people. I buy from the traders. The traders have promised to bring me
+many more things. My house is not finished yet. After the rains it will
+be finished, then you must come and see it again."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Gregory reached his bungalow after his journey he stripped his
+walls and packed all his curios in boxes. These he despatched to his
+father in England, who was very pleased with them.
+
+He replaced his curios by the Hundred Best Pictures, framed suitably in
+fumed oak.
+
+
+
+
+"LIZIZI."
+
+
+I.
+
+The Native Commissioner was hurrying home. It was nearly midday and
+getting hot. Moreover, he had been on a long journey and was anxious to
+get back to his bungalow which, for him, meant a measure of
+civilisation. His garden, his books, prints on the wall, white ducks,
+fair cooking and no more tinned food for a while, a cool verandah and
+occasional converse with his fellow officials. At daylight he had left
+his caravan to follow whilst he pushed on ahead.
+
+His sturdy horse also had thoughts of home for, in spite of the heat, he
+cantered briskly along the dusty road without any encouragement from his
+master. Half a mile from the house a short cut skirted a patch of young
+gum trees and led through the servants' compound to the back door of the
+bungalow.
+
+The horse, without hesitation and not waiting for direction, took the
+short cut. As a general rule the Commissioner chose the longer way. He
+preferred entering his own house by the front door; he had designed and
+built his home himself and had given much thought to its face and
+approach, for, who could tell, might he not some day lead an English
+bride up the winding drive?
+
+The Commissioner let the beast have his way: he was amused and, leaning
+forward, patted his horse's neck.
+
+As he clattered through the compound he caught sight of some of his
+servants conversing with a stranger. There was nothing remarkable in
+that, but two things he noticed. One, that his people did not see or
+hear him until he was almost abreast of them, and secondly, that the
+stranger, a native from the river district, let him pass without the
+usual salute.
+
+He rode on and dismounted at the back of the house. A groom took his
+horse. A small boy opened the door for him and led him through to the
+front hall. The Commissioner dropped into a chair and, after a short
+rest, busied himself with getting comfortable.
+
+A shave, followed by a hot bath, a change into "slacks," a light
+luncheon, and a pipe. Then he attacked his accumulated mail. He had
+scarcely sorted his home from his official letters--the latter could
+well wait--when his head house boy came in rather breathless.
+
+"Morena," he said, "what is to-day?"
+
+"What do you mean, the day of the month or of the week, and why do you
+ask?"
+
+"Oh no," said the boy, "but what is the number of the day?"
+
+"Tuesday the sixth. Why?"
+
+"It is only that I wanted to know, for has not the Morena been absent
+for a great many days?"
+
+"Well, it's the sixth, Tuesday the sixth of September."
+
+"Thank you, Morena."
+
+The boy withdrew.
+
+The Native Commissioner turned to his letters again. His mother had
+written pages telling him of his sister's engagement to his oldest
+friend; his sister wrote more pages about her happiness; his father
+referred to his younger brother at Oxford, to the engagement just
+announced, and described the latest strike at some length.
+
+Presently he got up and went out to the verandah to stretch his legs. He
+admired his garden and mentally praised his own cunning in setting it
+out. The rains had not yet broken but some of the trees were already in
+new leaf. What a blaze of colour there would be in a few weeks!
+
+"Morena, what day is it to-day?"
+
+Turning, he met the gaze of a garden labourer who, spade in hand, was
+standing slightly in advance of some half a dozen of his fellows.
+
+"The sixth. But why do you ask?"
+
+"It is because black people do not know how to count, and one day with
+us is as another."
+
+All returned to their work. A few minutes later the dog boy came with a
+litter born during his master's absence. They were a likely looking lot
+and the native took personally the remarks passed upon his charge: he
+appeared to assume responsibility for their colour, shape and sex.
+
+"Morena, what day is it to-day?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"See, Morena, I mark each day on a stick; the dogs were born ten days
+ago."
+
+"Well, it's the sixth."
+
+"Thank you, Morena."
+
+At sundown the cattle came in. The herdsman came up to the house to
+report that the two calves born whilst his master was away on his
+journey were heifers, and received a few shillings as a reward for his
+good management When bull calves came the cattle herd made many excuses
+and neither expected nor received any reward.
+
+"You have done well."
+
+"Thank you, Morena," said the boy, tying the silver in a corner of his
+loin cloth. "What is the number of the day to-day?"
+
+Now this was the fourth time the question had been asked. What did it
+mean? Could it mean anything of importance and, if so, what?
+
+But the Commissioner decided in his own mind that his people had some
+trivial dispute and were appealing to him to settle a knotty point.
+Still, he felt a little curious as to what that point might be, but
+knowing natives well, concluded that he would hear about it all in good
+time.
+
+He asked no question this time but replied simply: "The sixth."
+
+The news of his return spread quickly and several officials dropped in
+for a "sundowner." Headquarters news, dull and trivial as it usually is,
+was quickly disposed of. The Browns had gone home on leave, Jones had
+just come back, and Robinson had passed the law exam very well. A lion
+had been heard outside the township, and a mad cur had run amok through
+the compounds and, as a result, several good dogs had been shot and half
+a dozen natives sent south for treatment.
+
+What sport had the Commissioner had?
+
+On the whole, bad; he had missed a black-maned lion in a patch of bush
+near the river, and as the beast slipped through to the main forest he
+didn't bother to follow. He had, however, bagged a small leopard and two
+full-grown cheetahs. There were plenty of birds and buck about and, oh,
+yes, he had killed a bad old buffalo bull who nearly turned the tables
+on him. After listening to the details of the adventure, the visitors
+rose to leave.
+
+No, he would not join them at the Club later, he felt tired and was
+looking forward to a comfortable bed for a change.
+
+The Commissioner dined alone and turned in early.
+
+In the morning he woke with a start. It was late, nearly eight o'clock;
+what the deuce were his people about?
+
+He jumped out of bed and went to the bath-room. The bath was not set
+ready. He called to his boy. There was no answer. He slipped on a
+dressing gown and went to the kitchen. It was empty, the fire was not
+even lighted. He went back to the house for a pair of slippers and a hat
+and walked across to the native compound. By this time he was very
+angry.
+
+To his amazement, the compound was quite empty. On his way back he
+looked in at the stable. His horses whinnied: they had not been fed, nor
+had the stable been cleaned. He fed the horses himself and then walked
+over to the cattle kraal. His half-dozen cows had not been milked.
+
+At that moment the Magistrate came up.
+
+"What's the matter with the natives?"
+
+"I don't know, why?"
+
+"Not a black soul in the township will do a hand's turn."
+
+"Mine aren't here."
+
+"Is there going to be a rising?"
+
+"Certainly not. You people who live in camp are always expecting
+risings."
+
+"Well, you know best, of course, but the boys refuse to work. They say
+Lizizi has told them not to."
+
+"Who's Lizizi?"
+
+"How should I know? I came to ask you that."
+
+"Never heard of him."
+
+"Well, what are you going to do about it?"
+
+"I don't know yet. Send some of your people down to me, mine have made
+themselves scarce."
+
+"Right, but what are you going to do to them?"
+
+"Nothing, of course, except question them."
+
+"I'll send my two house boys down."
+
+"Send your cook as well."
+
+"Why my cook?"
+
+"Because I haven't had my breakfast yet."
+
+"Well, neither have I for that matter."
+
+"Then you had better come with them, we'll have breakfast all right."
+
+The Magistrate went away and the Commissioner returned to his house to
+dress.
+
+He hated having no bath; he disliked, too, going without breakfast.
+Discomfort on a journey he thought nothing of, but discomfort in his own
+home was ridiculous.
+
+When the Commissioner emerged from his room, dressed but unshaven, and
+in a very bad temper, he found his head native in the hall and the rest
+of the servants standing on the verandah.
+
+"We wish to speak with you," said the boy.
+
+"I, too, have something to say."
+
+"We cannot work to-day. To-morrow we will work."
+
+"You will work to-day and now."
+
+"No, Morena, we cannot work to-day, to-morrow we will work well."
+
+"Why can't you work to-day?"
+
+"Because Lizizi says we may not work to-day."
+
+"Who's Lizizi?"
+
+"A great doctor."
+
+"Where is he?" said the Commissioner, looking round.
+
+"No, he is not here, Morena, he lives on the Zambesi. He sent his man
+with a message yesterday."
+
+"Was that the messenger I saw in the compound?"
+
+"Yes, Morena."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"He has gone."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"He did not say where he was going. He told us he must carry the
+master's messages."
+
+"What are the messages?"
+
+"No man may work for his master to-day."
+
+"What are the others?"
+
+"That is all he said to us."
+
+"Have you eaten this morning?"
+
+"Yes, Morena."
+
+"Then bring breakfast for the Magistrate and me, and quickly."
+
+"But, Morena--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I may not work to-day."
+
+"Breakfast is food, not work. Bring it."
+
+"Yes, Morena."
+
+The boy went out. The Commissioner turned to the rest of his servants.
+
+"You won't work to-day?"
+
+The cattle herd answered: "We may not, it is forbidden."
+
+"Who forbids you?"
+
+"Lizizi."
+
+"Who is Lizizi?"
+
+"The great doctor."
+
+"Great?"
+
+"Yes, Morena. Does he not jump into the river and come out alive on the
+third day?"
+
+"I should say not, but where does he live?"
+
+"At Minanga, on the Zambesi."
+
+"Go to your work. I will visit this Lizizi. There is some mistake. The
+messenger is a foolish fellow, he had forgotten his master's words. I
+will see to it. Tell all the people that I go on a visit to Lizizi. He
+who does not work now and at once and well will meet with misfortune."
+
+The servants dispersed to their various occupations. Slowly at first,
+and with evident reluctance; but, hearing that the head boy was busy
+getting his master's breakfast, they, too, set about their various
+duties.
+
+When the Magistrate arrived he found everything normal. He had breakfast
+with the Commissioner. When the meal was over he found his own servants
+had gone back to his compound. The word had spread abroad that the
+Commissioner would visit Lizizi and put matters right.
+
+"How did you do it?"
+
+"Just talked to them a little."
+
+"No violence, I hope?"
+
+"Unnecessary."
+
+"What was it all about?"
+
+"I know no more than you, but intend to find out."
+
+In a few hours the Commissioner was on his way to Minanga, on the
+Zambesi, the home of Lizizi, the great doctor.
+
+
+II.
+
+All next day, and for several days following, natives might be seen
+passing south in the direction of Minanga. The curious thing about these
+flocks of travellers was that they were chiefly composed of
+children--little children, from infants in arms to boys and girls of
+nine or ten, none older. When questioned, the parents would reply
+simply: "We are called. We are called to Minanga by Lizizi--by Lizizi,
+the great doctor."
+
+The native servants who worked in the houses of the officials could, or
+would, give no fuller explanation. "Yes, they are called by Lizizi," was
+the only answer to all questioning.
+
+In the Club, speculation as to what the Commissioner would do
+monopolised the conversation. Nearly all the officials wagered on a
+native rising. The Commandant of Police went about to prepare
+systematically for an event of this kind.
+
+
+III.
+
+The Commissioner travelled light and quickly. He, too, passed hordes of
+natives, mostly children. He, too, learnt that Lizizi called--that
+Lizizi had apparently mustered all the children of the district. He was
+now doubly certain that this was no native rebellion, or the children
+would have been conspicuously absent. He grudged Lizizi this implicit
+obedience. Two could not run the same country.
+
+At length he approached Minanga. The neighbouring villages were thronged
+with children. In Minanga itself there were many hundreds. The
+Commissioner rode to the centre of the village and demanded to be shown
+Lizizi's hut. He was led up the hill to a single small hut built
+half-way up the slope. In front of it grew a huge tamarind tree.
+
+"There is Lizizi," said his guide, pointing to an old man sitting on a
+stool in front of the hut.
+
+The Commissioner watched. A strange performance was going on. A long
+queue of children was moving slowly past the seated figure, and as each
+child was marshalled forward--screaming with fright, for the most
+part--the old man put his hands on its head.
+
+The Commissioner rode up to the hut. The old man touched the head of the
+child in front of him with his crossed thumbs; that was all, and the
+child passed hurriedly on to join a throng, already large, of others who
+had passed through the ordeal, or whatever it was.
+
+On seeing the Commissioner the old man rose and seated himself on the
+ground, clapping his hands by way of greeting.
+
+This curious native wore a large pair of spectacles, which gave him a
+benevolent air. His feet were bare--so, too, was his head--but he was
+otherwise clothed to the extent of a patched and very dirty shirt and an
+aged pair of trousers.
+
+"Are you Lizizi?" asked the Commissioner.
+
+"Morena, I am his slave."
+
+"Where is Lizizi?"
+
+"He walked on the water. Then he went to the bottom of the river and
+stayed there. After three days he came out alive and well. Some people
+said so who saw him."
+
+"Where is he now?"
+
+"Who can tell?"
+
+"Did you send that message to the servants of the white men, saying that
+they were not to work?"
+
+"I sent my master's message."
+
+"What are you doing to these children?"
+
+"My master said they must come."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"I put my hands on them, as my master said. Lizizi said: 'Let the
+children come, the little children, and do not stop them.' And Lizizi
+said: 'You must work for six days, and on the seventh day you must not
+do anything.'"
+
+So that was the explanation. It came to the Commissioner in a flash.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked.
+
+"My name is Sinyoro."
+
+"You have worked for a white man?"
+
+"Yes, I was with the Mission."
+
+"I thought as much."
+
+"Lizizi" was the nearest this native could get to Jesus. The poor old
+man was, it transpired, a little mad. He had lived with the missionaries
+for many years, and had recently asked permission to visit friends on
+the Zambesi. The head missionary had let him go. As he afterwards
+explained, he knew the man was a little mad, but quite harmless. They
+had christened him James--James Sinyoro.
+
+However, James, it seemed, had been trying his prentice hand at
+missionary work, and had given orders based on the little he remembered
+of the Mission Bible teaching.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+James Sinyoro returned to the Mission Station, and the district to its
+normal tranquillity.
+
+
+
+
+MIRONDA--A WOMAN.
+
+
+The Paramount Chief had many wives. A newly arrived missionary,
+determined to convert the great man, opened his attack by asking why he
+had so many wives. The answer was disconcerting: "For political
+reasons." This matter of the Chief's was a rock upon which all
+missionary endeavours foundered. The Chief must discard all his wives,
+save one. The Chief was determined to keep them all.
+
+To another reformer he said: "Leave me alone. Do what you will with the
+children and young people. Leave me to myself. You have shown me that my
+beliefs are foolish. You have not proved to me that yours are any
+wiser."
+
+A third good man, about to transfer his activities to other fields,
+offered to present the Chief with his bright brass bedstead provided he
+became a Christian.
+
+"Let me see it," said the old heathen. The bed was produced. "I have a
+better one. I paid a trader ten head of cattle for it." So no bargain
+was struck.
+
+I think there must have been some grounds for saying that he clung to
+his many wives "for political reasons," because they, or at any rate
+some of them, were more trouble to the Chief than they were perhaps
+worth.
+
+There was Mavevana, for instance, who was large and fat and therefore
+very beautiful from a native point of view, but whose tongue was a
+constant source of strife without and within the harem.
+
+I should explain that each wife had her own group of huts. These
+groups--there were seventeen of them--were surrounded by a high reed
+fence, strengthened by sharply-pointed poles. The harem was a village
+within a village. Outside the fence the common people lived.
+
+Each woman had her slaves. A strong guard of fully-armed men patrolled
+the harem at night. Old Sikoro, the keeper of the harem, was about day
+and night.
+
+Then there was Mironda. Poor Mironda, who later paid, as women do, be
+they white, black or yellow.
+
+Mironda was rather nearer to yellow than to black. I think she had some
+European blood in her. One does not often see a native woman with hazel
+eyes nor with freckles; and besides, she was very tall and slim.
+
+As a special mark of his good will the Chief once took me through his
+harem. That is how I first came to see Mironda.
+
+The woman aroused my interest. When we entered her compound she glared
+at her lord and master as a caged beast does upon free men. She did not
+for a moment take her eyes off him. She never so much as glanced in my
+direction. Her eyes caught the light once and reflected it as do those
+of a cat, a tiger. Yes, that was it, she put me in mind of a caged
+tiger.
+
+She clasped her hands continuously during our short stay. The click,
+click, click of her ivory bangles drew my attention to her hands. Her
+hands and her wrists were very small, her finger nails long and sharp. I
+noticed her hands particularly because she had solid ivory bangles on
+each arm from wrist to elbow. These bangles were very small and, as they
+were solid, could only pass over very small hands.
+
+I saw this curious woman twice only: the second time was some years
+later.
+
+As I have said before, old Sikoro was the keeper of the harem. I hated
+him instinctively the moment I first set eyes on him: I hated him more
+when I heard the whole story.
+
+Sikoro had only one eye. In his youth he had had smallpox, which pitted
+his face remorselessly and destroyed one eye. He wore a soldier's red
+tunic, the colour dimmed with age and dirt. Perched on his head was a
+tall cone-shaped fur cap which he plucked off whenever he met a
+superior. He was always plucking it off, not because he was really
+inferior in the black man's social scale to all he so saluted; on the
+contrary, in view of his office, he was an important person; he was over
+polite because he chose to appear humble.
+
+The man knew his power well: his occupation gave him the ear of the
+Chief. All realized this and were ready to show him the respect which
+was justly his due: Sikoro was before them in showing respect, which was
+unnecessary. Men did not understand this humbleness of his and feared
+him. Sikoro loved their fear.
+
+The woman, Mironda, alone had no fear of him. She despised the man and
+did not try to hide it. She often refused to see him. It was only utter
+boredom that induced her to admit him to her compound at all. The truth
+is he was a great gossip and was the link between the harem and the
+outer world. Sikoro knew everything, was an authority on everything, and
+the first to hear all news.
+
+Now this is what befell Mironda. I don't blame her; no one could. I
+consider her a victim of circumstances. The old, old story. A young and
+impulsive woman, an elderly, much married lord, a well-favoured young
+man. The long and the short of it is that Mironda was in the end
+divorced; but the manner of that divorce enrages me whenever I think of
+it.
+
+One morning she was sitting on a mat in the shade thrown by the
+overhanging thatch of her hut. She was singing in a low voice and
+threading beads picked with the point of her needle from a wooden bowl
+held by a small girl slave.
+
+  The father of Mbututu
+  Was killed on the sand bank
+  Wei ye-i, wei i-ye,
+  Wei ye-i, wei i-ye,
+  The father of Mbututu
+  Was killed on the sand bank
+  Wei ye-i, etc.
+
+The monotonous chant in a minor key was interrupted by someone
+scratching on the reed fence.
+
+"Go," said Mironda to the child, "see who it is."
+
+The child put down the bowl of beads and ran to the fold in the fence
+which formed the gate. She looked out. A glance was sufficient. She ran
+back past her mistress and into a far hut, muttering as she went
+"Ma--we! Ma--we! It is Sikoro!"
+
+Mironda moved uneasily on her mat, then fell to fumbling nervously with
+the brightly-dyed bark patterns which ornamented it.
+
+Sikoro slouched into the compound, removing his fur cap as he came. Just
+inside he knelt down and sat on his heels, placing his cap on the ground
+beside him. He arranged his voluminous skirts carefully round him and
+then clapped his hands very respectfully.
+
+Mironda did not look at him. After a short interval Sikoro broke the
+silence.
+
+"Good day to you, Morena."
+
+"Yes, good day."
+
+"And has the Chief's wife slept well?"
+
+"She has."
+
+"And the slaves of her house, have they slept well?"
+
+"They have."
+
+"And is the Chief's wife pleased with the new shawl chosen by Sikoro as
+a gift from the Chief to his wife?"
+
+"It is all right."
+
+Sikoro relapsed into silence and Mironda did not speak. Presently the
+man got up and, in a crouching attitude, shuffled nearer and sat down as
+close as possible to the edge of the woman's mat without actually
+touching it. To touch the mat of the Chief's wife would have been an
+offence, to come so near to it was studied insolence.
+
+Mironda looked up angrily, met the bloodshot eye of Sikoro and opened
+her mouth as if to speak. Instead of doing so, however, she looked away
+and examined the work upon which she had been engaged when the man
+arrived.
+
+Sikoro grinned and, detaching from his belt a small gourd, emptied some
+snuff into the palm of his hand.
+
+This was a deliberate insult to the Chief's wife and conclusive evidence
+to her, if indeed she needed it, that she might now expect the worst.
+
+Sikoro blew his nose unpleasantly and loudly sniffed up the snuff from
+the palm of his hand. Then, clearing his throat, he said: "Someone has
+stolen one of the Chief's heifers."
+
+"Eh."
+
+"A yellow one which the Chief might well have sold to a Jew."
+
+"So."
+
+"It is no great loss to the Chief, as the heifer is barren."
+
+Mironda's eyes blazed with fury; she had no child.
+
+"The thief has been caught."
+
+"What will be done with him?"
+
+Ah! he had aroused her interest at last. Sikoro smiled pleasantly as he
+said: "He will, of course, be strangled."
+
+"Will not the Missionaries prevent it?"
+
+"The Missionaries? They do not know and may not know for many days, and
+anyhow, what could they do?"
+
+"The white man's Government will prevent the killing of people."
+
+"No doubt the white man's Government will do many foolish things, but
+the Magistrate has not yet come."
+
+"He is coming soon."
+
+"But they strangle Miyobo to-day, now."
+
+No name had been mentioned before: indeed it was not necessary even now;
+Mironda had known Sikoro's errand from the manner of entry into her
+compound.
+
+The abominable man leant forward and repeated: "Now, now, now," then put
+his hand to his ear. The woman listened, too, and heard distinctly the
+shriek and gurgle of a dying man: then silence save for the pattering of
+slaves' feet and their shrill inquiries and conjectures. Miyobo had been
+strangled just outside the compound in which the woman sat.
+
+Mironda looked at Sikoro with wide eyes of fear. He, of course, enjoyed
+the situation. Did he not hate this woman for her overbearing pride? Had
+not she and Miyobo fooled him more than once, and had it not been the
+merest chance which had delivered them into his hand?
+
+His one eye contracted with merriment, a cruel smile lifted his lip and
+disclosed a row of sharply-filed teeth--the tribal mark of a subject
+race; he was a freed slave.
+
+Pointing to the bangles on the woman's arm, Sikoro asked: "What are you
+doing with the Chief's ivory?"
+
+One by one Mironda took her bangles off and placed them on the mat
+before her.
+
+"Is not that the Chief's new shawl?"
+
+The wretched woman took the garment from her shoulders and laid it on
+the mat beside the bangles.
+
+"And why," said Sikoro, "do you sit on the Chief's mat?"
+
+Mironda slowly rose to her feet.
+
+"And is not this the Chief's hut?"
+
+This was the last word, the full sentence of divorce; she, now a common
+woman, had no right to stand where she stood. She looked hastily round
+the compound and then walked silently to the gate and so out.
+
+The man gathered up the ivory bangles and tied them in the shawl. He
+rolled up the mat upon which Mironda had been sitting and tucked it
+under his arm. Then, spitting contemptuously on the ground, he followed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some years later I saw Mironda, clothed in the rags of a slave woman,
+begging food at the Mission station.
+
+When the wife of the Chief is divorced, her fall is gradual. For a space
+she becomes the wife of a head man, who presently passes her on to
+someone lower in the social scale, and so from hand to hand she passes
+until she becomes the consort of a slave.
+
+In Mironda's case she first became the wife of Sikoro; surely a no more
+cruel punishment could have been devised for her.
+
+
+
+
+MAN AND BEAST.
+
+
+
+
+PROTECTIVE COLOURING.
+
+
+Mobita had views on protective colouring. Who is Mobita? Oh, an elephant
+hunter, a black man; a very good fellow--as black men go. Mobita used to
+say that elephants, and big and small game generally, could not see
+black and white. Black they could and white they could, but not a
+judicious combination of the two. His usual hunting kit was a black hat
+with a white feather in it, a black waistcoat over a white shirt, a
+black and white striped loin cloth. His thin arms and legs were dull
+ebony. There you have Mobita.
+
+Mobita's theory worked very well for a time, but as he had missed an
+essential he paid the penalty in the end. A zebra is black and
+white--more or less--and in the bush is practically invisible so long as
+it stands still. That, then, is the essential adjunct to protective
+colouring--you must keep still.
+
+This is what happened to Mobita.
+
+Just before the war I was hunting on the edge of the Great Swamp. Early
+one afternoon, when the day was at its hottest, I heard a shot fired.
+Later, I met a freshly-wounded tusker and dropped him. I went up to have
+a look at him, and found dry blood on his ground tusk and a hole behind
+his near shoulder; someone had just missed his heart. My shot took him
+in the ear.
+
+I left some of my men to cut out his tusks, and, out of curiosity, went
+back along his spoor. I had not far to go. Sitting round a pile of green
+branches I found a dozen of Mobita's people, looking very glum.
+
+They told me their yarn, which I did not believe until I had had a look
+round for myself. The spoor told me their story was true enough.
+
+It appears that Mobita had followed the bull since early morning. He got
+in a moderate shot; the bull saw him and gave chase. The ground was
+unbroken, with no large ant-hills or big trees to dodge behind. Here and
+there they went, this way and that, but the tusker kept his eye on
+Mobita--on his protective colouring, I should think. Then somehow Mobita
+tripped and fell, and the game was up. The elephant stamped on him,
+knelt on him, put his tusk through him. Then--and here is the strange
+part of it all--went from tree to tree picking green branches and piling
+them up on what was left of Mobita.
+
+Then he moved off and shortly met me.
+
+Did I bury Mobita? Why, no. People came around presently--as natives
+will when meat is about--and I made them pile stones on him; quite a
+hill they made. I paid them for their trouble with elephant meat, and
+handed the tusks to Mobita's men, as the custom is.
+
+Protective colouring is all right, no doubt--if you keep still.
+
+
+
+
+DARWIN--A BIRD.
+
+
+When the railway construction reached to within reasonable distance of
+my camp, I realised how tired I was of living in a mud hut, and acquired
+sufficient material from the contractor for a small house. I also asked
+him to spare one of his carpenters to erect it for me.
+
+The man sent to me was a German named Fritz Kunst. He was not only a
+carpenter, but a mason, bricklayer, plumber, and painter as well. He was
+an excellent workman, a member of no union, and intent only on finishing
+his job quickly and well. I hasten to explain that this was many years
+before the war.
+
+In build he was very short, almost deformed. His head was abnormally
+large; so, too, were his hands and feet, especially his feet. He looked
+upon his feet as his salvation. He was flat-footed, and on that account
+had never served in the German army. He referred to his feet as, "My
+goot luck, isn't it?"
+
+I had but one fault to find with him. He was rough with his native
+servant. The boy sometimes complained to me, and when I remonstrated
+with Kunst or threatened him with the law he would burst into a flood of
+tears and offer to pay cash for his lapse. One day the boy complained
+to me that Kunst had beaten him severely and without cause. He could,
+however, show no mark, but I sent for his master and demanded an
+explanation. Kunst was evidently very angry with the boy, for he shook
+his fist in his face and bellowed in his coarse, guttural voice: "Zo,
+you make er tam vool of me, eh? I will your head break. You spoil my
+money. Gott tam you!"
+
+In broken English, but with considerable fluency and force, Kunst told
+me the source of his indignation. It appeared that from time to time he
+commissioned his boy to make small purchases for him--eggs, fowls, milk,
+fish, and the like. On the previous evening the boy produced a very
+large egg for which he said he had paid sixpence. As eggs were then
+never more than sixpence a dozen in that country, Kunst charged him with
+cheating. The boy explained that the egg was a very large one. It was
+large--huge, in fact--for a hen's egg, so Kunst did not press the
+charge, but went to bed, telling the boy to boil it for breakfast next
+morning.
+
+On the breakfast-table the egg looked larger than ever. It couldn't sit
+in the tin egg-cup, so lay on the table beside it.
+
+Now Kunst was a greedy man and attacked the egg in the best of good
+spirits. He tried to crack it in the usual way with a spoon, but without
+success. He banged it on the table. The shell did crack then, but, to
+Kunst's indignation, the egg proved to be hard set. Whether he thought
+parts of it might be good I cannot say, but the German broke open the
+egg and examined it more closely. He then became very angry indeed, for
+what he found satisfied him that the egg was not a hen's egg at all. The
+creature upon which he gazed was three-parts beak and most of the rest
+was made up of feet. Kunst had never seen anything like it. In a rage of
+disappointment he beat the boy. He had so looked forward to eating that
+very large egg which the boy assured him was a hen's egg. Had not his
+trusted servant declared that the egg had cost sixpence?
+
+I soothed Kunst's ruffled feelings, and persuaded him to go to his work
+and forgive the boy.
+
+When I had settled the little differences between the German and the
+native, I cross-questioned the latter. It transpired that the giant egg
+was that of a marabout stork which had nested in a tree a few miles
+away. As one egg still remained in the nest, I told the boy to let a
+week or two go by, and if by then the egg had hatched out to bring the
+chick to me.
+
+In due course Darwin arrived. I did not call him Darwin for several
+weeks; the name occurred to me later. Darwin was the queerest of
+objects. He was a large ball of fluff based on two very long legs, and
+surmounted by a huge beak protruding from a bald head. He was wise from
+birth; it was when I had fully realised how very wise he was that I
+christened him Darwin.
+
+When he first came to me he made no proper use of his legs. He could not
+stand erect, but sat awkwardly with his bird equivalent to knees
+protruding behind and his large feet, with toes spread out, in front. He
+resembled a downy globe on rails. He crawled about my bungalow almost
+from the first day I had him. This he managed by sliding first his right
+hand rail along the floor and then his left, clapping his huge beak
+after each movement. I suppose I subconsciously accepted this beak
+clapping as the crooning of a baby bird, for I soon found myself
+indulging in baby talk with him.
+
+His appetite was amazing; moreover, he was omnivorous.
+
+When it was neither his meal time nor mine, he would sit on the floor in
+front of me blinking up at me with wisdom in his eyes. He winked. There
+is no doubt about it. It was as if he had just remarked: "What you and I
+don't know isn't worth knowing." I soon dropped the baby talk with
+Darwin, and discussed with him Affairs of State.
+
+He grew rapidly. One day I detected a feather. By degrees feathers
+replaced the down, but the most important sign of Darwin's growing up
+was when he took his first step. One morning without warning he heaved
+himself up, and, by using his beak as a third leg, actually stood on his
+feet. For the space of a full minute he remained in this position, then,
+suddenly lifting his head, he was erect. For one moment only; then,
+overbalancing backwards, he fell with a crash full length on the floor.
+He appeared stunned at first. I picked him up and placed him on his
+rails again, and there he sat, thinking the matter over. Presently he
+repeated the manoeuvre, but with no better success, falling this time on
+his "front" as a child would say. Again I gathered him up, and
+apparently, after mature consideration, he decided that his time for
+walking had not yet come, for he made no more attempts that day.
+
+About a week later, as if the idea had struck him for the first time, he
+got up quite suddenly, and coolly walked out of the back door into the
+yard; he stood there sunning himself, and chattering to and at everybody
+and everything in sight.
+
+Darwin never looked back. He quickly developed a curiosity as insatiable
+as his appetite. He became playful, too. He made friends with the dogs,
+and romped with them. He noticed that the doctor paid a daily visit to
+the compound, and hid behind the fence in wait for him. As the doctor
+sped past on his bicycle, Darwin would shoot out his heavy beak at him.
+So sure a marksman did the bird become--he always narrowly missed the
+saddle, but hit the doctor--that the good man complained, and approached
+the compound by the long way round.
+
+The day arrived when certain puppies had to lose their tails. Darwin
+took a proper interest in the operation, and gobbled up each tail as it
+fell. He appeared to like dogs' tails, and went in search of more. He
+found a nice long one which he tried to swallow, but it happened to be
+still attached to an elderly greyhound. Poor Darwin met with his first
+serious rebuff in life; he came to me for sympathy with a large puncture
+in his beak. The mark of the dog's displeasure was permanent.
+
+When natives came, as they did in hundreds, to sell the produce of their
+gardens, woods, and streams, Darwin inspected their wares. With a twist
+of his beak he would filch a pinch of meal from a bowl to see, so the
+natives declared, whether it was of uniform whiteness throughout. Eggs
+had to be protected with outstretched arms, so, too, had baskets of
+little fishes, for he was very partial to them both, and only a very
+full sample would satisfy him. The natives declared him possessed.
+Judging by the way he first abused and then assaulted any one of them
+bold enough to resist his inspection, I think they were right.
+
+I have already mentioned his curiosity. He permitted this defect in his
+character to carry him too far when he became a common thief. A
+traveller stayed with me for a few days. In spite of warning, he left
+the door of his hut open when he came across to the mess hut for
+breakfast. Darwin entered to inspect. It is surmised that he swallowed
+my guest's shaving brush and tooth brush, for they have never been
+found. It is only surmise, but there was circumstantial evidence to
+support the charge in the form of the stick of shaving soap which was
+found on the floor with marks on it which might have been made by the
+beak of a large bird.
+
+Again, the contents of two boxes of cigars were found scattered far and
+wide; each cigar had been nipped in half. Darwin was questioned; he
+looked wise but said nothing. A native witness swore he had seen the
+accused walking in the yard with the white man's pipe in his mouth. This
+was a wicked slander, for the white man had that pipe in his pocket, and
+it was his only one.
+
+The case was not proven, but Darwin left the court without a shred of
+character.
+
+I have referred to his appetite. One day the cook missed a piece of
+lamb's neck, weighing probably half a dozen pounds. He couldn't blame
+the cat, because there wasn't one, so he pointed the finger of
+accusation at Darwin. The evil bird was sent for. I felt he was guilty,
+and, although he winked at me for sympathy, I had to say so. Besides, he
+had not been sufficiently careful to hide the loot; even a professional
+detective could have recognised the meat by the very large, irregular
+bulge in the bird's pouch. In places the mutton bones threatened to
+pierce the thin disguise.
+
+Darwin certainly had his uses. No nasty-smelling scrap could lie
+undetected for long. His scent was keen and his eye sharp. I never found
+a snake in the house after Darwin grew up, nor were there many rats
+about the place.
+
+Once a huge swarm of locusts fell upon us, and all hands turned out to
+destroy them. Darwin joined in the fray, and soon we retired and left
+him to finish the job, as he disposed of thousands to our joint
+hundreds. His method was simplicity itself. He dashed here, there, and
+everywhere with his huge beak wide open. Only now and then, and for a
+moment, did he close it to gulp down what had fallen in.
+
+The doctor, who lived a mile away, did not like Darwin; partly because
+of his stupid trick of pecking at him as he cycled by, but chiefly
+because he seemed to know what was going on in the hospital. If an
+operation was being performed, Darwin could be heard tramping about
+impatiently on the corrugated iron roof of the building. As the marabout
+stork mainly lives on carrion scraps, there was, the doctor considered,
+questionable taste in Darwin's visits.
+
+Alas! Darwin met with a violent death in his early prime.
+
+Like all others of his kind, he grew those beautiful downy feathers so
+highly prized by women who dress well. There was a demand throughout the
+country for the feathers, and many of these delightful and useful birds
+died at the hands of the natives in consequence.
+
+An operation was going on at the hospital, and Darwin was hurrying
+thither on foot, as I had recently cut the feathers of one of his wings.
+In the road he met a strange native, who despatched him with his
+assegai, stripped him of his feathers, and walked on.
+
+The spoiler soon came up with two of my servants who, on hearing of the
+man's good luck, as he put it, took him back to the scene of the
+outrage.
+
+Yes, it was "Da-wi-ni"; was not that the hole in his beak which the
+angry greyhound made?
+
+My servants decided that Darwin had been most foully murdered, and acted
+according to their lights.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was well that the doctor knew his job. After six anxious weeks the
+native was so far recovered from the beating as to be pronounced out of
+danger.
+
+
+
+
+THE LION'S SKIN.
+
+
+In the year 1898 Sergeant Johnson, the one with the bright red beard,
+was sent up country to establish and to remain in charge of the new
+out-station of Likonga. Likonga, a little-known spot in Central Africa,
+was, and still is, miles away from civilisation. Sergeant Johnson's
+command was cut to small dimensions by malaria at headquarters. He had
+but a corporal and two men. Likonga in those days consisted of nothing
+but a name on the map, and nothing at all in the way of buildings or
+anything else to show you when you had got there. The Commandant of
+Police had dotted vaguely the imperfect sketch map with his pencil, and
+had instructed Sergeant Johnson to go there. The Sergeant had glanced at
+the map as it lay on the office table, and had said, "Yes, sir."
+
+"You will take with you Corporal Merton and Privates Hay and Hare. I
+cannot spare more."
+
+Again the Sergeant said, "Yes, sir."
+
+"You will take rations for ninety days, the small buck waggon, and the
+black span of oxen."
+
+For the third time Sergeant Johnson said, "Yes, sir."
+
+Now, this man with the bright red beard had been a soldier elsewhere
+before he became a policeman in the middle of Africa. His old training
+had not encouraged questions, so he never asked any now. When,
+therefore, the Commandant of Police glanced up from the map, the
+Sergeant saluted, turned about, and left the office.
+
+He wasted no time. He took Corporal Merton, Privates Hay and Hare, the
+small waggon, ninety days' rations, a span of fourteen black oxen, the
+Zulu Jacob to drive, and the Kaffir boy "Nine-thirty" to lead.
+
+Just before sundown he pulled out of camp. It is hardly necessary,
+perhaps, to say that the leader of a waggon is the native who walks in
+front of the oxen, but it is necessary to explain that a leader of oxen
+in Africa answers to any name flung at him. This particular one was
+called "Nine-thirty" because, without any apparent effort, he stood and
+walked with his feet splayed at what should have been an impossible
+angle to his legs. If his right big toe pointed east, his left one
+pointed west, whilst he himself faced north or south, as the case might
+be.
+
+For seven days the party travelled in a northeasterly direction,
+Sergeant Johnson spending most of the time on his back on the waggon,
+Corporal Merton tramping immediately behind, whilst Privates Hay and
+Hare followed at any distance ranging between a hundred yards and half a
+mile.
+
+The party was not a cheery one; it might have travelled for yet another
+day, or even more, had not the Sergeant dropped his looking glass off
+the tail end of the waggon. He was devoted to his big red beard. While
+lying on the waggon he spent his time fondling and trimming this beard,
+smearing vaseline on it and admiring it in his little lead-framed
+looking glass.
+
+When, therefore, he dropped his glass, he said: "Damn," and then, more
+loudly, "This is Likonga; outspan, Jacob!"
+
+The driver shouted "Ah, now!" to the oxen, and the outfit came to a
+halt.
+
+As a camping place, the spot so casually chosen was not a bad one. There
+was wood and there was water, good grazing for the cattle, and obviously
+some game about. Moreover, there were some granite boulders on the left,
+set round in the form of a rude circle. Under the Sergeant's direction
+all were soon roughly housed. The cattle had been made secure at night
+by a skilful reinforcement of the circle of boulders, here a thorn bush
+and there a few poles. Patrol tents, protected by a straggling fence,
+satisfied the Sergeant and his men. Jacob spent the day in the lee of
+his waggon and the night under it. "Nine-thirty" slept on the other side
+of the cattle kraal, under the propped-up roof of an abandoned native
+hut; during the day he herded the cattle. The making of this very
+primitive out-station occupied less than a couple of days, and then the
+question, "What the devil shall we do now?" fell upon the party like a
+blight.
+
+But, as is so often the case, the devil decided.
+
+All had turned in for the night. The Sergeant had taken a last look at
+his beard. Corporal Merton had read something of Kipling's. Private Hay,
+after a long-winded argument with Private Hare, in which neither seemed
+to gain advantage, had told his adversary to go to hell. Private Hare
+had found satisfaction in saying, "Ditto, brother." Jacob had retired
+under his waggon, and, like most natives, fell asleep immediately, with
+his head well covered by his blanket.
+
+The leader with the silly name, alone of all the party, remained awake
+in his solitude on the other side of the cattle kraal. His evening meal
+of maize porridge was bubbling in his small cooking pot, perched on a
+handful of embers. He was playing a minute native "piano," a trumpery,
+tinkling thing, made of half a gourd, a strip of hard wood, with a few
+tongues of metal affixed to it.
+
+The tinkle, tinkle, tink, tink; tinkle, tinkle, tink, tink, sounded very
+plaintive and lonely in Africa's wide expanse. The boy was singing,
+too--if his wail could be called singing.
+
+    The crocodile,
+    Floating near the bank,
+    Sleeps in the river.
+  Tinkle, tinkle, tink, tink.
+    The fish,
+    Floating on the water,
+    Sleeps in the river.
+  Tinkle, tinkle, tink, tink.
+    The hippopotamus,
+    Floating in mid-stream,
+    Sleeps in the river.
+  Tinkle, tinkle,...
+
+The music stopped. Africa was deadly still, save for the croaking of a
+frog.
+
+"Nine-thirty" sat motionless, looking straight before him, out beyond
+his little fire. Immediately opposite stood a large, black-maned lion.
+The pair faced each other, a yard or so apart. The only movement was the
+lion's tail, which switched from side to side. The huge beast looked
+steadily at "Nine-thirty," who, full of fear, stared back at the lion.
+
+Where life and death are concerned, things happen very suddenly. The
+lion took one step forward and seized "Nine-thirty" by the knee. The boy
+reached for his assegai and plunged it into the lion's ribs.
+
+The Sergeant heard the cry and a roar of pain in his sleep, and woke up
+to fumble with his beard. Corporal Merton, from an interrupted dream,
+cried out: "Halt! Who goes there?" Private Hay, if awake, said nothing,
+whilst his companion in arms muttered: "What's up?" Jacob answered from
+under his blanket: "It's a lion, master, and he has killed my leader."
+At any rate, it was certain something serious had happened. A lion,
+uncomfortably close, was making such a din that the leaves of the trees
+near by seemed to flutter, and "Nine-thirty" was moaning on the other
+side of the cattle kraal.
+
+"Stand to arms!" commanded the Sergeant.
+
+All tumbled out of their blankets, rifle in hand, shirttails flapping in
+the night wind. They were not cowards, neither were they fools. The four
+listened to the sound of a lion growling and retreating as he growled.
+The moaning came from one place, so it was evident that Nine-thirty was
+for the moment safe. Then, hastily lighting a lantern, the policemen
+picked their way round the cattle kraal to Nine-thirty's little fire.
+The Sergeant knew something of first aid. He lifted the mauled native
+carefully and carried him back to the waggon. The boy's knee was in a
+bad state--the joint was crushed. A "tot" of brandy, a thorough wash of
+the wound, a bandage, a blanket or two, and a bed of grass near the camp
+fire made Nine-thirty as comfortable as possible. After making up the
+fire, all turned in again.
+
+At daylight the Sergeant mustered his men, and thus addressed them:
+
+"We will now go and blot out this accursed lion. Load, and remember no
+one fires until I give the word. Put on your boots, don't bother about
+your bags."
+
+The four lined up.
+
+"March!"
+
+They hadn't far to go--barely a couple of hundred yards. The lion raised
+his head and growled. Nine-thirty's assegai, broken off short, still
+protruded from the beast's ribs.
+
+"Fire!" commanded the Sergeant. Four shots rang out as one, and the
+lion's head sank upon his paws. The men reloaded, and approached with
+caution, but the marauder was dead.
+
+The Sergeant instructed Jacob to skin the beast, and the four returned
+to camp for breakfast and to think out the problem which had arisen out
+of the killing of this lion.
+
+All things being equal in sport, and rank apart, and as man to man, to
+whom belonged the skin? Someone had missed, because there were only
+three holes in the skin. Someone had made a rotten bad shot, because
+there was a bullet hole in the lion's rump. Someone had killed the beast
+outright, because a bullet had passed through the lion's brain. Someone
+had done for him, because another shot had taken him behind the
+shoulder.
+
+All claimed the head shot.
+
+Well, Jacob was out of it anyway. So, too, was poor Nine-thirty. Neither
+had fired a shot.
+
+When I arrived I found Nine-thirty well on the way to recovery, but the
+policemen still "man to man." A deputation presented me with the skull
+and asked me to decide about the skin. I declared Nine-thirty the owner
+by all the rules of hunting; he had drawn first blood, and had stopped
+the lion.
+
+I suggested, however, that as Nine-thirty did not want the skin, the
+four who fired at the lion should have a five shilling sweepstake for
+it, Nine-thirty to have the pound and the winner the skin.
+
+Sergeant Johnson drew the prize.
+
+But Jacob, being a Zulu, collected the lion's fat, melted it into tins,
+bottles, and small gourds, and sold it for many pounds to his friends
+when he went home a year later. All Zulus know that lion's fat smeared
+on the head, face, or beard makes a man brave in battle.
+
+
+
+
+THE REVEREND MR. BUMPUS.
+
+
+Some missionaries I like very much, they are good fellows; others I am
+not so sure about; others, again, I admit I cordially dislike. I place
+the Rev. Mr. Bumpus in the third category. I met him once going down the
+road from the Zambesi as I was going up. He, lucky beggar, was
+travelling to rail-head in his ox-waggon, going on leave. I was trekking
+north in my waggon, having just exhausted my home leave. All his fun was
+to come; mine was over for a period. I felt, when I met him, like a boy
+who, having eaten his own plum cake, must now watch another boy devour
+his.
+
+The Rev. Bumpus had a wife. Poor soul, she was cooped up with him in the
+waggon, and had been for three weeks. They had come about two hundred
+miles from their mission station in that time. Think of it, cooped up
+for three solid weeks with the Rev. Mr. Bumpus. How I pitied her!
+
+What a change there was in the little woman. Three years earlier, I
+remember, she had gone north with Bumpus, newly married, and with a look
+in her eyes of a brave soldier of the faith, rosy cheeked, well favoured
+and plump. And now! What a battle she must have had! And I'm sure she
+didn't find a good ally in the man of her choice. She was thin and
+drawn, had a sad, discouraged eye, and looked more than twice her age.
+
+Almost the first question she asked was: "Oh, have you any tobacco? Any
+you can spare, I mean?" I produced my pouch, and said I had plenty in my
+waggon coming on behind.
+
+The Rev. Bumpus slipped off the waggon, took a handful, crammed his
+pipe, and put the remainder in his alpaca coat pocket. Then he lit up,
+took a puff or two, and said--nothing! It was she who thanked me,
+adding:
+
+"Fred has been impossible for the last five days; he's had no tobacco. I
+didn't pack enough. Perhaps his temper will be better now." And this
+poor little lady cast a beseeching look at her lord and master.
+
+As for the reverend gentleman, he climbed back into the waggon, sat down
+with a grunt of contentment, and puffed vigorously at his pipe.
+
+"I'm so glad we've met you," continued the woman. "We've been followed
+for days by some lions. Last night they took my riding donkey."
+
+"They'll have you next," interjected her gallant spouse with a grin.
+"They like donkey-meat."
+
+The fellow was a brute. His wife was scared, and even if he couldn't
+encourage her he needn't have tried to frighten her more. But there he
+sat, grinning down from his perch in the waggon, and showing his big,
+yellow teeth. Yes, certainly, I disliked the Rev. Mr. Bumpus. I did my
+best to reassure the lady, advised the man to put out lighted lanterns
+at night to keep off the lions, and said good-bye.
+
+I did a short trek that evening, and outspanned early. I couldn't help
+thinking of the callous man and the frightened woman. I knew that if
+the lions came round Bumpus was no man to cope with them, or, for that
+matter, to take sensible precautions. For myself, I had some poles out,
+tied lighted lanterns to them, and set them up some distance ahead,
+behind, and on either side of my waggon. In addition, I had a good fire
+lit beyond the leading oxen and an extra large one in front of my patrol
+tent by the side of the waggon.
+
+I had been sitting by the fire for a little while after dinner, smoking,
+when I was startled by a rifle shot, and then another. I judged by the
+direction that they must have been fired by the Rev. Bumpus or his
+driver, and, by the sound, that we were not camped very far apart. I
+took a couple of boys, my rifle, and a lantern, and hurried along the
+road to see what had happened. The missionary's waggon was further away
+than I expected. When I got there the Rev. Bumpus was on the roof of the
+waggon, on the top of the tent, in his nightshirt. I hadn't seen a
+nightshirt on a man for years. His wife was inside the waggon. The
+driver--it was he who had fired the shots--was, with his leader,
+crouching under the waggon. The oxen were very restless.
+
+It was quite dark, and there would be no moon all night. The
+missionary's fire had died down, and I couldn't see a yard beyond the
+ring of light shed by the lantern in my hand. My first concern,
+therefore, was to shake the unburnt logs together and get the fire going
+again. Then, with my lantern in one hand and my rifle in the other, I
+walked along the line of oxen, talking to them as I went, with the
+object of settling them down. I counted the cattle as I passed and found
+the span intact.
+
+Then, under my direction, my boys collected as much wood as we could
+find handy, and lighted another fire, ahead of the oxen. Then I went
+back to the waggon to question the missionary.
+
+Had he seen a lion?
+
+"Yes, a large one."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Close to the leading oxen."
+
+Had she seen any?
+
+"No, nothing," said his wife.
+
+Had the driver seen the lion?
+
+"Ja, baas, two."
+
+At that moment I nearly jumped out of my skin. The driver, from under
+the waggon, fired again; his bullet must have missed my legs by inches
+only. I had to use un-Sunday School language before I could make the
+Rev. Bumpus stop his din from the top of the waggon; he was terrified,
+and showed it without shame or reserve. I took the rifle from the
+driver. Lions at night are bad enough, but the additional risk of a
+scared native armed with a Martini is a little too much.
+
+"What the devil did you let fly for?"
+
+"At the lion, baas."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Over there, baas."
+
+"Over there," indeed, a few yards from the waggon, it was as black as
+ink, but I argued, natives have good eyesight, and a lion's eyes have a
+way of reflecting the light of a distant fire. He might have seen a
+lion.
+
+Well, there was nothing for it, more fires must be built.
+
+The missionary had only one lantern, and that I lighted. It was too dark
+to find a pole, so I dug a hole in the sandy soil, planted the waggon
+whip in it, and slung the lantern to the whip-stick.
+
+Then began a night of toil and anxiety; I have no wish to live through
+such a night again. My boys were frightened now. Frightened does not
+describe the condition of the Rev. Mr. Bumpus. There he was, a weird
+figure, perched on the top of the waggon-tent, ghostly in his white
+nightshirt, chattering with alarm. Mrs. Bumpus sat, fully dressed,
+inside the waggon, quite still and silent. The missionary's driver,
+leader, and my boys stood huddled round the largest fire at the tail end
+of the waggon, their eyes looking unusually large and white as they
+peered into the thick darkness.
+
+"There he is, baas!"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"There!"
+
+"Where's there, you fool?"
+
+"Listen!"
+
+I listened, and sure enough I heard the shush, shush of something moving
+in the dead leaves and dry grass a little distance away. The oxen
+nearest the waggon showed signs of nervousness. I would have given much
+for a dog that night. The movement stopped. We all listened. The Rev.
+Bumpus began to mumble something from his perch aloft.
+
+"For goodness sake shut up! How can I hear anything while you're making
+all that noise!"
+
+He stopped.
+
+"There he is, baas!"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"There!"
+
+I listened, but could hear nothing. I listened for quite a long time. We
+all listened--we could hear nothing. The nearest ox lay down with a
+grunt, which meant that he, at any rate, was not much alarmed.
+
+The Rev. Bumpus asked whether I thought he could come down, as on the
+top of the waggon-tent it was very cold. I was just about to say he
+could when again that shush, shush! I heard it myself distinctly this
+time. At once the chorus again of "There he is," in as many languages as
+there were natives huddled round me.
+
+I decided that we must do something, make a sortie and get more wood;
+the fires had burnt low.
+
+Presently we had four fires blazing away, the one in front of the
+leading oxen, one on either side of the waggon, and one at the tail-end
+of it. My boys' courage rose as the circle of light grew. They dashed
+here and there--strictly within the circle of light formed by the
+fires--collecting dry wood. After a while you could have roasted the
+proverbial ox at any one of the fires.
+
+While we were busy the Rev. Bumpus had crept down from his place of
+vantage and had gone to bed. His wife, the better man of the two, made
+us some strong coffee. The missionary's driver and leader joined in the
+scramble for wood.
+
+The lion had evidently drawn off, so we had some coffee and stood
+warming ourselves by the fire.
+
+"There he is, baas!"
+
+I grabbed my rifle. "Where?"
+
+"There, I can hear him now."
+
+"Listen! Silence, all of you!"
+
+Shush, shush; shush, shush.
+
+From over there! No, from there! Where the devil is he?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And this sort of thing went on the whole night through. Quiet for a
+while. Fires die down. Shush, shush; shush, shush. Hurried collection of
+wood. Fires blaze up. Silence. The shush, shush just beyond the limit
+of light. "There, he is, baas!" "Where?" "There!" and so on.
+
+Then dawn. How slowly it came! Intense desire to murder that lion or
+lions. A little lighter now.
+
+I set out, with the natives following, to look for the spoor.
+
+Shush, shush; I heard it quite plainly. Good heavens! where is that
+lion? Broad daylight now. Is the thing a ghost?
+
+No. There it is--a scrubby, little, scaly anteater! Still grubbing in
+the fallen leaves. Shush, shush; shush, shush.
+
+We stood looking at it, tired-eyed and weary.
+
+"Why don't you kill the wretched rat?"
+
+It was the Rev. Mr. Bumpus who spoke.
+
+Talking of rats, I could have killed that man there and then.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When I got back to my own waggon I found lion spoor on the sandy road.
+It was not difficult to read from their tracks--there were three
+lions--that they had followed the missionary's waggon until they came to
+a turn in the road and saw my lanterns. From that point the spoor led
+down to the river bed, across it, and into the thick bush on the other
+side. They hadn't come near the waggons.
+
+
+
+
+THE SALVATION ARMY CAPTAIN.
+
+
+To-day you may book your passage with Cook's, in Ludgate Circus, to the
+Victoria Falls and back, and travel in comfort all the way. In 1897 it
+was different. There was no road to the Victoria Falls then, let alone a
+railway. I won't bother you with an account of our journey out by waggon
+as far as Panda-Ma-Tenga, or of how we rode across country from the edge
+of the Kalahari Desert to the Falls, guided by the column of spray
+arising from them, or, where the land dipped, by a sense of direction.
+
+At length we got there, or, more correctly, within a hundred yards of
+the tumbling waters. Their roar was deafening. It was a wonderful sound
+and a more wonderful sight. Imagine the hum of London traffic increased
+ten thousand fold. Imagine a forest of palm, fern, black-trunked trees,
+all within a hothouse of immense proportions, and a tepid, tropical rain
+soaking you to the skin. We cut through the distance which separated us
+from the lip of the Falls. Thick, tough creeper and undergrowth,
+maidenhair fern waist high; it seemed a sin to trample it underfoot.
+From time to time up to the thigh in watery mud when, unluckily, one
+stepped in the pit-like spoor of a hippopotamus which had passed in the
+night. Monkeys chattering from overhead. I think I caught sight of a
+buffalo.
+
+What a difference to-day! You might see a monkey in the trees now and
+then, but a fire has since passed through that jungle at the end of a
+dry season, and a century will not repair the damage. Moreover, there
+are gravel paths leading from the new hotel to every "view" now, but we,
+who saw the Victoria Falls twenty-four years ago, have something to
+remember and to brag about.
+
+We spent half a day looking and looking and looking. We were drenched by
+the spray, dried by the sun, deafened by the roar of the waters, and
+struck dumb by the beauty of it all.
+
+At about one o'clock we felt hungry, and went in search of our
+pack-horses. We had off-saddled outside the thicket and turned our
+beasts loose. We found our saddles easily enough, and the horses, too,
+for that matter; the grass was so luscious and plentiful that no horse
+would desire to stray far after several weeks in the dry Kalahari. We
+had lunch and a little rest, and then set out again to do more
+exploring. We hadn't gone far before we came upon the track of a waggon.
+Robinson Crusoe, when he found the footprint of the man Friday, could
+not have been more amazed than we.
+
+So far as we knew, no other expedition had come to the Falls ahead of
+us. Who, then, was the intruder?
+
+We followed the track, and presently, in a small clearing, we saw a
+waggon. Whoever he was, this traveller deserved full credit for what he
+had done. We had ridden to the Falls, and were proud of it, but here was
+a man who had got a waggon through. Stout fellow. And there, seated on a
+skin near his oxen, was the man. He had a matted beard, and didn't look
+too clean. Under one arm he hugged a huge calabash, from which he was
+eating honey with a stick. The honey was old and granulated. There were
+many flies in it, too, evidence that the neck of the calabash had been
+left uncovered at times. He didn't move when he saw us, but, holding out
+his stick, said: "Have some."
+
+We told him we had just fed, but thanked him all the same.
+
+"Sit down," said he, "sit on this skin," but he made no room for us. "I
+shot it yesterday at the Falls. This is the cub; the lioness went off."
+
+"How long have you been here?"
+
+"A couple of days."
+
+"How did you get through?"
+
+"Cut my way."
+
+"Lose any cattle in the thirst country?"
+
+"Didn't come that way; took a bee line from Bulawayo."
+
+This was a good performance indeed. All the old hands had said it
+couldn't be done.
+
+"What did you come for?"
+
+"What did you?"
+
+The man who asked the question first was travelling north to take over
+the administration of a tract of country as big as France. He explained
+his business.
+
+"Oh, so you're the magistrate, are you?"
+
+"Yes, that's about it. And you?"
+
+"I'm a captain in the Salvation Army down south, but I've brought a
+fellow up to prospect for mineral on the other side of the Zambesi. He
+crossed yesterday, and moved up country on foot this morning."
+
+I looked at this queer fellow with interest. His cap of calling lay on
+the ground beside him. Throughout the conversation he went on eating
+the honey. The Zambesi in those days was about the last place I should
+have expected to find a Salvation Army man. Looking round I caught sight
+of the familiar red jersey with the yellow letters. It was hanging on a
+bush, evidently drying. The captain had followed my gaze, and
+volunteered: "Had a bit of a washing day, first on this trip." From the
+look of him I concluded that his own turn was yet to come.
+
+"Well, tell us about the lion cub."
+
+I think he told the truth. I can't, of course, vouch for it, but he was
+sitting on the skin of a newly-killed cub. Before we left the Falls the
+vultures told us where to find the lioness. But this is his story:
+
+"I was walking along in the rain-forest with my rifle, looking for a pig
+or a palla or anything else eatable. I hadn't gone far when I nearly
+fell over this cub. He snarled at me, so I shot him. While he lay
+kicking on his back up comes his mother, so I reloaded my old Martini
+and gave her one for herself. Not being a first-class shot, I didn't do
+for her right off. She looked so angry and seemed to be coming on that I
+stepped back a pace or two, but keeping my eye on her. I tried to
+reload, but the empty cartridge case jammed. I broke off a stick from a
+handy bush and plugged it down the muzzle. I must have pushed too hard,
+for the stick broke off short."
+
+The captain stopped, got up, and fetched his rifle from the wagon. The
+stick was still in the barrel, evidently stuck fast in the cartridge,
+which, in its turn, was firmly fixed in the breech. We had a look at the
+rifle and then at the captain. He simply said: "Can either of you
+gentlemen fix this up for me?" We both said we could, and both asked:
+"But what about the lioness?"
+
+"Oh, the lioness. Why, there she was and there I was. She with a very
+ugly look, and growling, and I with my rifle put out of action. I felt
+it was time to do something, so I backed out of the bush singing a hymn
+in a loud voice."
+
+
+
+
+THE SPORT OF KINGS.
+
+
+The days have gone by when the Paramount Chiefs of the Barotse embarked
+annually upon a large-scale Lechwe drive. I believe the last big hunt
+took place in 1899. I, at any rate, have heard of no such happening
+since.
+
+It is just as well that these drives have come to an end. The African
+natives' idea of sport does not altogether tally with that of the white
+man; no sportsman likes to see animals slaughtered _en masse_.
+
+In those days the Lechwe antelope were strictly preserved for the
+pleasure of the Paramount Chief and his entourage. No native was
+permitted to disturb them in their natural haunts--the wide, open
+plains--and no man could kill one under pain of heavy penalty. The only
+exception to this rule was when a few head strayed into the vicinity of
+Lealni, the principal native village of the Barotse valley. Then the
+people were allowed to hunt them with dogs, but not to shoot them.
+
+The time chosen for these drives was after the rains had ceased to fall,
+but while the Zambesi had still more water to carry off than its banks
+could contain. The overflow was such that for a space the Barotse
+Valley became a vast lake, varying in depth from a few inches to a dozen
+feet.
+
+The same may be said with equal truth of the Luena river, an important
+tributary which, flowing from the East, made its junction with the
+Zambesi not far from Lealni. It was in the Luena basin that the drives
+took place.
+
+For two months before the time of hunting preparations for the drive
+began. Those long, heavy casting assegais, peculiar, I believe, to that
+part of Africa, were cleaned and sharpened. Narrow hunting canoes were
+collected, repaired and caulked. Four foot long pikes, sharpened at one
+end--which was hardened by burning--with a stout blade fixed in the
+other, were prepared in great numbers by the Batotela, a slave tribe
+cunning in the manufacture of iron. The blades of these pikes were short
+and flat and had the rounded point of an oyster-knife.
+
+I was invited by the Chief to be present at the drive in 1899, and I
+went.
+
+It took two days to reach the hunting ground. We travelled in
+shallow-draught, dug-out canoes. The first night we slept in elaborate
+grass shelters prepared for us beforehand.
+
+Next morning we resumed our journey at daylight. The Chief went first in
+a very small and narrow canoe. He was accompanied by one man only. They
+stood up in the canoe and punted with long, red-wood poles. All European
+clothes had been discarded by the natives. The Chief wore a woollen
+nightcap and a long, white shirt. Round his waist, but under his shirt,
+he had a highly-coloured, fringed tablecloth. His legs and feet were
+bare; so, too, were his arms to the elbow.
+
+My canoe started immediately after that of the Chief, but I did not
+retain that position long. It was more comfortable and, therefore, much
+heavier and slower. It carried a crew of seven.
+
+I suppose there must have been several thousand canoe loads of men. Two
+of the Chief's wives accompanied the party. All etiquette was abandoned.
+It became a race to follow the Chief, and although the waterway was
+several miles wide, collisions were frequent. Everyone was
+good-humoured, including one of the Chief's wives, whose canoe was
+capsized in the scurry. She was rescued amid much laughter and joking,
+in which she joined.
+
+_En route_ we passed many canoes loaded down to the gunwale with pikes.
+To these everyone gave a wide berth for fear of swamping them, for the
+pikes were necessary to the sport.
+
+In the afternoon of the second day we arrived at the spot selected, or,
+to be more precise, at a large camping ground within easy reach of it.
+
+Here we found even more elaborate grass huts ready for us. The Chief
+gave me a hut quite near to his own, a compliment which I did not
+appreciate at its intended value, because his band played and women sang
+throughout the night and robbed me of all sleep.
+
+The moment we arrived the Chief started off in his fast canoe to inspect
+the ground over which the Lechwe were to be driven next day. On his
+return he told me that the place had been well chosen and that the
+country was alive with Lechwe. He also said he had found a high ant-hill
+for me to stand upon and watch the drive.
+
+At daylight we set out again and reached my ant-hill in about an hour.
+The Chief took me to the top of it, pointed out the direction from
+which the antelope would come, and explained the plans for the day's
+sport.
+
+Looking through my field-glasses I saw two faint lines which, beginning
+more than a mile away in the open plain, converged, forming a funnel.
+The narrow end of the funnel terminated within a quarter of a mile from
+my ant-heap and in a line with it.
+
+The faint lines were really thin strips of dry palmleaf tape, which
+shone white in the bright sunlight. Every few yards a bight was taken
+round a bunch of tall, growing grass, which lent support to it and gave
+the impression that a one-strand fence or a barrier of some sort had
+been erected.
+
+The Chief referred to the two thin lines as walls, and assured me that
+the antelope, if properly driven, would not break through them.
+
+He then drew my attention to the apparent opening at the narrow end of
+the funnel, and asked me if I saw anything to prevent the Lechwe from
+escaping in that direction.
+
+I said I could see no bar. He replied that the Lechwe couldn't either,
+so, when pressed, would dash for the opening.
+
+"It is then that the sport will begin," he added.
+
+At this I looked more carefully and saw innumerable pikes had been
+driven into the ground with their iron points sloping forward towards
+the wire end of the funnel. The grass had been carefully rearranged.
+
+This, then, was the general plan: to drive the Lechwe into the funnel,
+down it, and on to the pikes at the narrow end.
+
+In reply to my questions, he said that many thousands of beaters, drawn
+from the slave tribes, had been wading through the swamps for two days
+collecting small herds of antelope and driving them slowly forward
+towards the mouth of the funnel.
+
+He drew a diagram with his stick on the side of the ant-heap to show how
+the beaters were disposed. He had adopted the well-known African method
+of envelopment--the crescent, with the horns well forward. The men who
+formed the horns had already reached the extremities of the funnel and
+were passing slowly down outside the line. The antelope, he told me,
+were contained in the arc of men coming forward.
+
+As yet I could see no antelope, nor could I see the men who formed the
+arc; they were still too far away.
+
+In the meantime, all the men who had come in small hunting canoes had
+taken their places outside, but close to, the two thin lines or walls.
+The moment they reached their stations they sat down and were lost to
+view in the long grass. The Chief explained that these men remained
+hidden until the Lechwe had passed them, when their business was to
+stand up and frighten the antelope forward with shouts and
+gesticulations. Should any Lechwe attempt to break through the sides of
+the funnel, the canoemen had to drive them back or assegai them.
+
+I now knew what to expect.
+
+The Chief presently left me, as he, too, had to take up his station. He
+begged me to keep myself hidden, as a premature exposure might easily
+spoil the entire drive.
+
+I lay flat on the ant-heap, looking through a small gap which I made in
+the tall grass which crowned it. I could see admirably, but could not be
+seen.
+
+It was a long time before I could discern any movement, even at the
+mouth of the funnel. I could hear the cries of the beaters as they
+approached, faintly at first, then a hum, then a roar.
+
+Presently I saw a single reed-buck ram pacing very slowly towards the
+concealed assegais. From time to time he stopped, stamped, sniffed and
+whistled, scenting danger. What became of him, I don't know. I lost
+sight of him.
+
+Looking through my glasses towards the entrance of the funnel again, I
+saw a sight which made me gasp. Although the most distant beaters had
+not yet appeared, a huge herd of Lechwe seemed literally to block the
+funnel and were trotting steadily down it. Half way they stopped. A fine
+ram turned and walked towards the left-hand wall. A man stood up and the
+antelope turned in the direction of the opposite wall; he went at a trot
+again and the immense herd followed him. When within twenty yards of the
+palmleaf tape, some dozen men stood up. All the antelope but the ram
+stopped. He, fine fellow that he was, made a bold bid for liberty. He
+dashed on, gathered himself together, and cleared the fence. One of the
+men in a canoe made a movement. It was too far off to see anything
+clearly, but as the Lechwe landed in a heap, I realised that he had been
+transfixed in mid-air by one of those heavy hunting assegais.
+
+The herd was not leaderless for long. Another ram forged ahead and
+trotted straight towards the narrow end of the funnel. Immediately every
+man sat down. It was clear that these hunters had been very well
+drilled.
+
+After moving rapidly for a hundred yards the Lechwe came to a halt. They
+were not as yet frightened, but highly suspicious.
+
+First, they turned at a walk towards the right-hand wall: a man stood
+up. They moved across to the left: the first man sat down and his
+opposite number stood up. The antelope broke into a trot. After heading
+to the right again for a little way, some hundreds broke back, and this,
+I think, is where the mistake was made, for, instead of leaving them to
+the beaters, who were approaching, driving many more herds of Lechwe
+before them, man after man stood up, shouting and waving their arms
+wildly.
+
+This had the effect of breaking up the whole of the antelope formation.
+They dashed here and there, thoroughly frightened; some broke through
+the wall, some cleared it, some dashed right back, and others came on
+towards the trap.
+
+I watched these last. There were several hundred of them. They came
+along at a very fast trot, the rams with their heads forward, noses up,
+and horns lying along their backs. A ram led. He struck one of the
+hidden pikes full with his chest and gave a mighty leap into the air,
+bleeding from a terrible wound in the brisket. He landed on the point of
+another pike and bounded up from it, his entrails dragging behind him.
+Much weakened, he leaped and leaped again until, completely
+disembowelled, he fell and lay still.
+
+There was no escape, the pikes were set so closely together: not a foot
+apart. They reached right across the gap in the funnel and to the depth
+of forty or fifty yards. I do not think a single one of this part of the
+large herd escaped. For the space of two minutes they were dashing past
+me and on to the hidden pikes. Every one was disembowelled before it
+fell dead--rams, ewes, and young alike. It was a disgusting sight.
+
+The natives were in a frenzy of excitement. No doubt their one idea was
+to drive the Lechwe to the trap and in that they succeeded; but they
+also drove a considerable part of the herd back upon the beaters, who
+were pressing other herds before them. The confusion was complete.
+Lechwe were dashing in all directions. Men were shouting and hurling
+their assegais. A deafening roar rose from the beaters, now close in.
+From time to time a score or so Lechwe dashed upon the pikes and added
+to the slaughter.
+
+I saw a Setutunga approach the pikes leisurely out of the confusion. He
+lifted his feet high at every step, a habit bred of life in the papyrus
+swamps. A native appeared from nowhere in particular and running him
+down killed him with a club.
+
+The drive was over.
+
+That evening when I met the Chief he was still furious. Someone had
+blundered and most of the Lechwe had escaped. Moreover, a man in a small
+canoe, hurling his heavy assegai at a Lechwe, had missed the beast and
+killed his brother. The Chief's own cook and several of his companions
+had been mauled out in the plain by a leopard. No, the drive had not
+been a success by any means.
+
+I wondered what the bag would have been if all had gone well with the
+Chief's plans. I had personally counted three hundred mutilated
+carcasses, but, feeling sick, had given up the tally and returned to
+camp.
+
+
+
+
+THE LIONS OF MAKULULUMI.
+
+
+How hot it was! September, 1897. I had not shot my first lion then, and
+many, many months were to pass before my luck came. Dame Fortune doesn't
+often condescend to glance my way. She smiled broadly once when, with
+three tickets, I won first, second, and third prize in a sweep on the
+Grand National; but then I have never drawn a prize in a sweep since.
+
+However, to return to September, 1897. Yes, by Jingo, it was hot. Not a
+breath of air; not a leaf on any tree. The rains were almost due, but
+not a shower had fallen. The only shade was in the shadow of the wagon.
+
+But it was not the blazing sun alone with which we had to contend. There
+thrives in the Kalahari Desert a pestiferous little winged insect called
+the Mopani bee, named after the hardwood tree in which it sets its hive.
+It would seem that this creature must have moisture, moisture of any
+kind--it isn't at all particular. And to think that I used to eat the
+stuff they call Mopani honey until, one day, I saw a bunch of them
+lapping up the moisture from a perspiring native runner. Ugh!
+
+These bees will congregate in dozens at the corners of your eyes, try
+to burrow into them and then collect the tears which the discomfort of
+their burrowing produces. They will crowd at the corners of your mouth;
+when you open it to blow the little plagues away, they rush in. Thank
+Heaven, the Mopani bee doesn't sting.
+
+We were struggling up to the Zambesi from Bulawayo. Our waggons were
+overloaded, for the Kalahari had taken heavy toll of our cattle and our
+spans were therefore many oxen short.
+
+We had reached and covered the first ten miles of the thirty-five which
+separate Makululumi from Kasibi. All those who knew the old Hunter's
+road will remember that stretch. The first ten miles are not bad going,
+but the next seven are the heaviest and loosest sand that oxen were ever
+asked to drag a waggon through.
+
+Between Makululumi and Kasibi there is no water, so the Major who
+commanded our little party thought it wise to send the oxen back from
+the ten-mile point to have the best part of a couple of days' rest at
+Makululumi before calling upon them to tackle the next stage of the
+journey.
+
+During the afternoon of the second day, by following my chief's example,
+I got the better of those bees. It is true I was slowly suffocating, but
+that was better than being tormented. I was lying on my back under the
+waggon, with my head covered with a blanket, perspiring immoderately. At
+least three more hours of this before the cattle returned and we resumed
+our journey.
+
+Presently I heard a conversation going on in Dutch between the Major and
+one of his boys. I looked out and saw one of the drivers who should have
+been with the cattle.
+
+"What are you doing here?" the Major asked.
+
+"Lions, baas."
+
+"Where? How many? When?"
+
+"Last night at Makululumi. Yes, many of them, baas."
+
+"Any cattle dead?"
+
+"Four, baas."
+
+"Tell me about it."
+
+The driver told his story. It appeared that the night before, as soon as
+it was dark, the boys had collected the cattle together and had driven
+them up to the camp fires. The oxen stood about for a little while and
+then settled down. Seeing this, the boys had turned in. When the moon
+set, the cattle moved off to the water holes again to drink and graze.
+
+Presently there was a great commotion at the water, oxen bellowing and
+stampeding. The boys got up and ran down with lights and a rifle. There
+they found three of the oxen lying dead within a hundred yards of each
+other, and a fourth, also dead, some little distance on. Each ox had his
+neck broken, but was otherwise unmarked. One of the boys thought he
+heard a lion in the grass, so fired his rifle off.
+
+Collecting the cattle again, they drove them up to the camp fires and
+kept a strict watch for the remainder of the night.
+
+At daylight they went back to the scene of the killing, and found that
+the lions had returned to the carcasses and made a heavy meal off two of
+them, the third was half eaten, the fourth untouched.
+
+This was indeed a disaster; we simply couldn't spare these four oxen.
+
+"Where are the cattle now?"
+
+"At the water holes with the other boys."
+
+"What did you tell the other boys to do?"
+
+"Let the cattle graze until sundown, then water them and bring them
+along."
+
+"Good. Now let's get busy."
+
+During this conversation I had got out from under the waggon and was now
+listening.
+
+"What are you going to do?" I asked.
+
+"Go back and blot out some of those lions."
+
+"May I come, too?"
+
+"Have you ever shot a lion?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Have you ever seen one?"
+
+"Not outside the Zoo, but I should like to."
+
+"Well, you may come on one condition."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Don't shoot unless and until I tell you to."
+
+I promised. Here was adventure indeed!
+
+The Major took an axe and a length of cord. He handed me a billy-can,
+two cups and some coffee. He selected a double .303 from his battery. I
+took the only rifle I possessed, namely, a single Martini Metford.
+
+Without more ado we set off to cover the ten miles back to Makululumi.
+There was no path, of course, merely the overgrown waggon track through
+the forest. The traffic on that road was insufficient to cope with the
+suckers which had sprung up round the stump of every tree felled in the
+cutting of this so-called road. The men who originally made the road had
+not troubled to stump it. The going was tiresome, and, lightly loaded as
+I was, I soon found the little I had to carry an increasing burden to
+me.
+
+About a mile from our destination we met the rest of our natives driving
+the cattle along. We stopped for a few minutes to question them. They
+had kept the vultures off the fourth ox, which was still intact, but
+the birds had eaten up the other three almost entirely. A bushman had
+arrived shortly before they came away, attracted by the circling
+vultures. They made him stand guard over the yet untouched ox in case we
+came back for the lion.
+
+All this was satisfactory, so, telling the boys to inspan the waggons
+when they reached them, and make as long a trek as they could through
+the heavy sand, we pushed on.
+
+We had no difficulty in finding the spot where the oxen had been killed.
+Hundreds of vultures, gorged with meat, sat on the upper branches of a
+clump of trees. A little further on an unusually tall bushman stood up
+as we approached.
+
+The Major examined the lie of the land with an experienced eye, and
+quickly made his plans.
+
+The Makululumi water holes are really a series of pools strung out along
+the otherwise dry bed of a small river. Of three of the slaughtered oxen
+little remained but the bones and hide; they had been killed in the bed
+of the river. The fourth lay on the far bank, where the river made a
+very sharp hairpin bend and narrowed to not more than a dozen feet.
+
+The Major selected a point as near as possible to the bank and
+immediately opposite the dead ox. He didn't waste much time in
+explanation, but, taking the axe, told me to follow him. The sun was
+just beginning to set. He hurried to the nearest clump of small trees
+and felled them rapidly, trimming off the branches and cutting them into
+poles about six feet long.
+
+My part of the work was to carry the poles to the hairpin bend. Twenty
+in all were cut, varying in thickness from two to five inches in
+diameter. Then we built our moral support, for it was no more. I held
+the tops of three poles while the Major tied them together with the
+piece of cord which he had brought from the waggon. Then, standing them
+on end, he spread them to form a tripod. This he reinforced with
+additional poles, which he made fast with strips of bark. The finished
+shelter looked like a skeleton bell-tent. It had neither strength nor
+stability, for we had no time to sink the ends of the poles in the
+sun-baked ground.
+
+By that time the sun had set, and the bushman, who had been watching us
+silently all this time, said something in that strange clicking language
+of his and hurried off, presumably to a place of safety.
+
+The Major thought a meal would do us good, and, going back along the
+river until we came to a dry place where the banks were high, he lit a
+fire. At the sight of a blaze I realised that I was cold. We did not
+think of our coats in the heat of the midday sun. However, there was
+nothing for it but to see the matter through.
+
+I felt quite comfortable after some bully-beef and bread, washed down
+with two or three cups of hot coffee.
+
+At eight o'clock we returned to our fort as quietly as possible,
+surprising on the way a hyena in the act of dragging off the hide of one
+of the oxen. We had to crawl very carefully into our shelter for fear of
+disturbing a pole and bringing the whole thing down about our ears.
+
+Once inside, I had ample time for reflection. We sat within three yards
+of the bank of the river, which was but four yards wide at this point. A
+yard from the opposite bank lay the dead ox; beyond the ox, for about a
+hundred yards, the grass had been burnt short; beyond that again was
+long grass and thick bush.
+
+The moon, which was three-quarter full, would not set for another five
+hours; everything was almost as clear as daylight between the river and
+the thick bush; we could see up and down the river bed. The ox, much
+distended by a day's exposure to the blazing African sun, was too near
+to be pleasant, and, being on a level with us, blotted out much of the
+landscape on the other side of the river. We could distinctly hear the
+hyenas, jackals, and the lesser scavengers quarrelling over the scraps
+of bone, hide, and offal left by the lions and the vultures.
+
+We sat facing the ox. The Major thought that if the lions came at all it
+would be from the thick bush ahead, for immediately behind us was open
+country for a considerable distance.
+
+Strangely enough, I felt extremely sleepy. We held a short whispered
+consultation, and it was agreed that I should sleep while I could. The
+Major promised to wake me if things became interesting. He wasn't
+sleepy.
+
+I lay down with my rifle by my side, my head touching one pole and my
+feet another. I slept almost immediately, in spite of the cold and the
+hardness of the ground. Not only was the air at night cold by contrast
+with the hot day, but the evaporation from the water holes lowered the
+temperature.
+
+The sound of my companion's rifle woke me. Sitting up, I saw a lion in
+the air, descending upon us. The Major fired again, and the lion fell
+into the water-course, literally at our feet. I could see his rump and
+tail quite plainly. His rage was terrific as he tried to reach us. His
+bellowing must have been heard for miles around, and doubtless many a
+bushman and many a beast quaked at the sound of it.
+
+I remember shouting at the top of my voice: "I can see his rump. Shall I
+shoot?"
+
+The reply, I must admit, disconcerted me: "Rump's the wrong end, but if
+he shows his head shoot it off."
+
+I watched the struggling beast so intently that I did not see that a
+second lion had approached. He made his presence known to me by a roar
+which sounded loud and clear above the thunder of his wounded fellow. He
+was standing broadside on to us, just behind the ox. The Major fired and
+the lion sprang forward. The noise was deafening. A chorus of two
+wounded lions is something not often heard.
+
+I now watched the second lion. He dashed off towards the bush, changed
+his mind and charged us. He came in great leaps, roaring as he came,
+then thought better of it, for he stopped sharply, throwing up clouds of
+dust as he did so, and pulled up almost on the ox. All I could see was
+his head, and that very indistinctly because of the dust which now
+enveloped both the lion and the dead ox.
+
+Again a steadying warning: "Don't shoot until you can see more of him
+than that."
+
+As the Major spoke the lion veered off and trotted back towards the
+bush, grunting savagely as he went.
+
+"Here he comes again!" And so he did, bounding along as before and
+bellowing so that I wondered whether our home of poles could stand the
+vibration of sound.
+
+Again the lion hesitated, again he sheered off, this time entering the
+bush. We heard him crashing through it until there was silence once
+more, for the first lion had now ceased to show any signs of life.
+
+I must admit to feeling decidedly uncomfortable then. My heart thumped
+like a sledge hammer. I longed to get out and stretch my legs. A great
+deal of action had been compressed into a short space of time, probably
+not more than ten minutes. To the Major's suggestion that we should have
+a look at the dead fellow I responded with alacrity--too much
+alacrity--my foot catching in one of the poles, the whole structure came
+crashing down upon his head.
+
+After extricating himself he climbed down into the river bed and stood
+looking at the lion. I followed him.
+
+I don't know why I did it--some sudden impulse for which I cannot
+account--but I stepped forward and raising the lion's head in my two
+hands, looked into his eyes.
+
+I certainly heard the Major talking, and I distinctly heard what he
+said.
+
+"What the devil are you doing, you damned young fool? Drop that head and
+come away. How do you know he's dead?"
+
+I took no notice. I couldn't. I was terrified, hypnotised. I could do
+nothing but stare and stare.
+
+No doubt the lion was dead, but the light in his eyes was not. It was
+dying, not dead. It was a blazing, vivid, blinding light--as it were,
+the light of an untamed spirit reluctantly taking leave of a mighty
+body.
+
+When at length I let that rugged head fall, the light had faded; I stood
+shivering, feeling little and mean, as one who had looked upon something
+not meant for him to see.
+
+
+
+
+WHITE MEN AND BLACK.
+
+
+
+
+WHITE MEN AT PLAY.
+
+
+The white man is superior to the black and must show it in his manners
+and deportment.
+
+This is an unwritten law, observed in the early days of any of our
+African settlements.
+
+For the man who breaks this law the punishment is swift and severe: he
+is shunned by his caste and colour.
+
+It is said, but it is nevertheless generally true, that as the
+settlement prospers, so does this excellent law fall into abeyance. Men
+without manners arrive and are soon in the majority.
+
+But in the beginnng, the white man watches himself very carefully. He
+knows all eyes are upon him. He must not permit himself to unbend. In
+the observance of the law, a man is very self-conscious and is apt to
+seem stiff and unsympathetic.
+
+In the very, very early days of Kazungula the natives of the place
+watched some white men relax, and the spectacle afforded them as much
+pleasurable interest as the knowledge that they had been seen caused
+pain to the white men.
+
+For many a day the natives of Kazungula commanded a ready audience
+anywhere in the country, for had not they, and they alone, seen white
+men at play?
+
+It came about in this way.
+
+A solitary white man stood on the north bank of the Zambesi river,
+looking across to the other side.
+
+It was Knight, the Native Commissioner, who had for the last fortnight
+expected daily the arrival of some waggons which carried his year's
+provisions and other stores. He had little of anything left. No sugar,
+very little tea, and a single bottle of gin represented his cellar.
+
+He longed each night for the usual "sundowner," but had determined not
+to open his one remaining bottle, in case of accident. Just what he
+meant by accident he could not have said. In answer to a direct question
+he might have replied: "Oh, anything might happen, one never knows."
+
+To-night, for some reason unknown to himself, he was more impatient of
+the sluggard waggons than usual. Would the darned things never come?
+
+The sun was setting and small flights of duck were going down stream to
+the marshy feeding grounds. A goose passed in the same direction.
+
+The reed birds, in large noisy flocks, were choosing their roosting
+place for the night. It seemed that they could not make up their minds.
+No sooner had they settled in one patch of reeds than they started up
+with much twittering in search of a better place. They had done this at
+least a dozen times, and their indecision irritated the man.
+
+A plump kingfisher, sitting on a log almost at his feet, dived from time
+to time into the shallow water and returned to his perch again. Knight
+noticed that the busy bird usually returned with a tiny silver fish in
+his bill, and mentally commended him for his good fishing.
+
+Well, the waggons hadn't come, and wouldn't come to-night. The sun had
+set and it was growing dark. A chill wind sprang up and the reed birds
+had become silent. The watcher turned slowly and walked in the direction
+of his camp.
+
+He had not gone far when he stopped, for he had caught sight of a
+queer-looking man hobbling towards him along the path which ran by the
+river side. In the dying light he saw that the stranger was a white man
+accompanied by a single native, that he wore a long blonde beard, that
+he was unusually tall, that his trousers were cut off above the knee,
+that he had no boots, that he was very lame and had his feet bandaged in
+rags. In short, he saw a fellow white man in distress.
+
+He forgot his own little troubles and hastened towards the newcomer.
+
+He gave the usual greeting of "Hulloa."
+
+"Hulloa," was the reply.
+
+"Going a bit short, I see."
+
+"Yes, about done in."
+
+"Let me give you a hand to my camp."
+
+"Thanks; I heard I should find you here."
+
+"Come far to-day?"
+
+"Yes, from the Falls."
+
+"A good forty-five miles, by Jove!"
+
+"Yes, quite that, I should think."
+
+The two men relapsed into silence; the taller one because he was very
+exhausted and felt it acutely now that he had reached his journey's end;
+the shorter, because he realised his companion's condition and did not
+wish to bother him with questions which could very well wait.
+
+On reaching the camp Knight shouted to his body servant: "Hot bath and
+be quick!" Turning to his companion, he said: "You'd like a hot bath,
+wouldn't you?"
+
+"There is only one thing on earth I should like better, but no doubt you
+can give me both."
+
+"Oh, I know; you want a drink, of course. I'll get you one in a second.
+Sit down."
+
+"Curse those waggons," muttered Knight, as he hurried off to get his
+last bottle of gin. His second impulse was to thank goodness that the
+bottle was a "baby," that is, one of the largest size.
+
+Returning with his precious "baby," he saw his guest's face clearly for
+the first time. The natives had lit the camp fire, and the light of it
+fell upon the strong features of the stranger.
+
+"Good Lord! It's Lindsay!"
+
+"Yes, why not? Didn't you recognise me at once?"
+
+"No. Will you have water or a sparklet with your gin?" asked Knight,
+pouring out about half a glass of the spirit--a quantity known to
+travellers as a "three-finger tot."
+
+"I'll chase it," said Lindsay, who, having gulped down the gin, held out
+his glass for some water.
+
+"Bath ready, Morena," a black boy called from an adjoining hut.
+
+"Have another?" said his host.
+
+"No, thanks. I can face your hot bath now."
+
+The tired man entered the hut, followed by the native who had reached
+the camp with him.
+
+Knight called his cook and took stock. What was there for dinner? Soup.
+Oh, yes, there was always soup, made by boiling down bones and meat,
+throwing in a few dried vegetables and thickening with peaflour.
+
+Fish? Good man; so he had caught some that very evening? Then there was
+that cold bush-pig's head. Yes, they would like that. What else was
+there? Remembering the leathery thing his cook called an omelette, he
+discouraged a suggestion of eggs.
+
+To be sure, there were chickens. They had just gone to roost, and were
+now quiet after a noisy bed-going. Yes, two very young ones
+spatchcocked, and with plenty of black pepper and a little salt. And
+there was one tinned plum pudding in the store; they would have that.
+
+This plum pudding had been suggested daily by the cook, and always
+rejected because it might be wanted. It was wanted now. Yes, they would
+have the plum pudding.
+
+And then there was the gin. Well, they wouldn't do so badly after all.
+Soup, fish, chickens, the cold pig's head and a hot plum pudding; what
+more could two men want?
+
+By this time Lindsay had splashed to his heart's content, and the
+generous qualities of the gin were having their effect. He felt a new
+man.
+
+"Are you out of your bath?"
+
+"Yes; can you give me some clean kit?"
+
+"Certainly, but will it fit you?"
+
+"Oh, near enough. It will be clean, which is the main thing."
+
+Much chaff ensued as Lindsay, who stood six feet three in his socks, got
+into some of his host's clothes, for Knight was the shorter of the two
+by some six inches, but fortunately broad in the shoulders.
+
+"Can't do you in boots."
+
+"Oh, that's all right. Give me some limbo[2] to tie up my feet."
+
+    [2] Slang term for calico.
+
+During the bandaging the camp dogs began to bark loudly, and both men
+paused to listen.
+
+"By the way," said Lindsay, "that must be Hobday. I walked on ahead of
+him; he is so deuced slow. Do you know Hobday? He's 'pills' to our
+expedition. Not a bad fellow, as doctors go."
+
+"No, I don't know him and you haven't told me what the expedition is or
+anything about anything yet."
+
+"Well, we've walked across country from Zanzibar, or rather Mombasa,
+looking for minerals."
+
+"Found anything?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, I'd better go and look out for--what did you say his name was?"
+
+"Hobday, quite a little fellow."
+
+Knight went out of the hut and, as he passed the kitchen, ordered
+another bath and told the cook that as a second white man was arriving
+he must kill another chicken.
+
+Almost immediately Hobday arrived. He was a short, precise little man,
+inclined to tubbiness.
+
+"How do you do? My name is Mr. Hobday. I am the medical man attached to
+an important expedition headed by Mr. J.G. Lindsay, who may not be
+unknown to you."
+
+To this long-winded greeting Knight replied: "Well, come along and have
+a drink and a hot bath and a change, and by that time dinner will be
+ready. Lindsay's here."
+
+"I do not often indulge in alcoholic beverages and never in the daytime,
+but after a very tiring day----"
+
+"Say when. Will you have a sparklet with it or do you prefer water?"
+
+"Er, thanks, a sparklet if you please. I am of opinion that the
+sparklet is a very useful invention. What would not that great traveller
+and hunter, Gordon Cumming, have given for what amounts to a portable
+soda-water factory? Ah, thank you, that is ample. And, as I always tell
+my patients, if they must drink alcohol, they will find in gin its least
+harmful form."
+
+"What a queer little devil," thought Knight.
+
+"I am greatly obliged to you for this stimulant, and now I shall be
+further and deeply indebted to you if I may have a bath. I always say
+that a hot bath, when one is tired, revives one more quickly and
+effectually than anything else."
+
+Knight found it difficult to reply suitably to this, and was relieved
+when the bath was announced and the doctor disappeared into the hut.
+
+Lindsay looked extremely funny in Knight's clothes. The old shooting
+jacket was a little short in the skirt and sleeves. The trousers reached
+half way down the tall man's shins, but he felt clean and comfortable
+and appearances didn't matter.
+
+"Have another?"
+
+"Thanks."
+
+The two men sat and talked whilst the third bathed.
+
+The rest of the expedition had remained at the Victoria Falls. There
+were a dozen white men altogether, and about a hundred and fifty
+natives. Lindsay heard that Knight was at Kazungula and came on to see
+him. The pair had been through the Matabele rebellion together, and had
+had other experiences in common. Hobday had insisted on coming too. His
+devotion to "The Head of the Expedition" rather embarrassed Lindsay. He
+was not a bad fellow on the whole, and a very capable doctor. The rest
+of the men with the exception of Gray--Knight knew Gray--were
+professional prospectors, good enough men at their particular job but a
+troublesome lot on an expedition.
+
+No, they hadn't found anything really worth while, Lindsay thought, but
+some indications of oil might turn out a big thing.
+
+Yes, they were going straight home from the Falls by way of Bulawayo,
+Salisbury and Beira, and if any of them came back to have another look,
+it would be this way and not in from Mombasa.
+
+The question "Have another?" had been asked and satisfactorily answered
+before Hobday reappeared. He looked quite as funny in his host's clothes
+as Lindsay did. The only difference was that the coat and trousers
+supplied to him were as much too big for him as they were too small for
+Lindsay.
+
+Hobday began to apologise for his appearance, but the announcement that
+dinner was ready cut short the unnecessary speech.
+
+All three were hungry, the two visitors especially so.
+
+If, during dinner, Hobday noticed that a native replenished his glass
+whenever it was empty, he made no protest.
+
+The conversation almost at once turned to England, to London, and what
+each man had seen and done when last there. Towards the end of the meal
+dancing was the topic. These new dances, the jazz, the hesitation, the
+two-step, the fox-trot, and the rest; all agreed that they were
+impossible, that there was little difference, if any, between them and
+the average Kaffir dance. Hobday became quite eloquent on the subject,
+and, as they moved to chairs set ready for them round a camp fire,
+gravely stepped a measure which he was pleased to call the stately
+waltz, and then proceeded to contrast it with what he termed the
+ridiculous prancings of the present day.
+
+Although the uncomplimentary terms which he applied to modern dancing
+could with equal justice have been applied to the waltz as danced by
+him, his companions agreed and fell to talking again of dances they had
+been to when last at home.
+
+Suddenly Lindsay said: "Why shouldn't we have a dance? One could hum the
+tune while the other two dance. We can take it turn and turn about to
+him. You and Hobday dance first and I'll hum. Why not?"
+
+And thus began the dance which is talked of to this day by the natives
+who saw it.
+
+Lindsay hummed the "Eton Boating Song" whilst Knight and Hobday waltzed
+round and round the fire. Although he bobbed about in an unnecessarily
+energetic manner, it was clear to Knight that Hobday had been inside a
+ballroom.
+
+Then Knight sat down and hummed the "Blue Danube," but very badly, and
+with many notes strange to the tune, for Lindsay was six foot three and
+Hobday only five foot four!
+
+Then Knight and Lindsay danced to the "Merry Widow," hummed by Hobday.
+They really got on very well together in spite of Lindsay's bandaged
+feet, for both, in civilisation, were adjudged good dancing men.
+
+After that they each had some light refreshment in the shape of another
+tot of gin, and it was then that Hobday showed himself to be a man of
+imagination.
+
+"Let's all dance now," he said. "Let's dance the Lancers."
+
+"How?" said Lindsay, "we are only three and there should be at least
+eight for the Lancers."
+
+"That don't matter," replied Hobday, "you two fellows take sides, I'll
+do top and bottom; our partners--well, they're in England, don't you
+see?"
+
+And so it came about that in the heart of Africa, under the star-lit
+sky, three sane and more or less sober Englishmen danced right through
+the Lancers from beginning to end, one taking top and bottom, the other
+two the sides, whilst their partners were present only in the mind of
+each.
+
+After the dance they stood silently round the dying fire, gazing into
+the embers.
+
+Who can say what fair forms and faces they saw there?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was Knight who kicked the logs of the fire together and so brought
+about a sudden blaze.
+
+"What's that?" asked Lindsay, peering into the darkness.
+
+All looked and saw the whites of innumerable black men's eyes reflecting
+the camp firelight. Then there was a patter of many feet as the silent
+witnesses to the dance hurried away.
+
+
+
+
+ON THE BUILDING OF BRIDGES.
+
+
+If, in the course of conversation, a Rhodesian referred to "the Old
+Man," his fellow Rhodesians knew that Cecil John Rhodes was meant.
+
+No one who knew him personally spoke of that great man as Rhodes; in
+Rhodesia such familiarity was impertinence.
+
+If anyone in the Bulawayo Club said: "Rhodes told me ..." we turned our
+backs, as we knew the fellow was about to lie.
+
+No, it must be "Mr. Rhodes" or "the Old Man."
+
+I, personally, never got beyond "Mr. Rhodes" in his lifetime, and I
+don't see why I should now that he is dead.
+
+As I was about to remark, the best piece of imaginative work that Mr.
+Rhodes ever did was to plan the Cape to Cairo Railway. It has not been
+carried out yet, but that doesn't matter; one day we shall see it,
+unless flying kills the train.
+
+The corner-stone to this imaginative piece of work is, without a doubt,
+the bridge over the Victoria Falls.
+
+I watched that bridge being built, not girder by girder, of course, but
+generally speaking. Old Mkuni watched it girder by girder.
+
+Mkuni was a fine old savage, who had, in his far off younger days,
+carved out a little kingdom for himself. He possessed the left bank of a
+little river called the Maramba, some square miles of rock, a few acres
+of good land, and--the Victoria Falls.
+
+A man who could establish his claim to the Falls has a right to be
+regarded as of some importance.
+
+Within the memory of man a large herd of elephants went over the Falls
+and whirled in the Boiling Pot below--a noble offering to the spirits
+who dwell there. Anyone who denies that the Falls are the abode of
+spirits is a fool, be he white man or black.
+
+Old Mkuni looked after the Falls and ministered in divers ways to the
+wants of the spirits who inhabited the place. He it was who, in fair and
+fierce battle, took this precious spot from old Sekute, the wall-eyed
+ruffian who used to live on the north bank of the Zambesi.
+
+To hide his defeat from the eyes of passing natives, old Sekute set up a
+noble avenue of poles from the river to his village. On every pole he
+placed a human skull; these, he vowed, were the headpieces of Mkuni's
+men. Mkuni could afford to laugh, for did not he and all the world know
+that some of the grim trophies were the heads of Sekute's own followers,
+slain by Mkuni's men and added to at the expense of half a hundred of
+Sekute's own slaves? All this was before Livingstone discovered the
+Falls.
+
+So you see, when all is said and done, Mkuni was a man worthy of
+respect. He always had mine, and we were fast friends.
+
+It fell to my lot to tell him of the bridge which would stand astride
+the tumbling waters. He was interested, and gave his consent without
+reserve.
+
+When he asked me how it was going to be done, I had to confess I did
+not know; engineering feats are not in my line.
+
+"Are you going to build it, Morena?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Who then will build this bridge?"
+
+"The people of the Great Man."
+
+"The King of all the white men?"
+
+"No, not he himself, but one of his greatest men."
+
+"If the King would build it, I should believe, or," he added most
+politely, "if you would build it, I should agree that it can be done,
+but what do others know of bridges?"
+
+This was a little difficult to answer, so I told him to watch.
+
+Mkuni took my words literally; he did watch. He could be seen daily
+perched upon a rock overlooking the work, surrounded by a large number
+of his own people.
+
+From time to time strangers from inland added to the watchers. To all
+Mkuni held forth:
+
+"Am not I an old man now? Have I not killed many in battle? Did I not
+take the thundering smoke from a certain person? Who then knows so much
+of the building of bridges as I?"
+
+With this inconsequent line of argument the crowd of watchers would
+murmur full agreement.
+
+"When a man builds a small hut, is a pole from the ground to the roof
+necessary?"
+
+"No," from his audience.
+
+"That is true, but if a man builds a hut as high as Heaven, is not a
+pole necessary?"
+
+All agreed that it was so.
+
+"But see now these white men, who build a bridge across the thundering
+smoke. It is not the King of the white men who builds, nor he who
+collects from us the Hut Tax, but strangers. They build this bridge from
+the north bank and from the south, but where is the pole to hold up the
+roof of the bridge?"
+
+From day to day Mkuni's supporters increased in number.
+
+"Come and see the white man's bridge fall into the tumbling waters," was
+his daily invitation, and many came.
+
+"I am sorry for these white men, for they work to no profit."
+
+And Mkuni's adherents increased.
+
+But, in spite of all, the work progressed. The thin steel arms flung out
+from either bank crept nearer daily towards the clasping of hands, and
+yet the bridge did not fall.
+
+Poor old Mkuni, firm in his belief, found it hard to stomach the
+thinning in the number of his fellow watchers. He became highly
+indignant. In vain he talked--piled unanswerable argument upon argument
+unanswerable. Someone put it about that there was nothing the white man
+could not do. Many agreed with this, and went home.
+
+At last the engineer who built the Victoria Falls Bridge saw his work
+complete.
+
+Mkuni, too, saw that the work was finished--all but the pole in the
+middle to keep it from tumbling down.
+
+Under all his anxiety the poor old man had shrunk visibly; so, too, had
+the number of those who believed in him, and had come at his invitation
+to watch with him the disaster which he assured them must overtake that
+bridge.
+
+Poor old Mkuni!
+
+It must be admitted that there is something of the gentleman about the
+raw, untutored savage, for when the first train had crossed safely over
+the Victoria Falls Bridge, Mkuni stood alone on his rock. No one
+remained as witness to his discomfiture.
+
+He climbed slowly down to his village. Everyone in it was busy with his
+or her ordinary daily occupation; all strangers had quietly gone their
+several ways.
+
+
+
+
+THE COMPLEAT ANGLER.
+
+
+R. E. Baker was engaged as conductor of our waggons on one of our
+journeys from Bulawayo to the Zambesi, and a more capable cattle-man
+than he did not, I am sure, exist between the Cape and Cairo.
+
+If an ox wouldn't pull, he made it. If an ox went sick, he cured it with
+amazing rapidity.
+
+Baker, though English by descent, was a Cape Dutchman through and
+through. A bad-natured ox he named "Englishman," and flogged the
+wretched beast into a better frame of mind.
+
+On the other hand, he would walk miles to find good grazing for his
+cattle, and to see Baker caress an ox was a thing to remember. Not being
+a cattle-man myself, I thought our conductor was gouging out the eye of
+an ox. It certainly looked uncommonly like it. He was forcing his fist
+with a rotary movement into the beast's eye.
+
+In answer to my questioning, he explained that he was caressing the ox,
+that cattle appreciated the attention; you had to be vigorous or you
+tickled the poor thing, and oxen didn't like being tickled.
+
+He was obviously right, for each ox, as Baker approached, seemed to
+know what to expect and tamely submitted.
+
+A few days out from Bulawayo Baker came back from the water carrying
+fish. He had caught them, he said, in the large water-hole. It never
+occurred to me that there would be any fish in the almost dried-up
+rivers which we crossed from time to time. Baker assured me that where
+there was water there were fish, but you must know how to catch them.
+
+A day or two later we outspanned close to some water-holes. Baker said
+he was going to catch some fish, and asked me whether I would like to
+come too. I said I should, and began unpacking a rod and some tackle
+which I had bought in London with the intention of fishing for
+tiger-fish in the Zambesi.
+
+Baker watched me unpack and make my selection. He seemed much amused.
+Presently he drew from his pocket his own tackle, which appeared to me
+to be a confused mass of tangled string and hooks.
+
+We set out. Baker stopped at a small deep hole containing clear water.
+It was my turn to smile. The pool he was going to fish in was a little
+larger than a water-butt.
+
+I went on, and found a fairly long pool. The water was rather muddy, and
+I found little depth anywhere. However, I hoped for the best, and fished
+just clear of the bottom. I used as bait a small piece of meat from a
+wild pigeon's breast, recommended by Baker.
+
+I have a certain amount of patience, but not, I fancy, quite sufficient
+to entitle me to describe myself as a fisherman. After about two hours
+of this fiddling, I gave it up and went in search of Baker.
+
+To my amazement, he had quite a score of fish on the grass by his side.
+
+"Did you catch all those?" I asked.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"In that hole?"
+
+"Why, yes."
+
+"How on earth do you do it?"
+
+By way of reply he asked me how many I had caught. I said, "None."
+
+"Ah," said Baker, "you shouldn't fish, you should angle. Watch me."
+
+I sat down and watched.
+
+Baker had a short, thick stick in his hand. From the end of the stick
+hung a thick piece of whipcord. On the end of the cord he had a stone
+with a hole in it, what we, as children, used to call a lucky stone.
+Just above the stone he had tied a skinned pigeon--the whole bird. Hooks
+radiated in every direction from the bird; hooks set at every
+conceivable angle--dozens of hooks. From time to time Baker threw a few
+breadcrumbs at his bait. I could plainly see the small fish cluster
+round. Now and then he struck sharply. Nearly every time he fouled a
+small fish, mostly under the jaw or in the belly. Each time he hooked a
+fish he repeated: "My lad, you shouldn't fish; you should angle."
+
+When we reached the Gwai River, Baker produced a long hand-line with an
+immense hook on the end of it. The bait he used was a lump of washing
+soap. I didn't go with him because I wasn't ready and he was impatient
+to begin.
+
+"We shall catch big barbles here," said Baker.
+
+I followed him, and saw him throw his lump of soap well out into the
+river. I stood on the bank above and watched.
+
+Baker lit his pipe, looked up and down the river, and at his line. Then
+he shifted the line to his left hand, which he lifted to his left ear.
+With his right he made a winding movement close to his head, and said:
+"'Ullo! Exchange; put me on to Mr. Barble, please, miss."
+
+To my intense amusement, and to Baker's obvious surprise, there was a
+sharp tug at the line. He remained for a while with his hand suspended
+near his right ear as though still on the handle of the old-fashioned
+telephone instrument. Then he gave a violent strike. But the barble--if
+indeed it was a barble--had had time to spit out the piece of soap and
+so escape.
+
+Baker, still unaware of my presence, said: "Damn the fellow!" He shifted
+the line to his right hand, and went through the pantomime of getting on
+to the Exchange again, this time ringing with his left hand.
+
+"'Ullo! Is that you, Exchange? Put me on to Mr. Barble again, please,
+miss."
+
+No response from the fish.
+
+"'Ullo! Exchange! What? No answer from Mr. Barble? Gone to lunch, eh?"
+
+I moved off quietly up the river, and in course of time succeeded in
+catching a mud-fish weighing forty-eight pounds. I came back a couple of
+hours later, and found Baker had landed two immense fish of the same
+kind; one weighed fifty-three pounds and the other fifty-nine. He had
+also caught a poisonous looking eel. How he had landed these monsters he
+would not tell me; he contented himself with repeating: "My lad, you
+mustn't fish; you must angle."
+
+When we reached the Zambesi, Baker almost neglected his cattle. He had
+never seen this grand river before. He at once got out a line and went
+"angling."
+
+Coming down the river bank, I saw Baker standing on a rock a few yards
+from the bank.
+
+Sitting on the bank was an old man, watching him.
+
+"Any luck?" said I.
+
+"No."
+
+"Been here long?"
+
+"Not very long, but that old man talks too much to please me."
+
+I looked down at the old man. He looked up at me. He greeted me in the
+local language. In his language I replied. Whereupon he calmly said: "I
+have been telling that white man that from the rock on which he stands a
+crocodile took a woman yesterday."
+
+I hurriedly translated. Baker did no more angling that day! He thought
+the old man had been saying "How do you do?" to him.
+
+In the end we converted Baker to our way of fishing, so that he became
+an expert spinner and killed many a noble tiger-fish. But he had a
+mishap the first day he used a rod which almost decided him not to use
+one again. He was fishing from the bank for bream, which run large in
+that part of the river. He used a float for the first time. Presently
+his float disappeared. Baker struck upwards, using both hands. He pulled
+his fish out of the water, but with such force that it flew over his
+head and fell with a splash into a pond behind--free.
+
+I think we just saved him from an immediate return to "angling" by
+pretending not to have seen his discomfiture.
+
+
+
+
+THE SONG OF THE GREAT OCCASION.
+
+
+The news spread quickly that the "Great Man," his wife and some friends
+were coming north of the Zambesi to shoot. Williams, the Native
+Commissioner, heard it from the boy who looked after his fowls a full
+week before he received official warning from Headquarters.
+
+How the chicken-boy heard of it remains a mystery. He who can tell you
+how news travels so rapidly in Africa can no doubt explain; but in
+answer to questioning, the boy replied: "People say so."
+
+Thanks to this advance notice, Williams had time to make his plans at
+leisure. He had experience of native rumours of this kind, and,
+invariably acting upon them, gained a reputation for good organising.
+
+No doubt the Sovereign's representative would want to shoot lion,
+buffalo, eland, sable, and, in addition, at least a specimen of each of
+the lesser inhabitants of the plain and forest. Well, he would do this
+and that and the other, and it would not be Williams's fault if a
+thoroughly representative bag were not made.
+
+Like all sportsmen in official positions, living far from Headquarters
+and having a large district to control, Williams knew exactly where the
+game was most plentiful. He kept the information to himself as a general
+rule, for he well knew that if he did not do so his special reserves
+would soon cease to exist.
+
+But for the direct representative of the King nothing was too good.
+
+Williams made his plans, built a camp and awaited the arrival of his
+visitors.
+
+Two days before the "Great Man" was due to arrive, old Garamapingwe, the
+musician, passed that way. He stopped to pay his respects to Williams.
+
+"Good day, my father."
+
+"Good day to you, Garamapingwe."
+
+"What are the news, my Chief?"
+
+"I look to you for news."
+
+"Oh, there is nothing but the coming of the 'Great Man.'"
+
+"Yes, he is coming."
+
+"I should like to see the 'Great Man.'"
+
+"You shall, Garamapingwe."
+
+"Much thanks to you, my Chief."
+
+An idea occurred to Williams. No doubt the sport which he had planned to
+provide would be excellent, but what about the evenings spent round the
+camp fire after dinner?
+
+It might happen that his guests did not want to play bridge. He himself
+detested the game--most unnatural of him, but there it was. He disliked
+"shop" out of hours, and one could have too much talk of personal
+experiences. He must provide for a possible gap.
+
+How many men in a thousand had heard native African music? Not the stuff
+you can hear any day from the boys' compound at the back of the house,
+but music, worthy of the name of music, made by men like Garamapingwe?
+Very few.
+
+So Williams added to his plan.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was Friday. The Great Man had been shooting for three days. The first
+two were decidedly promising. Nothing very wonderful had been shot, but
+very fair heads of eland, buffalo, roan and waterbuck had been secured
+by various members of the party.
+
+The Great Man had done fairly well, but he was perhaps more at home with
+a shot gun.
+
+But Friday had been a bad day. At the Great Man's request Williams had
+gone with him to look for Sable antelope. So far no one had shot a
+Sable. Well, they came across Sable, and in this manner.
+
+At daylight all had gone their several ways.
+
+The Great Man and Williams had gone east. Good luck, Sable spoor and
+quite fresh. Williams was a fair tracker: he had picked up something of
+the art from the bushmen down south. They followed it, Williams leading,
+carefully. The report of a rifle in the distance! The Great Man stopped.
+Williams felt savage. Who was this poaching? Who had left his beat and
+jumped their claim? He motioned the Great Man to sit down.
+
+They waited.
+
+They waited for ten minutes and then the snapping of a twig, somewhere
+to the left, attracted Williams's attention.
+
+By Jingo, there they were, the Sable.
+
+Led by a cow, a noble herd of Sable antelope came slowly through the
+forest.
+
+The Great Man looked at Williams, who grinned and commanded quiet by
+lifting his hand.
+
+On they came, cows, cows and more cows. Where was the bull? Surely a
+big bull accompanied such a herd of cows?
+
+More cows and young bulls, but as yet no big, black, outstanding bull.
+
+Williams was puzzled.
+
+The Great Man became restive under inaction: to him there was no
+apparent difference between a cow and a bull. He had never seen Sable
+antelope before.
+
+The huge herd filed past within forty yards.
+
+Still no bull.
+
+The Great Man looked at Williams and his expression was none too
+pleasant.
+
+Williams felt desperate. He began to think it best after all to let the
+Great Man kill a good cow and have done with it when, looking to the
+left, he saw the bull. It was the bull! Black as ink, with a snow-white
+belly. Horns seemed above the average.
+
+A great spasm of joy gripped Williams's heart. Here was a bull worthy of
+the Great Man, the direct representative of the Sovereign.
+
+In response to a sign from Williams, the Great Man looked, saw, raised
+his rifle and--Williams checked him. Good Heavens, what was the matter
+with that bull? Seemed to be going short, off fore. It couldn't be.
+
+Then he motioned to the Great Man to take his shot. The next moment the
+noble bull crashed to the ground and the cows filed on at a gallop and
+so out of sight.
+
+"A good shot and a good bull, Sir," said Williams, but he was conscious
+of a sickening sense of dread.
+
+They hurried up. The bull lay stone dead with a bullet exactly placed
+behind the shoulder.
+
+"Shall I mark out the head skin for you, Sir? You'll want to keep this
+head?"
+
+"Yes, please."
+
+Williams worked like a man possessed. He cut the sleek, black skin from
+the withers to the brisket as the bull lay. Without moving the carcass
+he made a slit up the mane to the base of the skull. Here he stopped and
+listened. He heard something. Footsteps approaching. With a gasp of
+despair he dropped his hunting knife and faced the way the bull had
+come.
+
+Curse the fellow! There he was; the Great Man's A.D.C., babbling like
+the fool he was. He was talking in English to the native who accompanied
+him. "Are you sure you are on the right track?" The native said nothing
+because he didn't understand one word of any language but his own. The
+A.D.C. headed straight for the Great Man's bull. Presently he looked up
+and walked forward smiling.
+
+"Hullo, Soames, what are you doing here in my patch of country?"
+
+"I hit a Sable bull about two miles back and followed him."
+
+"You hit a bull?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"So I have killed your bull for you, have I?"
+
+"Oh no, Sir. It's your bull, of course."
+
+"My dear boy, I know the laws of shooting. Mr. Williams, was this bull
+hit before I killed him?"
+
+"I'll look, Sir," said Williams, feeling like a detected thief.
+
+Fancy having to say "yes" to the question! There was the bullet hole in
+the off fore fetlock. What a shot!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The party dined under a sense of restraint that night. The Great Man
+congratulated his A.D.C. on having secured a fine bull, but that didn't
+improve matters.
+
+After dinner it was a silent party round the camp fire.
+
+Williams spoke.
+
+"Would you like to hear some African music, Sir?"
+
+"Very much indeed. Do you play?"
+
+"No, Sir, but I have a man here."
+
+"By all means let us hear him."
+
+Garamapingwe was sent for.
+
+The old musician came, followed by two other natives. He himself carried
+two curious looking musical instruments, one of the men carried another;
+the third man, led by a little native boy, was blind and empty handed.
+
+The three natives greeted the Great Man suitably who as suitably
+replied.
+
+They then sat down on the other side of the fire and Garamapingwe struck
+a few bold chords. No common musician he.
+
+Williams said something in the vernacular to Garamapingwe, who replied.
+
+"What did he say?" asked the Great Man.
+
+"I asked him what he was going to sing," replied Williams, "and he said:
+'The Song of the Great Occasion.'"
+
+"Will you please ask him what this great occasion is of which he is
+going to sing?"
+
+The question was put and the reply translated. "The great occasion is
+the visit paid to our poor country by the Great Man who represents the
+King of the white men."
+
+"How very interesting! Please tell him to proceed."
+
+Garamapingwe sang and played vigorously. He played an instrument with
+either hand. His companion played one with both his hands. The blind
+man droned in chorus to Garamapingwe's recitative. It was a very fine
+performance. The Great Man had an ear for music. Williams was delighted,
+for the Great Man seemed both pleased and interested.
+
+The second verse was ended and the third began, when suddenly the blind
+man leaped into the air, interrupting the harmony with a piercing
+shriek.
+
+All but Williams and the natives thought this part of the performance.
+They were not left long in doubt. Clutching wildly at his clothing, the
+blind man moaned and moaned and moaned. He stripped himself and turned
+to the fire to be inspected by his fellows. The Great Man's wife fled to
+her tent. Williams had the musicians hustled away.
+
+A large scorpion had crept up and stung the blind man as he sat.
+
+Thus the song of the Great Occasion ended abruptly.
+
+
+
+
+THE DESCENT OF MAN.
+
+
+Randall was skinning a monkey. He had shot two monkeys during the
+morning and had already skinned one of them. He collected monkeys and
+had done so steadily for years.
+
+Randall was District Commissioner and Magistrate of a large tract of
+British Africa. One of the many men who live and die unheard of by the
+British public; men who quietly but efficiently "administer" England's
+African possessions.
+
+Some day, perhaps, England may realise what a debt it owes to these
+unknown men.
+
+I was Randall's assistant. I had served for four years; that is to say,
+one year beyond the probationary period. I had made good to the extent
+of getting on the Establishment, and held the rank of Assistant Native
+Commissioner.
+
+Randall had been in the Service for twenty-three years. In his dealings
+with the natives he was firm and just. He had a deep sympathy for the
+people entrusted to his care, but he successfully concealed it from
+them. He used to say to me "Play the game with your people but don't
+slobber over them, they don't understand that sort of thing."
+
+It has often been said that all men who have spent more than ten years
+in the heart of Africa are mad. I have known few saner men than Randall,
+but I cannot deny that he had one peculiarity: he collected monkeys.
+
+I could never understand why he shot the wretched things, or why he
+skinned them in such a peculiar way. Let me explain.
+
+Randall only shot one kind of monkey, and only the mature male of that
+kind. Having bagged his monkey, he would consult a shabby little black
+pocket-book, make an entry in it, and then set to work to skin the
+beast.
+
+From watching him I gathered this much: he kept only the head and
+shoulders and one arm of each monkey. Sometimes it was the right arm,
+sometimes the left, never both. Some kind of calculation in the
+pocket-book appeared to be necessary before he could determine which arm
+he wanted.
+
+I also observed that he carefully cleaned all particles of flesh from
+the skull and arm bones and, having put some preservative on the skin,
+wrapped it round the skull and bones, making a neat little parcel of the
+whole. After labelling the specimen, he packed it away in a box which
+was carried, wherever he travelled, by his body servant, Monga.
+
+On reaching the Station, after a journey in the District, Monga and his
+master would repack the contents of the box in a large tin-lined case.
+Randall had three such cases. Two of them were quite full, the third
+nearly so.
+
+I never questioned Randall about his hobby. Once I shot a monkey and
+gave it to Monga, thinking his master would skin it; but he did not; he
+simply told his man to throw it away. As he said nothing to me about it,
+I let the matter drop and made no more advances.
+
+As I said before, on this particular morning Randall had shot two
+monkeys. He decided to keep the left arm in each case. Monga was
+squatting on the ground in front of him, holding the body of the dead
+monkey whilst his master skinned it. The pair were silent; from long
+practice Monga knew exactly what was required of him and needed no
+instructions. Presently Randall said "This is the last one, Monga: no
+more monkeys after this one."
+
+Monga accepted the statement without comment, but it set me speculating
+afresh upon the object of Randall's quaint hobby. However, as my Chief
+offered no explanation, I did not ask for one.
+
+When the skinning was all but done, Monga permitted himself to remark,
+"Monkeys were men like me once, Morena."
+
+Randall paused and looked gravely at Monga for a moment; then, bending
+to his task once more, he said, "Monga, I believe you, tell me more."
+
+Now, if Monga resembled anything, it was a monkey. His eyes were set
+close together, his nose was very small, his lower jaw protruded
+slightly, and his forehead was very low and much puckered. I saw the
+humour of the conversation and wanted to laugh, but to have done so
+would, I felt, have lowered me in the estimation of my Chief. Randall
+had once said to me: "Blackmore, in spite of your ridiculous name, you
+should get on in the Native Department. Had your name been Whitelaw, or
+even Smith, you would not have been handicapped. You have a stupid name
+to live down, for this is a black man's country. However, always
+remember this: never laugh with a native, and only laugh at him if he is
+deserving of punishment and you wish to punish him. Only a fool beats a
+native; ridicule is a cleaner form of punishment, and not as
+brutalising."
+
+I suppressed my desire to laugh, and Monga resumed.
+
+"Yes, Morena, monkeys were men once just the same as we are. They lived
+in their own villages in nice huts; they had their own chiefs, and spoke
+like people do.
+
+"But they became lazy--lazy to hoe their fields and to weed them; lazy
+to build their huts and to plaster them. So they said to each other: 'It
+is a bad thing to work; let us go to the forest and live there, and we
+will find fruits in the forest to eat.' So they went to the forest and
+lived there.
+
+"One day one said: 'Are we not tired of making clothes? Let us grow hair
+on our bodies that we may be warm always.' And all agreed and grew hair
+on their bodies.
+
+"When the autumn came, and the grain in the lands was ripe, the lazy
+ones came to steal from the men's gardens. The men tried to watch their
+gardens, but the thieves were too clever.
+
+"The monkeys had their servants, and when they wanted food they sent
+their servants on to see if there were any men in the lands. If there
+were no men there they would steal corn and pumpkins and melons and
+calabashes, and carry them away to the forest.
+
+"And if they found a sleeping man watching the fields they passed by him
+gently; and when they had finished stealing they would cut some twigs
+and beat him severely. And when the man woke up and began to run away,
+they would laugh at him and mock him.
+
+"When the monkeys returned to the forest with the foods which they had
+stolen, they lit fires and cooked them. Then the people, seeing the
+smoke, came with sticks and assegais, and beat some monkeys and killed
+others.
+
+"Then the monkeys said: 'It is not good to have fire, for the men see it
+and come and kill us.' So now the monkeys steal when the men are not
+looking, and eat the food uncooked in the trees at night."
+
+Randall made only one comment. He asked Monga where the monkeys got
+their tails from. But Monga admitted that he did not know.
+
+Randall had now finished his skinning, and had made the usual neat
+little parcels; Monga brought the box and carefully packed them in with
+the rest.
+
+The travelling box was quite full!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A few days later Randall developed black-water fever and died. We
+carried his body back to the Station and buried him at the foot of a
+large baobab tree. The natives for many miles round attended.
+
+When all was over, and Randall's successor was on his way to take charge
+of the district, Monga came to me and reminded me that there were some
+monkey skins in the travelling box to be packed away in the large
+tin-lined case. As he knew more of his master's strange hobby than I
+did, he did the packing whilst I looked on.
+
+When the last skin had been transferred I realised that the case was
+quite full, and would not have held another one. This, I remember,
+struck me as being uncanny. Between us we soldered up the tin lining and
+nailed on the lid of the case.
+
+Then Monga looked at me for instructions. This set me thinking. Why on
+earth did Randall collect monkeys? I examined the lids of the cases and
+found his name and home address neatly painted on each. Clearly,
+therefore, he had intended to take them home. But this did not explain
+why he had collected them. I thought of the shabby little black
+note-book, so went into the house and looked through it. All I could
+gather was that Randall had collected three hundred and eighty
+right-armed and one hundred and twenty left-armed skins. Five hundred
+wretched monkeys--and what for? And why not two hundred and fifty right
+arms and two hundred and fifty left; or why not all right or all left?
+
+I went back to where Monga stood by the cases, and asked him why his
+master had collected the monkeys. He seemed surprised at my question; it
+apparently never occurred to him to inquire into the why and the
+wherefore of any of his master's acts. He seems to have accepted all his
+master did or said as a matter of course.
+
+The whole thing was monstrous. I could not send the wretched things to
+his people at home. They would think him mad, as perhaps he was as
+regards his hobby, but no saner man ever lived so far as anything else
+was concerned.
+
+Then I had an inspiration. I ordered a large hole to be dug at the foot
+of another tree, which stood about a hundred yards from that under which
+Randall's grave lay. Into this hole I had the three cases carried, and
+the earth shovelled back. Monga didn't disapprove, or, if he did, he
+made no protest. I think he took the whole thing as a matter of course,
+as was his way.
+
+I never found out, nor can I imagine, why Randall collected the heads
+and shoulders of five hundred monkeys--three hundred and eighty with
+right arms and one hundred and twenty with left arms attached.
+
+Someone reading this story may guess or may know. For myself, I frankly
+admit defeat.
+
+
+
+
+THE RAILWAY CONTRACTOR.
+
+
+Bositi had returned to his village after six years' absence. Most of the
+time he had spent on the railway construction, where the work was heavy
+and the pay light. In physique he was improved almost beyond
+recognition.
+
+The large blue-and-yellow tin box which he carried on his head contained
+the miscellaneous goods upon which he had spent some of his wages. Much
+of his money had gone in drink, more in gambling.
+
+After Bositi had been away two years the headman and elders presumed his
+death. So, too, did his wife; she married again, and had presented her
+new husband with two children.
+
+Bositi was unreasonable about it. On being told that he was supposed to
+be dead, he insulted the headman and beat the woman who was once his
+wife. When her husband protested, he beat him too.
+
+After he had thus relieved his feelings he opened his box, and took from
+it many strings of pink and white beads; these he gave to the mothers of
+the pretty marriageable girls of the village. In return he received much
+strong beer. The beer made him drunk--too drunk to beat or insult anyone
+else, but not too drunk to grasp securely in a moist hand the key of
+his precious box.
+
+Next morning he made his peace with the headman by giving him a hat, but
+he rudely rebuffed his late wife, whose cupidity was excited by the size
+of that blue-and-yellow tin box.
+
+He also made friends with the men of the village--not excluding him who
+had married his wife--by distributing pieces of strong twist tobacco.
+
+After a few days' rest he made certain selections from the treasure in
+his box and set out for the Chief's village. When there he showed off.
+He wore his best clothes, and spoke bad English fluently and loudly in
+the traders' stores. While his money lasted the traders suffered him;
+when it was spent he was told not to come again.
+
+The Chief soon heard of him and sent for him.
+
+Bositi had never been presented at Court before. He was immensely
+impressed. He squatted in the sand, one of a long row of strangers to
+the capital, with his gifts neatly folded before him. Immediately in
+front of him was a long thatched building. Three sides of it were closed
+in with reed mats, the fourth was open to the public. This, a lounger
+told him, was the National Council House, or Khotla.
+
+The Chief had not yet arrived, but his orchestra was playing idly. It
+consisted of three gigantic harmonicas and a number of drums. The
+instrumentalists showed their utter contempt of all common people by
+talking loudly as they strummed and thumped.
+
+The Court Fool was aping birds. He had a bunch of feathers in his hair
+and a few stuck in his waist-belt behind; this was the extent of his
+make-up. For the moment he was imitating a crested crane. The bird is
+beautiful, the Fool was hideous; yet such was his art of mimicry that
+all recognised the bird he had chosen to represent.
+
+The Town Crier paused for a moment to bawl something unintelligibly, and
+then passed on his way.
+
+Some oxen straying by stopped to sniff at some rubbish. The armed guards
+drove them off with a few cuts of their raw hide whips.
+
+Bositi had brought as a present to the Chief a large blanket with a
+realistic lion printed on it, a highly-coloured pocket handkerchief, and
+a new brass tinder box. He mentally contrasted his gifts with those
+brought by other men--mostly to the disadvantage of the others.
+
+One old man was about to offer two goodly tusks of ivory. By the fuss
+the hangers-on made of this old man it was very evident that a possessor
+of ivory commanded very much respect.
+
+Bositi had smuggled an old Tower musket across the border and knew where
+to get powder. He promised himself an elephant with larger tusks than
+those displayed by his rival.
+
+Presently there was a stir. The Chief was coming! The orchestra struck
+up energetically; the Fool twirled rapidly round on one foot; the
+hangers-on crouched and shaded their faces as from the rising sun; the
+long row of visitors bent forward until their foreheads touched the
+sand; the guards fell upon one knee and all clapped their hands.
+
+Bositi literally buried his face in the sand; a little got into his
+right eye and annoyed him for days to come.
+
+The Chief moved towards the Council House, preceded by a number of body
+servants, one of whom pointed with a long stick to imaginary stumps and
+stones over which his lord and master, if not warned, might trip.
+
+Another carried the Chief's chair. This chair was strongly made on the
+European pattern. The seat of it was covered with the hide of a Sable
+antelope, from which constant use had worn much of the hair. A rude face
+was carved on the bar which supports the sitter's back. To this face men
+do reverence when the Chief is not in his chair.
+
+A third man beat with two small drum-sticks upon a large harmonica,
+which was suspended by a bark rope from his neck.
+
+Another carried a green umbrella, not open, because the Chief himself
+had a smaller one in his own hand.
+
+The sight of the Chief filled Bositi with awe. He paid no attention to
+the crowd of councillors following in the footsteps of the august
+personage. He felt that his own finery, which had been much admired by
+the common herd, was really very mean.
+
+For the Chief had on a grey top hat with a wide black band to it. He
+wore a long magenta dressing gown, which fell open as he strode forward,
+disclosing a pair of pepper and salt trousers. On his feet he had a
+magnificent--in Bositi's eyes--pair of new bright yellow boots. In his
+free hand he carried an eland's tail fitted as a fly-whisk, with an
+ivory and ebony handle.
+
+In spite of his absurd clothes the Chief had a certain air of dignity.
+He was heavily built and stooped slightly at the shoulders with age; his
+small beard was tinged with grey.
+
+He stepped along firmly, however, and Bositi noticed with jealousy that
+his eyes lit up as they rested for a moment on the two great tusks of
+ivory brought by the old man.
+
+The Chief entered the Council House and sat down. Immediately all
+present raised their hands and shouted a salutation with such good will
+that the orchestra was not heard for a space. The Court Fool hopped
+round with renewed energy. The official Praiser shouted:
+
+  The great lion!
+  The bull elephant!
+  The thunderer!
+  The greatest of all lions!
+
+The salutations died down and the orchestra came to its own again.
+
+There is no hurry in a native Council House. The band played out its
+selection and the Court Fool continued to gyrate. One by one the
+Councillors took their seats in the Chamber. This was a lengthy
+business: each man in turn seated himself on the ground before the Chief
+and clapped his hands and bowed several times; then, collecting his
+skirts round him, he moved in a crouching position to his accustomed
+seat.
+
+At length quiet prevailed. One by one the visitors were marshalled
+forward to present their gifts and state their case--if they had one to
+state.
+
+Many trivial matters were discussed and trumpery gifts bestowed upon the
+Chief, when it came to the turn of the old man with the ivory.
+
+"Who is this who brings ivory?" asked the Chief.
+
+"It is Moyo of the Rivoswe country," someone volunteered.
+
+"Oh, the man who is said to have broken our laws. See, he brings two
+tusks and they are large ones."
+
+"Yes, the tusks he brings are large ones," remarked several of those in
+the Council House.
+
+"Who accuses this man of law-breaking?" demanded the Chief.
+
+There was no reply. All knew their master's weakness for ivory.
+
+The Chief addressed Moyo: "Tell me, old man, what mischief was in your
+heart when last you left my village?"
+
+Moyo pointed to the tusks. "I went to hunt elephants for the Chief. For
+long I hunted before I killed. When I had killed, I brought my ivory to
+my Chief. I am no law-breaker. Is it against the law for the Chief's
+slave to hunt elephants for the Chief?"
+
+"If," answered the Chief, "to bring me ivory is to break the law, let
+many break it. Who accused this man?"
+
+As no answer was forthcoming, the Chief accepted the ivory.
+
+As a matter of fact this old man Moyo had been very troublesome in days
+gone by. He had refused to pay the annual tribute of honey, corn and
+skins, and had driven away the tax-gatherers sent to collect. Now,
+realising that he was getting on in years, he thought it wise to make
+his peace. No one ventured to remind the Chief of these things in view
+of the offering of two goodly tusks. Moyo was permitted to go to his
+home in peace; it was, however, plainly hinted to him that ivory would
+not save his skin if again he thought fit to defy the Chief's authority.
+
+At length Bositi's turn came. "Who is this slave?" asked the Chief.
+
+Someone spoke for him. "He comes with a small gift. He has been working
+for many years for the white man."
+
+"Is this the fellow who has been making the white man's stemala?"
+
+(By "stemala" the Chief meant railway, probably an attempt at the word
+"steamers.")
+
+"Yes, Chief," said Bositi, "I have been making stemalas."
+
+"Can you make good stemalas?"
+
+"Yes, Chief, I can make them. I have been helping the white man to make
+them for many years."
+
+"What does the white man use stemalas for?"
+
+"To carry goods too heavy for a man to carry, and to travel distances
+more quickly and greater than a man can travel."
+
+"Could you build a stemala for me?"
+
+Without hesitation Bositi declared he could build a railway for the
+Chief if he were provided with the necessary men to help him and a few
+axes and adzes for felling and shaping the timber.
+
+"Is not the stemala made of iron?" inquired the Chief.
+
+"Yes, the white man uses iron from his country where it is found in
+pieces as long and as straight as a palm tree. He has no big trees in
+his country. In the Chief's country iron is only found in little pieces,
+but the trees are large and long."
+
+"If you make a good stemala for me you shall be the headman of your
+village and the induna of your district. The axes and the adzes shall be
+given to you. Go and make a stemala for me; go quickly and make the
+stemala quickly."
+
+"I will go, but the Chief must know that a stemala is a big thing to
+make. Many men and many days are wanted for its making."
+
+"It is well; I understand," said the Chief. Then turning to one of his
+principal advisers, he directed him to see that Bositi had all the men
+and all the tools he required.
+
+That night much fuss was made over Bositi who was to become the headman
+of his village and the induna of his district--when he had made a
+railway for his Chief.
+
+As for Bositi, he talked big things and adopted the manner of a big man,
+bearing himself as if his railway were already built and he installed in
+his high position.
+
+In due course were settled such small details as where the railway was
+to be built, how many men were required, and what tools would be wanted
+from the Chief's store.
+
+At length the party set out. Bositi was the most important member of it.
+Next, and with authority in some respects even greater than his, was the
+Chief's representative. This man had power to requisition slave labour
+in the Chief's name and free food from the villages near to the seat of
+operations.
+
+The spot chosen for the railway was some two hundred miles from the
+Chief's village. This was fortunate for Bositi, for the distance freed
+him from too much tiresome supervision. It was on the main river where
+free navigation is interrupted by a waterfall of considerable size and a
+series of formidable rapids. For centuries travellers had been content
+to drag their canoes overland round these obstacles. The going was very
+heavy as the soil was loose and sandy. The railway was to save this
+labour. Canoes were to be put on the rails above the falls and so
+transported to the quiet water below. A more useful railway, from the
+natives' point of view, could not have been planned.
+
+I was shown over the works by Bositi himself in the early days of
+construction, before those difficult problems arose which sooner or
+later confront all who "bite off more than they can chew."
+
+If Bositi had paid strict attention to business and had attached that
+importance to details which details have a way of demanding, I think his
+railway would have been a success. But this is too much to expect of any
+native.
+
+He began well.
+
+I found firmly fixed to the ground by means of stout wooden pegs half a
+dozen well-made wooden rails. Much labour had been expended on these,
+for they were cut from large trees. They were perfectly straight and set
+in true parallel. Resting on the rails were two pairs of wheels: each
+pair was linked together by a heavy axle bar, rounded at either
+extremity to permit the wheels to turn freely, but squared between the
+wheels. The wheels, which were secured to the axle by wooden pins, were
+shaped like cotton reels: that is, they were doubly flanged in order to
+keep them from slipping off the rails.
+
+Bositi ordered his men to put a long, heavy log across the axle of the
+two pairs of wheels and proudly pushed it backwards and forwards along
+the short length of line, some sixty feet.
+
+He explained that when the work was finished it would be necessary only
+to place a canoe, fully loaded, across the axles and push it along.
+
+I asked him how many months he had been at work on the construction. He
+said six. I pointed out that as the distance to be covered by the rails
+was some three miles, it would be forty years and more before the
+railway was ready for use. In the meantime, what about the ravages of
+the white ant?
+
+Bositi appeared hurt but not discouraged. I think he put my criticism
+down to the natural jealousy which a white man would feel upon finding
+that a native is not incapable of great things.
+
+He explained that the work had required some planning out, that the
+local people had been slow to respond to the calls made upon them by the
+Chief's representative for food and labour, and that the rains had
+hindered progress.
+
+I admitted that these were difficulties which required time to overcome,
+and asked to be shown his working camp.
+
+Bositi led me some distance into the forest. Here I saw a number of men
+busy with tiny native adzes upon some felled trees, shaping them into
+wooden rails. In very few instances were the rails in the making as
+straight as those already laid. It was clear to me that the wheels would
+somehow have to negotiate very awkward turns and twists in the line, and
+I wondered how they would do it.
+
+By no amount of questioning and patient explanation could I get Bositi
+to see the difficulty which lay ahead of him, so I presently continued
+my journey, encouraged by the promise that when next I passed that way
+with my canoes I should enjoy a ride on the wooden railway.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That section of the Cape to Cairo railway was never finished. I
+inspected the abandoned line many months later and found, as I had
+expected, that the white ants had eaten the rails almost as quickly as
+they were laid. I also saw that less trouble had been taken in making
+them. The trees from which they were cut were crooked, so here the rails
+widened, there they narrowed. Here there was a hump, there a depression.
+
+I made it my business to find out what had become of Bositi. He had not
+been made a headman of his village nor an induna of his district; but,
+having failed in his undertaking and squandered all his substance, he
+had gone south again to live the careless life of the railway camp,
+where, under the hand of the white man, difficulties seem to disappear
+as quickly as the morning mist before the rising sun.
+
+
+
+
+THE LICENSED VICTUALLER.
+
+
+John Smith was an up-country caterer in a remote part of Africa. We
+called him Joseph, after other shining lights in the trade.
+
+I don't think I ever saw him quite sober, but, on the other hand, never
+heard of his being drunk. He was not good to look at, being fat, bald
+and red-faced.
+
+A stranger once called him Joe. Our host was indignant at the
+familiarity, and snapped: "I'm Joe to me pals, John Smith to me
+acquaintances, Mr. Smith to you, damn you!" Coming across to my table,
+he winked heavily, and said in a hoarse stage-whisper: "P'raps you've
+'eard a bloke say that afore?"
+
+I admitted I had.
+
+"Come in nice and 'andy, tho'," said Joe.
+
+Joe's place of business was a frame house with walls of canvas. He had
+named it the "Duke of York's Restuarant." The spelling was his; so, too,
+was the sign-writing.
+
+He was a man of uncertain temper. One day a hungry guest asked for more
+beef. Joe thought this unreasonable, and thus addressed the man:
+
+"Yore twist do give yer nerve. 'Ere, tike the bloomin' lot!" With that
+he hurled the round of beef full at the hungry man's head; it missed him
+and passed out through the canvas wall. Joe glared at his damaged
+property for a space, and then in a loud voice made it known to the rest
+of us that "Beef's off."
+
+On another occasion a boarder declined to partake of a doubtful-looking
+meat concoction which Joe declared was "frickerdells."
+
+"Wot, yer don't like 'em, don't yer?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Won't eat 'em, won't yer?"
+
+"No."
+
+We all held our breath, wondering what manner of assault Joe would
+select for this reckless fellow.
+
+But Joe grinned, actually grinned, and replied: "I don't blame yer; I
+wot makes 'em wouldn't touch 'em; no, not for a fortune."
+
+One Saturday afternoon I happened to be passing through the yard when
+Joe was discussing with his handy-man, Sammy, the Sunday lunch. (Sammy
+was an Indian, and in Africa all Indians are "Sammy" to all men.)
+
+"'Ow many dead chickens are there, Sammy?"
+
+"Fourteen, Boss."
+
+"'Ell! 'Ow many died yesterday and 'ow many did yer find dead this
+mornin'?"
+
+"Eight yesterday and six to-day, Boss."
+
+"Well, we'll curry the eight and roast the six."
+
+On Sunday I refused curry and roast fowl. Joe asked why. I told him.
+
+"Blokes wot 'ang around the cook-'ouse door 'ears things an' sees things
+o' times wot puts 'em off their grub. 'Ave some bully?"
+
+I did.
+
+Joe seldom had enough waiters, and what he had were mostly black men,
+quite untrained. I remember one white waiter who answered to the name of
+William. In our eyes he had many faults--in Joe's, but one. He would
+talk to the customers, stand and talk instead of attending to wants.
+
+Joe warned him repeatedly, but his warnings were lost on William.
+
+One day Joe lost his temper. "Look 'ere, you snip, wot 'ave I told yer?
+Wot 'ave I kep' on tellin' yer? You'd talk the 'ind leg off a mule!
+You'r hat it agen. 'Ere, quit. Sling yer 'ook out o' this. I'm bloomin'
+well fed up with yer."
+
+William blinked at Joe during this harangue, and then quietly asked: "Do
+I understand you to mean, Joe, that I'm sacked?"
+
+"Yes," said Joe, "I sack yer. Come to the till for yer pay."
+
+"Do you mean," pursued William, "that I am a free man?"
+
+"You are," said Joe.
+
+William turned and looked up and down the crowded tables. He then walked
+quietly to an empty seat and sat down, bawling:
+
+"Joe, bring me a plate o' beef; look sharp, I'm in a hurry."
+
+As Joe's business grew (and it did grow in spite of Joe), the waiting
+became too much for him. He had so many guests that he couldn't get them
+served quickly enough to please himself, or them. This man wanted one
+thing, that another, and a third something else; all called their wants
+loudly and together.
+
+Joe's remedy was, I believe, original. Sharp at one o'clock he had each
+place set round with generous helpings of all the dishes for the day.
+You would find a plate piled with roast beef, greens and potatoes; a
+second equally full of cold pork, potatoes and spring onions; a third
+with hashed mutton and potatoes; a fourth with hot suet pudding
+plentifully smeared with treacle; half a loaf of bread on a fifth, and
+so on. To one arriving a little late, this spectacle was far from
+appetising. One knife and fork and one spoon had to do duty for the lot.
+
+Most people ate what they wanted and left the rest. Once a guest
+protested that he could not eat everything set before him. Joe was hurt.
+"'Oo the 'ell arst yer to?" he thundered savagely. "It won't cost yer no
+more, nor no less, either way."
+
+Just inside the "restuarant" door there stood what Joe described as a
+"wash-and-brush-up-nice-and-'andy." It was his claim that he catered for
+the "better clarse." The "wash-and-brush-up" consisted of a tin basin on
+an empty upturned whisky case. The water was usually dirty; the towel,
+suspended from a roller, was always so; the soap was a long bar of "blue
+mottled." Dangling from a piece of string, tied to a nail driven into
+the wooden framework of the wall, was a tooth-brush. Heaven knows where
+Joe got it from; it was by no means new. He had never used one himself.
+When I questioned him on the subject of this "fitting," he said: "Some
+people uses 'em. Like as not I should be arst for one quick enough if I
+didn't have one. Best to tie it to the 'ouse, or some bloke 'ud lift
+it."
+
+Someone once asked for a table napkin. Joe was puzzled, and looked
+searchingly at the man. He suspected a "leg-pull."
+
+"What for?" he demanded.
+
+The man explained.
+
+"Oh, it's a servy-yet yer want, is it? Ain't got any! You wait till
+the railway comes, then we'll get all manner o' things--servy-yets,
+toothpicks, and suchlike. Don't be unreasonable; you ain't in a
+drawin'-room now, yer know."
+
+When the railway did come, Joe sold his business for much money and went
+North. The sight of a starched collar and a tie in his "restuarant" was
+a sign for him that civilisation had reached his very door. Joe didn't
+like civilisation, and hated "torfs." He had been known to remark: "The
+sight of a bloke in a boiled shirt makes me sick."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the spot once occupied by Joe's eating house now stands a large hotel
+built of stone, with a bathroom leading out of every bedroom.
+
+
+
+
+THE JOHNNIE-COME-LATELY.
+
+
+William Blake walked quietly into the bar of the Tantani Hotel. It was
+obvious to all that he had not been out from England long, because his
+clothes were so new and clean. Besides, he bore the self-conscious air
+which is an unmistakeable sign.
+
+All the men who crowded the bar wore reach-me-downs; or, if their
+clothes had been made in England, it was very, very long ago.
+
+William knew the barman, who had been at Eton with his elder brother.
+Men find strange jobs in Africa in the process of reaching their proper
+level. I must add that in course of time that same barman bought the
+bar--and many other things besides--and ultimately represented his
+district on the Legislative Council.
+
+At the moment of William's entry the barman was busy, so the youngster
+edged his way in between the wall and the brawny back of a corduroyed
+transport-rider, intending to wait quietly until he could catch the
+barman's eye.
+
+The place was thick with the fumes of strong drink and tobacco
+smoke--Boer tobacco smoke. Of all the unlovely habits which men acquire,
+that of smoking Boer tobacco is the most trying to other people. I
+know, because I used to smoke it once, and I have seen it empty an
+Underground railway carriage at every station.
+
+But William did not smoke, neither did he drink strong drink; he merely
+wanted to have a talk to the man his brother fagged for. But, on
+reaching the bar, he unintentionally jogged the transport-rider's arm
+and spilt some of his liquor.
+
+"Who the hell are you shovin'?"
+
+"Sorry."
+
+"Sorry, are you? Yer bloomin' tailor's model."
+
+The barman's chief asset was a quick ear and a keen sense of rising
+trouble. He was at the end of the counter in a moment.
+
+"Hullo, Bill. Upset Rogers' drink, have you? Well, both have a drink at
+my expense. This boy is a friend of mine, Rogers."
+
+"Well, Jimmy, as he's a friend of yours I'll overlook the accident--and
+I will. Mine's a gin and tonic; what's the boy goin' to drink?"
+
+Before William could explain that he didn't drink, the barman said: "I
+know his poison, don't I, Bill?" following this up with a heavy wink.
+
+"Mr. John Rogers--Mr. William Blake."
+
+"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Blake. Put it here."
+
+The pair shook hands.
+
+The barman pushed two glasses forward--one, containing gin, towards
+Rogers, and the other, lime-juice, for Blake. He took something out a
+bottle under the counter for himself, gave Rogers a small tonic, and
+split a small soda with William.
+
+"Here's fun," said Rogers.
+
+"Chin, chin," said Jimmy the barman.
+
+The boy nodded gravely at each. They drank.
+
+"Come on, let's have another," said Rogers. "Same as before for me, but
+not quite so much of your bloomin' tonic, Jimmy. Spoils the gin."
+
+No sooner were the drinks poured out than the barman hurried away to
+attend to the calls at the other end of the counter, so the two were
+left to themselves.
+
+"What are you drinkin', might I ask?"
+
+"Lime-juice and soda," said William.
+
+"Just what I thought. Now, my young friend, it won't do. Didn't you see
+the train come in to-day?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"Don't you? Well, isn't this the very first train to get here from the
+South?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, ain't you goin' to get drunk on it?"
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+Rogers stepped back and looked the boy up and down. Then----
+
+"What will you bet?"
+
+William didn't answer. The transport-rider knocked over the lime-juice
+and placed his gin in front of the boy.
+
+"Drink that."
+
+"No, I won't."
+
+"Yer won't?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I'll give you three chances and no more."
+
+With that Rogers drew a heavy revolver from his coat pocket.
+
+"Drink! One!"
+
+"No."
+
+"Drink! Two!"
+
+"No."
+
+"Drink! Three!"
+
+"No, I won't drink it."
+
+Rogers stared at the boy for a moment and then put the revolver back in
+his pocket again.
+
+"I like you. You've got grit. Drink rot-gut if you like, it ain't any
+business of mine. Here, take these."
+
+"These" were a bundle of Standard Bank notes tied up with a piece of
+string. William edged close to the wall.
+
+"Here, you take 'em; they're fivers. Got paid for a job to-day, but I
+like you, so you've got to have 'em."
+
+"I don't want your money."
+
+"Neither do I. Take 'em."
+
+"No."
+
+"What? You don't drink and you won't take good money?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I'll give you three chances, and this time I'll shoot."
+
+"Take 'em! One!"
+
+"No."
+
+"Take 'em! Two!"
+
+"No."
+
+"Take 'em before I say three!"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well then, no one shall have 'em." And with that Rogers flung the
+bundle out of the door into the darkness. Then he bent his head upon
+his crossed arms and sobbed.
+
+Jimmy seemed to be watching, for he lifted a flap in the bar counter,
+went outside the door, and returned almost immediately, stuffing the
+bundle into his pocket.
+
+"Don't mind him, William."
+
+Then to Rogers, "What about your drink?"
+
+The transport-rider stood up.
+
+"Did you see the train, Jimmy?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Ain't nobody drunk?"
+
+"Not very."
+
+"The train's in and nobody drunk? I'll get drunk. I will get drunk."
+
+And with that he danced round and round the bar waving his glass. "The
+train! The train! The train!" ... Crash!
+
+Everyone turned round. John Rogers, transport-rider of Tantani, had
+fallen, and lay on the floor insensible.
+
+"Rogers drunk?" came in a chorus of incredulity from all quarters. No
+one stooped to examine him; perhaps because few besides William and the
+barman felt it quite safe to stoop. Then several of his fellows pushed
+him under a seat with their feet, and turned to the bar again.
+
+"Poor old Rogers," they said, "who would have thought it? Must be
+breaking up. Used to keep goin' for days together without turnin' a
+hair. Poor old blighter. Train's taken his transport-ridin' away from
+him. Yes, that's what's upset him."
+
+But William met Rogers next morning, quite himself again.
+
+"Morning, boy."
+
+"Good morning."
+
+"Jimmy gave me my money back."
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Have you got a job?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Looking for one?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, come my next journey with me. I'll go on the strict t.t. I'll
+show you some good shooting, too, and I want a hefty young man to help
+me with my cattle. Jimmy told me he thought you'd come. I want you to
+come."
+
+William went, and a partnership sprang up which resulted in profit to
+both.
+
+Rogers and Blake own that large cattle ranch just beyond Belingwe.
+Rogers must be nearly seventy now, and is still hale and hearty.
+
+
+
+
+THE LOST RUBIES.
+
+
+If you asked a South African mining man, no doubt he would tell you that
+there are no rubies in Africa. He would be wrong.
+
+To my knowledge two very large ones have been found. One of them I have
+seen. The other I have heard about. Take my word for it, there are many
+rubies in Africa. I will go so far as to tell you where. I hope you will
+go and look for them, and, what is more, find them.
+
+The rubies of which I write are to be found on the banks of the Zambesi,
+somewhere below the Victoria Falls. If I could give more exact details,
+I wouldn't do it: I should go and look for them myself.
+
+As I said before, I know they are there, because I have actually held
+one in my hand. The man who showed it to me told me it was a ruby. I
+believed him, of course. I had reason to. But just to make sure, I
+placed it between two half-crowns, put the precious sandwich on a flat
+slab of granite, and gave it a severe twisting under my heel.
+
+My silver suffered. I did manage to pass those half-crowns off on
+someone, but I felt a criminal.
+
+Now this old man who showed the ruby to me looked a very old man
+indeed. He was a Scotsman. His long beard was only slightly red,
+otherwise it was white. To be quite accurate, I suppose I should say he
+had a long white beard tinged with pink. At least, so it seemed to me
+the first time I saw it and him.
+
+It is just twenty-five years ago that the old man came to my camp on the
+Zambesi, some forty-five miles above the Victoria Falls.
+
+Quite apart from his beard he was obviously old. His legs were thin. He
+hobbled from rheumatism. His cheeks were hollow, and how very thin his
+ears were! I remember his ears quite well, they were almost transparent
+and his hands--well, they were just claws.
+
+This poor old man came to me for three things.
+
+One. Could I mend a shot-gun? I had a look at the dingy old weapon and
+admitted that it was quite beyond me. It was a double-barrelled shot-gun
+with four good inches gone from the right barrel, one from the left, and
+the rib of metal which should join the two was curled back for a good
+ten inches.
+
+He explained that he had tried to shoot a king-fisher and his gun
+exploded. He suggested that a mouse must have crept up the barrel during
+the night.
+
+Perhaps one had.
+
+I, personally, should have said that the gun was suffering from the same
+complaint as its owner--old age.
+
+Well, I couldn't help him in the matter of the gun, so what was the next
+thing?
+
+Had I a drop of good Scotch? Yes, by Jingo, I had, and very welcome the
+poor old fellow was to it.
+
+I gave him a good dose of his native medicine, which seemed to put back
+the clock of time for him at least a couple of dozen years.
+
+And the third thing?
+
+Oh, yes, the third thing. He began:--
+
+"You see, I am an old man. I'm an honest man, oh yes, quite honest. I
+don't lie like the others."
+
+He paused and looked out of the door of my tent.
+
+"The other two are bad."
+
+I don't attempt to reproduce his accent or the queer, querulous way he
+had of talking, because I can't. He was an old Scotsman, so you may fill
+in the local colour for yourself.
+
+"I want to tell you something."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You won't give me away?"
+
+"No, of course not."
+
+"You won't tell the other two?"
+
+"Certainly not, but who are the other two?"
+
+The old man looked out of the tent again and quickly back at me. He
+placed his finger alongside his nose and winked. Then he said in a loud
+voice: "I must be going. Thanks for the drink. No, I won't have another.
+It's getting late and my pals will be anxious."
+
+Through his talk I heard an approaching footstep.
+
+The old man backed out of my tent and I followed him. Within a few yards
+of us was another man approaching hurriedly. He looked anxiously from me
+to the old Scotsman and back again.
+
+He stopped and, addressing the old, old man, said: "What are you doing
+here?"
+
+This annoyed me. I was on the point of asking very sharply what he
+wanted, anyway, when the expression of both made me pause.
+
+On the old man's face, fear; on the newcomer's, anger, suspicion, greed,
+cruelty--a bad face of a bad man.
+
+My curiosity was aroused; I answered the question.
+
+"Your friend has been having a drink with me. Won't you have one?"
+
+"No, I will not." Then, by way of an afterthought: "No, thank you very
+much." And the fellow smiled with his ugly mouth, but not with his eyes.
+
+The intruder, as I now regarded him, seemed in a hurry to be gone.
+
+"The canoe boys are waiting for us and we must go. Come along,
+Macdonald."
+
+The old man turned his face towards me and, as he said good-bye, I saw a
+great fear in his eyes.
+
+Ignoring the other, I begged him to stay the night and promised to try
+my best to mend his gun. He shook his head and turned slowly away.
+
+The ugly man hurried him along towards the bank of the river and helped
+him into the canoe. I felt there was something wrong but didn't see how
+I could interfere.
+
+As the pair pushed off from the bank, the other man turned round and
+shot a searching look at me. What could the mystery be? That thick-set,
+black-haired little devil was up to no good. He looked as if could
+murder the old man, me, or anyone else, if necessary.
+
+I saw nothing of them next day, but my natives told me that there were
+three white men with a waggon camped on the other side. I sent a boy
+across to spy out the land, but he came back with no information of any
+real importance.
+
+On the third day I felt so uneasy about the old man that I half made up
+my mind to cross the river to see him. I was prevented from doing so by
+the arrival at my camp of the veriest pair of ruffians I ever clapped
+eyes on.
+
+As they walked up from the river I had time to study them. And a pair of
+arrant scoundrels they looked.
+
+The man who had already paid me one visit was talking rapidly to a fat,
+unhealthy-looking fellow who seemed to feel mere walking an excessive
+exertion, for he puffed, stooped, and walked awkwardly.
+
+The stranger wore a waistcoat but no coat. His braces, which were red,
+hung untidily on either side; he had forgotten to slip them over his
+shoulders when putting on his waistcoat.
+
+When they reached my tent I offered them chairs. The fat man sank into
+one, his thick-set companion stood.
+
+It was the latter who talked. The other mopped his perspiring forehead
+with a blue cotton handkerchief, and seemed capable only of saying:
+"That is so; yes, yes," in support of his companion's rapid talk.
+
+It soon became obvious that this precious pair wanted to know exactly
+what the old man had told me three days before. As he had told me
+nothing, it was easy to answer them.
+
+"How did I find the old man?"
+
+"Just that he seemed very old, much too old to be at the Zambesi at his
+time of life."
+
+"Didn't I find him lightheaded?"
+
+"On the contrary, quite normal."
+
+"Hadn't he spun me some queer yarns?"
+
+"No; just told me of his gun and his accident with it."
+
+"Well, as a matter of fact, he was off his head, and I really mustn't
+believe all he said. Oh dear, he had kept them both in fits of laughter
+on the road up with his queer notions. Stories of gold mines and
+suchlike nonsense. Hadn't he talked of that kind of thing?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, he was now in bed with a go of fever and talking queerer than
+usual. Yes, if I could spare it, they'd like some quinine for him; but
+they had better be going, for it wasn't playing the game to leave an old
+man for long who had the fever on him."
+
+The pair got up to go.
+
+I disliked them both, especially the fat one, who looked to me like a
+city-bred parasite--a barman, bookmaker, tobacconist's assistant, or
+something of that sort. They glanced round them and hesitated, evidently
+expecting to be asked to drink with me. I would sooner have gone "three
+out" of a bottle of beer with a couple of hogs.
+
+Presently they went off, evidently much relieved to find I knew nothing.
+
+I was now determined to know all, and quickly; but how to get hold of
+the old man alone again was the difficulty.
+
+As I sat in my chair thinking, I recollected a remark let fall by the
+boy I sent to spy upon them: "The fat one drank much Kaffir beer, which
+he bought from the natives who lived on the north bank of the river."
+
+I sent a messenger to the headman of the village with an order to make
+much beer, pots and pots of it, and take it new and half-fermented to
+the white men on the other side. I instructed the headman to sell it
+cheaply, and said that I would make up the difference.
+
+In due course I had my reward. The old Scotsman came over and told me
+one of his companions was in great pain and the other was trying to ease
+the pain by rubbing fat on his belly, that he himself had got away
+unnoticed, and now wanted to tell me all about "it."
+
+I was naturally all anxiety to hear what "it" was all about, and made
+the old man sit down.
+
+Now why is it, I wonder, that old men can't come quickly to the point?
+Much to my annoyance, he wasted a good half an hour telling me what
+scamps the other two were; how he felt sure that, given half a chance,
+they would "do him in" but not until they had got from him his secret.
+Tell them? Not on your life!
+
+But he would tell me; oh yes, he would tell me. Ever seen a ruby? No,
+not out of a ring? Well, I should see one now and hold it in my hand. A
+large one, fit for a king. And he would tell me where to find more.
+Hundreds of them. The other two had brought him up to the Zambesi just
+to find out where the rubies were. But he wasn't going to tell them, not
+he. They were too darned stingy with the whisky bottle; besides, they
+wouldn't sign a paper on it. A man who wouldn't sign a paper on a deal
+was up to no good--didn't intend to play fair. Now what did I think they
+should pay him for showing them where the ruby mine was? Would a couple
+of hundred be a fair thing?
+
+And so on, and on, and on.
+
+I gave him the best advice I could, which amounted to a warning not to
+trust his companions.
+
+Then he showed me the ruby, which he carried in a small blue medicine
+bottle marked "fever mixture."
+
+I knew precious little about rubies, and told him so. It was then that I
+tried it between the two half-crowns.
+
+Having satisfied myself that it was a very hard stone, even if it
+weren't a ruby, I gave it back to him, and he returned it to its bottle.
+
+He then told me that, many years before, he had been travelling in
+company with a Jesuit Father along the banks of the Zambesi. That just
+below the village of a native, whose name for the moment he could not
+remember, he had found the rubies. One he had kept and the other he had
+given to the priest, who told him he was going home to France shortly
+and would find out whether the stone was worth anything or not. If it
+had value, he would sell it and go halves.
+
+They went down south together, and parted company at Grahamstown. A year
+later he was sent for by the manager of the Bank and told that £480 had
+been remitted to him by the Reverend Father.
+
+The money came in handy, and for one reason or another he didn't bother
+about going all the way up to the Zambesi to get more rubies. He also
+got married and settled down in Bechuanaland on a farm.
+
+But his wife had lately died. His two daughters were married, and his
+son was killed in the Matabeleland rebellion. Then he lost all his
+cattle by rinderpest.
+
+So he left the farm and went to Bulawayo. He didn't know anyone there,
+but took up with his two companions, met them in a bar, told them about
+the ruby and showed it to them. A Jew had assured them that the stone
+was a ruby right enough, and had, he believed, put up some cash for
+their outfit and journey.
+
+But they wouldn't sign a paper, and were up to no good. He had come up
+to the Zambesi--felt he had to. It was hard to make money nowadays.
+
+"But I'll tell you all about it," he said, "and where the mine is, so
+that, if these fellows do me in, you can get the stones. They shan't
+have them. You know where the Gwai River runs into the Zambesi?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, it's not quite so far down--Listen! Did you hear that?"
+
+"No, what?"
+
+"That calling for help. There it is again."
+
+We went to the tent door and looked towards the river. In midstream we
+could see a canoe bottom up. One white man was sitting astride at one
+end, and there was a native at the other. A second white man was
+swimming for the bank.
+
+I ran down to the landing stage, calling my canoe boys as I went. For
+the moment I forgot all about my visitor. There was a white man in the
+water and, scamp though he undoubtedly was, I couldn't let him drown.
+
+My boys and I got him ashore. It was the thickset one. His fat,
+unhealthy-looking companion was floating down the river astride the
+upturned canoe.
+
+After landing the one, I sent my boys back for the other. They had had a
+thorough wetting and the city-bred fellow was very much scared.
+
+I had their clothes dried and then sent them back to their camp in my
+own canoe. It appears that an angry hippopotamus attacked them.
+
+All this time I had little time to think about old Macdonald. I asked my
+people about him and they told me that he had slipped away and crossed
+in a canoe to the white man's camp whilst the other men's clothes were
+being dried.
+
+Not a word was said about the Kaffir beer. If the pair of villains were
+coming across the river to me for assistance or medicine when the
+accident happened, they forgot to mention the fact in the excitement of
+the moment and after.
+
+Next day they were gone--all three of them, ruby and all. And I never
+saw any of them again. But I did see in a Bulawayo paper, which reached
+me later, the following announcement:
+
+     "At the Memorial Hospital, Bulawayo, John Macdonald, died of
+     blackwater fever. Funeral (Hendrix and Sons) starting from the
+     Hospital at 3.30 this afternoon."
+
+So I repeat there are rubies in Africa, somewhere on the banks of the
+Zambesi, below the Falls, but north of where the Gwai river makes its
+junction. If you decide to go and look for them, good luck to you!
+
+
+
+
+THE CATTLE KING.
+
+
+Schiller was a cattle trader by profession, and he made a lot of money.
+
+He was incidentally a Jew by birth, an Austrian by accident, a
+hairdresser by training, and a soldier of fortune when occasion offered.
+He was quite illiterate.
+
+Although he could neither read nor write he yet kept accurate enough
+accounts of all his many transactions with the natives. He once showed
+me his accounts. They consisted of notches on tally sticks. I couldn't
+make head or tail of them, but Schiller knew to a shilling how much each
+ox had cost him and how many cattle he had.
+
+One Sunday morning he came over to my bungalow and told me all the
+gossip of the country-side. Incidentally he remarked that my hair wanted
+cutting, and asked if he might have the pleasure of operating.
+
+I thanked him and sat down.
+
+To my amazement he produced from a little black bag all the implements
+of the trade, including a pink print sheet which he proceeded to tuck in
+round my neck.
+
+His touch was unmistakable.
+
+"Aren't you a professional?"
+
+"Yes, sir, from ---- of Bond Street."
+
+From that day on, twice a month if I was at home, this man who was worth
+at least twenty thousand pounds cut my hair for sixpence.
+
+He called himself the "Cattle King."
+
+I first met him when he made application for a cattle trading licence at
+my office: this was many years ago.
+
+As, in those days, we could issue or withhold a licence at discretion, I
+questioned Schiller closely.
+
+He didn't look like the ordinary Jew. By that I mean he hadn't a
+pronounced nose: on the contrary, it was small and snubby. He told me he
+was a Jew, I should not have guessed it.
+
+He wore a long row of medal ribbons and, in support of his claim to
+them, produced discharge papers from every irregular force raised in
+Africa during the last twenty years.
+
+I read the papers carefully and could but conclude that the little man
+who applied for a licence was a confirmed fire-eater and a very gallant
+soldier.
+
+No camp follower he. His medals were earned and at the cost of not a few
+wounds. I later saw these honourable scars.
+
+I gave him his licence and asked him to sign an undertaking designed to
+control certain undesirable activities in which it was just possible he
+might wish to indulge.
+
+He couldn't write his name. A large X with a few unnecessary blots
+thrown in adorned the record of his promise. He never broke his word: in
+fact that man's word was his bond in the truest sense.
+
+I have always found that an illiterate man is a much more rapid learner
+than one who keeps a note book. The one relies upon his memory and so
+strengthens it; the other discourages it by admitting its limitations.
+
+He learnt the local dialect rapidly, and his pronunciation was quite
+good. This gave him advantage over his rival traders.
+
+Natives like to hear their language spoken by a white man, and, as
+Schiller was a fluent talker, his company was much sought after.
+
+He was a trading genius. Anything he had for sale soon became the rage
+with the large native population. He got to know most of the great
+ladies of the land. Knowing that great ladies, be they white or black,
+set the fashions, he persuaded them to patronise his store and accept
+long credit.
+
+If this particular pattern of print did not generally commend itself to
+the community, one of the important dames would shortly appear draped in
+yards of it. If that coloured bead did not sell freely, a personage in
+the Chief's household would soon be seen wearing string after string of
+it.
+
+But it was cattle he wanted, and cattle he got. So large did his herd of
+fine beasts become that the Chief himself grew jealous, and issued a
+warning to his people not to sell too freely.
+
+Still the herd increased. The man dealt more fairly with the people than
+the other traders, and, moreover, did not make the mistake of getting
+upon too familiar terms with his customers.
+
+During my absence on a tour of inspection a crisis arose. The Chief
+forbade his people to have any further dealings with the Cattle King.
+
+Schiller counted his gains, branded his cattle, and sent them south to
+the rail-head for sale. Then he closed his store.
+
+Just at this time a number of waggons arrived bearing many cases and
+bales of new goods for him. These were off-loaded, unpacked, and
+disappeared into the closed store.
+
+Then Schiller made a hatch in the store door not unlike that of a
+railway booking-office. He left the shutter ajar, but piled up goods in
+front of all the windows. Black noses in plenty gathered against the
+panes, but goods--goods everywhere--blocked a view of the interior of
+the store.
+
+Through the hatch Schiller could be seen mysteriously occupied. He had a
+chequered board in front of him with many little discs of wood upon it.
+He sat with eyes fixed on the board, and from time to time moved a disc.
+
+He told all inquirers that his store had been closed by orders of the
+Chief, and that he himself was very busy.
+
+News of the trader's preoccupation spread about. Was he making medicine
+with which to harm the people? Surely not; he was a kind little man.
+
+Was he communicating in some strange way with the absent Commissioner?
+That might be; better make sure.
+
+The Chief became uneasy. At last he sent his principal headman to
+inquire.
+
+This headman had received some education at the Mission school, so he
+wrote a polite letter to warn the trader of his coming.
+
+     SIR,
+
+     My greetings to the honest man the merchant. I hope you have slept
+     well I am telling you that I have not seen you for a long time and
+     it is my intention of coming to see how you get on. I am well and
+     my wife is well. Now I must close my letter.
+
+                              Your friend,
+                                                            GONYE.
+
+The envelope bore the address:
+
+                      Mr. Shiler, Esq.,
+                                  The Merchant.
+
+The letter was duly delivered at the hatch. Schiller pretended to read
+it and said there was no answer.
+
+As a rule he brought his letters to be read by my native clerk, but I
+had taken him with me on my tour.
+
+If the Cattle King was surprised when the headman pushed open the hatch
+shutter and looked in, he did not show it.
+
+He glanced up from his draught-board impatiently, frowned at the
+interruption, and turned to the game again. He was playing self versus
+self, and self was giving self no end of a tussle.
+
+"Good-day to you, Merchant."
+
+"Good-day, Gonye."
+
+"I hope you have slept well?"
+
+"Yes, and you?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I have slept very well, thank you, Merchant."
+
+Silence fell upon the pair, and the game of self _v._ self proceeded.
+
+"Huff you for not taking me here," muttered Schiller.
+
+"Crown me, please," replied Schiller.
+
+"What are you doing, honest man?" asked Gonye.
+
+"Yes," replied the merchant abstractedly.
+
+"You do not trade now, Merchant."
+
+"No, your Chief has closed my store."
+
+"Will you tell the Commissioner?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"What will he do?"
+
+"The Chief and you will know what he will do when he does it."
+
+"What are you doing now, honest man?" asked Gonye, and added--"May I
+come in?"
+
+"Yes, if you don't talk or touch the goods."
+
+The trader got up and let the native in, but returned to his game
+without ceremony.
+
+Gonye walked round the piled-up counters and inspected the well-filled
+shelves. Here were goods indeed. Goods worth many head of cattle.
+Blankets, coloured print, calico, brass wire, beads, shirts, hats,
+coats, sugar, jam, tobacco, pipes, knives, looking-glasses, mouth
+organs, and goodness knows what besides.
+
+Seeing all these nice new things created many wants in the headman's
+heart. But the Chief had closed the store.
+
+Gonye wandered back to where the trader sat and watched him.
+
+With a shout of triumph, self beat self by two kings. Schiller
+rearranged the board for another contest.
+
+"Is it a game?" asked Gonye.
+
+"Yes, it's a game."
+
+"Is it a very hard game?"
+
+"Very hard."
+
+"Did it take you long to learn?"
+
+"Years and years."
+
+"Could I learn it?"
+
+The trader sat back in his chair and looked fixedly at the native. "You
+might," he said.
+
+"Will you teach me?"
+
+"I will try to; bring up that chair and sit down."
+
+The rest of the afternoon was spent by Schiller initiating Gonye into
+the mysteries of draughts.
+
+Next day the native came again.
+
+"I think I can play now, Merchant."
+
+"Do you? Well, you take black and I will play with white."
+
+Schiller won, with a loss of scarcely a man.
+
+"Try again, Gonye."
+
+Schiller played a cunning game, so the native made a slightly better
+showing next time. The third game he did better still. The fourth game
+he won.
+
+That was the only game of draughts he ever did win against the trader.
+In his triumph the headman persuaded the Chief to declare the store
+reopened. The merchant was a good man. He was indeed an honest man. His
+cattle kraal was empty. What would they say to the Commissioner on his
+return? The trader would of course complain. Moreover, the store was
+full of very nice goods.
+
+The next morning the store was opened and the natives flocked to it with
+their cattle. Schiller did a great trade, and bought more cattle in a
+week than all the other traders combined had done in three months.
+
+Gonye felt rather sore as the merchant declared that he was now too busy
+trading to play draughts. However, Schiller, who was no fool, made his
+position of Cattle King secure by presenting the board and men to Gonye.
+
+The last I heard of Schiller was at the outbreak of the Great War. He
+had joined the Force which set out to take German South-West Africa.
+
+
+
+
+PARTNERS.
+
+
+Jack Fernie and William Black became partners in the usually pleasant
+business of seeing something of the world.
+
+What the two men had in common was little enough so far as I could
+discover. They appeared to meet on the common ground of boots--uncommon
+boots.
+
+Fernie hated wet feet. He argued that if water got in over the top of
+the boot, the foot remained damp all day, which was bad for you. So he
+punched holes through the leather of the uppers, all round, just where
+it bends in to meet the soles. He explained that since water must find
+its own level, it will run out of your boots as readily as it will run
+in, if given a fair chance.
+
+Black went in constant dread of developing an ingrowing toenail, so he
+wore boots with two compartments inside, one for the big toe and the
+other for the rest. They were very ugly, clumsy boots, but Black
+declared that they were a sure preventive and very comfortable.
+
+These two strange creatures were never tired of discussing each other's
+boots.
+
+Now Fernie had been second officer on board a liner. On the way home
+from India he had said unrepeatable things to a parson. When he arrived
+in London his directors sent for him, scolded him severely, and
+dismissed him from their service.
+
+When I got to know Fernie well, I asked him what all the trouble had
+been about. He was not very communicative; he merely said that he could
+no more abide a black coat than he could a black cat. With that he
+changed the subject, and I had to be content.
+
+Black had slaved as a clerk in the City for thirty-five years and
+doubtless would have remained one for the rest of his natural life had
+not an old lady, no relation of his, left him in her will a sum of money
+which provided him with an income of between six and seven hundred a
+year. There was no mention of the why and the wherefore in the will, and
+Black declared that he couldn't imagine why she did him this good turn.
+
+It appears that Fernie and Black first met in Bulawayo. How, exactly, I
+don't know. They had bought a donkey-waggon and set out for the Zambesi
+river, which they crossed at a place called Kazungula, some forty-five
+miles above the Victoria Falls.
+
+Their introduction to me was a curious one. Fernie walked into my camp
+one day, followed by Black. He said: "Are you the magistrate of these
+parts?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, will you sell us up?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"You see, we're partners, Black and I. We don't get on as such and want
+to dissolve. Isn't that so, Black?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"So we want you to sell us up; sell our outfit as it stands--waggon,
+donkeys, and everything else we've got. Don't we, Black?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But," I said, "who do you expect to buy in a place like this? There
+isn't a white man within a couple of hundred miles. I'm not buying
+donkeys, and the natives can't."
+
+"That's all right," said Fernie. "I will do all the bidding, and you can
+divide the proceeds between us."
+
+"Yes," said Black, "that's what we want you to do."
+
+Of course, I agreed to help and asked them to set out the things for
+sale.
+
+When everything was ready, Black handed to me a list, neatly written and
+ruled with two money columns, one headed "Cost Price" and the other
+"Sale Price."
+
+I had never acted as auctioneer before, but that didn't matter; entering
+into the spirit of the thing, I began.
+
+"Gentlemen, I have here as fine a span of donkeys and as sound a waggon
+as ever came north of the Zambesi----"
+
+But Fernie cut me short with: "A hundred and sixty pounds."
+
+I looked at the list. In the cost-price column, against the item "span
+of donkeys and a waggon" was set £160.
+
+I got no fun out of the sale at all. Fernie bought everything, bidding
+cost price for everything. The total, I think, came to just three
+hundred pounds.
+
+"Black, I owe you a hundred and fifty, and here you are."
+
+Black took the bundle of notes, counted them with practised finger and
+thumb, nodded, and handed a receipt to Fernie. The queer pair then
+shook hands, grinned at each other sheepishly, and thanked me for
+settling their little difference.
+
+The three of us had lunch together, and during the meal Fernie told me
+as much of their story as he thought fit.
+
+It appears that on their way up to the Zambesi friction arose between
+them; nothing serious, but just enough to make them feel a little tired
+of one another's company. Fernie considered that he should boss the
+outfit; Black wanted a say in matters, too. In Black's opinion Fernie
+was too dictatorial. Fernie thought that Black butted in too much and
+always unnecessarily--fatuously. So they sat down one day and discussed
+the situation calmly and decided that Fernie should buy Black's share
+and that Black should become a passenger, paying Fernie so much weekly.
+
+This arrangement was so simple and complete that I wondered why it was
+necessary to bring me into the matter at all. I suspect it was the
+ex-clerk's passion for regularity and record, for immediately after the
+sale he had drawn up a formal statement of dissolution of partnership.
+When he and Fernie had signed this document, they asked me to
+countersign it.
+
+After luncheon we sat for a while discussing guns and rifles. By we, I
+mean Fernie and I, for Black possessed no firearms of any sort and
+appeared to take little interest in them.
+
+Fernie set so much store by the Martini-Henry rifle and the old hammer
+shot-gun that I correctly guessed these made up his battery. Presently
+he produced the weapons for my opinion.
+
+The shot-gun had been a good one in its far-off day, but the spring of
+the right-hand lock had gone, so only the left barrel was serviceable.
+The Martini was so old and the rifling so worn that I wondered how
+Fernie ever hit anything at which he aimed. But he did. He said he had
+got to know the old gas-pipe.
+
+That evening the pair left me and went North.
+
+From time to time I came across these men; now and again one or the
+other wrote to me; later, their waggon boys told me much; I gathered
+more from the natives of the district in which they aimlessly wandered;
+finally, Black's sister entrusted her brother's diary to me. The entries
+in this book were made in shorthand. I had the whole transcribed. I told
+her I had lost the book; I lied. I have the book still. She died
+peacefully without an inkling of its contents.
+
+From these various sources of information I have put together a few
+yarns, which I now tell for the first time. For instance, there was a
+curious adventure with a lion.
+
+Fernie had been out shooting most of the day: shooting for the pot, as
+the party had been without meat for some time. Black, as usual, remained
+in camp writing up his diary. He also mended a boot.
+
+He concluded that Fernie was having very good sport because of the
+number of shots he fired during the afternoon. With an inexperienced man
+like Fernie, armed with a rifle such as his, it was not wise to jump at
+conclusions.
+
+Late in the evening Fernie came back to camp very hot and tired. He was
+evidently in a bad temper, for when Black asked him if he would like
+some tea, he rudely said: "Tea, you bloomin' grandmother," and opened a
+bottle of whisky.
+
+Then he called the driver and said he wanted a couple of donkeys to
+bring in the meat of a hartebeest which he had killed. The driver
+brought two and followed Fernie into the bush. They didn't return until
+eleven o'clock at night. Black had become anxious as time went on. He
+heard Fernie shooting again at about ten o'clock and wondered how he
+could see to take aim in the dark. He had, of course, never heard of the
+common practice of firing a shot in the air if you are not quite sure of
+your whereabouts and then listening for a guiding shot from the camp.
+
+It wouldn't have helped much if he had known, for he had never fired a
+gun in his life. It did not occur to the second waggon boy, who had also
+remained in camp, to ask Black why he didn't reply to the signals of
+distress; he very naturally concluded that Black did not do so for
+reasons of his own, not through ignorance or inability.
+
+It is only fair to Black to say that Fernie had not previously heard of
+this manner of signalling either. The waggon boy put him up to it when
+they thought they were lost.
+
+At eleven o'clock the wanderers found their way back to camp. Fernie was
+in a worse temper than ever.
+
+"Why the hell didn't you answer my shots?"
+
+"Your shots?"
+
+"Is the fellow deaf as well as a brainless idiot?"
+
+"I did hear you shooting, but I thought you had come across some more
+hartebeest."
+
+"How the devil do you suppose I could see to shoot in this pitch
+darkness?"
+
+"I don't know; I wondered."
+
+"Oh, so you wondered, did you?"
+
+"Well, what did you want me to do?"
+
+"Sing, or any damn thing. But how could an ex-ink-slinger be expected to
+have any horse-sense to do anything requiring a glimmer of intelligence?
+Oh, don't talk; of course, it's not your fault, it's your Maker's."
+
+Black felt keenly the coarse injustice of this attack and sat silently
+looking into the fire. The truth of the matter was that Fernie had lost
+his way. He couldn't find the dead hartebeest. He cursed the waggon boy
+for a fool, which he wasn't; and beat him, which he didn't deserve.
+
+"Off-load those chunks of meat near the fire and get to hell out of
+this," said Fernie roughly to the waggon boy. The fellow relieved the
+donkeys of their load and slouched away.
+
+Black looked up. "You're tired, Fernie. Won't you have some supper?"
+
+Fernie, who was making a pile of the hartebeest meat, turned with an
+angry jerk towards the speaker. Something in Black's attitude brought
+him sharply to his senses and saved him from adding fresh insult to
+those already thrown at his friend.
+
+Instead, he said: "I'm sorry, Black old man. I'm a beast and we both
+know it. I take back all I said; please forget it. And I must give that
+driver fellow a tot of whisky; I hit him, which was a rotten thing to
+do, because he can't hit me back, and I, not he, was wrong."
+
+It certainly was a rotten thing to do. Fernie was a big-boned, powerful
+man, with a fist like a leg of mutton in size. He hardly knew his
+strength, but many a troublesome seaman could have testified to it in
+the old liner days.
+
+However, the tot of neat whisky put matters more or less right with the
+boy.
+
+Black pressed Fernie to have a good square meal, but he wouldn't. He
+drank half a glass of raw whisky, followed by about a gallon of water.
+Then he put down his blankets and turned in, his head towards the pile
+of meat and his feet to the fire. Completely exhausted, he fell asleep
+immediately.
+
+It had become a habit with Fernie to place his loaded shot-gun by his
+side when he went to sleep, and he invariably had a large spanner handy.
+He did not forget to make these preparations now, tired though he was.
+He made them mechanically.
+
+Black, who remained by the fire, put on his spectacles and wrote up his
+diary. Then he too put down his blankets, close to where Fernie lay.
+
+He didn't go to sleep at once. In spite of his apology, Fernie's words
+had left a sting. This had been his worst outbreak so far. He had never
+used the contemptuous epithet "ex-ink-slinger" before. Because of its
+truth it hurt.
+
+So Black lay on his back watching the sparks rise from the fire at his
+feet. He was indeed seeing the world, but he began to doubt whether he
+had chosen exactly the best parts of it or the most pleasant way of
+seeing them.
+
+No unkind thought of Fernie ever entered his mind. I think I can safely
+say this, for his very full diary contains no hint of such. On the
+contrary, a strong thread of deep admiration and affection for his
+friend can be traced without a break through every page of that strange
+book.
+
+Presently there was a slight movement behind the pile of meat. Black
+turned slowly over on his side and looked. To his great alarm he saw a
+large lion smelling the meat. He put out his hand and touched Fernie,
+who woke at once, sat up, and looked. However uncertain the sailor's
+temper might be, his nerve was still good. He snatched up his gun. As he
+did so, the lion made a short backward jump and glared at the men,
+growling. Fernie put the gun to his shoulder and pressed the trigger.
+There was no report! He had forgotten the broken spring. Why he did not
+fire the left barrel remains a mystery. Instead, he gripped the gun
+about the trigger guard with his left hand, pressed the stock firmly to
+his shoulder, and aimed a sharp blow at the hammer with his spanner. He
+missed the hammer, but hit his thumb.
+
+"Gentle, jumping Johnson!" he hissed through his clenched teeth. "The
+devil take the blighted thing and chew it!"
+
+With that he flung the spanner at the beast, and disregarding the blood
+spurting from his crushed thumb, fired the left barrel after the lion,
+which had bounded away into the darkness.
+
+It was many days before that thumb healed.
+
+I don't suppose that at the beginning of their partnership Fernie knew
+much or any more about firearms than Black did. It is probable that both
+were equally ignorant. This does not appear from the diary, but then
+allowance must be made for Black's deep admiration of Fernie and all he
+did.
+
+Of course, Fernie had travelled much and, thanks to his training at sea,
+took more quickly to strange conditions and new things than Black. By
+dint of perseverance and the expenditure of much ammunition, he managed
+to keep the camp supplied with meat, but in those days game was thick
+upon the ground.
+
+It is probable that if the job of keeping the larder full had been
+handed over to the driver of the donkey waggon, all would have fared
+better.
+
+It is on record that under Fernie's tuition Black once tried his hand at
+shooting at a target. I say once advisedly, for he tried but once.
+
+The rifle he used was, of course, Fernie's old Martini. The target was
+the bleached skull of an ox that they found by the roadside.
+
+After showing his pupil how to hold the rifle, how to aim, and the use
+of sights, Fernie gave Black a handful of cartridges and walked off to
+set up the target.
+
+Black was bubbling over with suppressed excitement. His heart beat
+rapidly. His mouth felt unaccountably dry. He almost made up his mind to
+borrow the rifle that very afternoon and go out and look for a buck. He
+pictured himself soon taking turn and turn about with Fernie in keeping
+the pot going.
+
+With an effort he ceased building castles, pulled himself together, and
+mentally repeated Fernie's instruction on the rifle. He determined to
+acquit himself creditably.
+
+Fernie had meanwhile set up the target about fifty yards away, and had
+moved to what he considered a safe distance. He now shouted to Black to
+have a shot, adding: "Don't be afraid of the darned thing, it won't hurt
+you. Besides, it doesn't matter if you do miss the first shot or two."
+
+Black clenched his teeth, put the rifle to his shoulder, and aimed at
+the skull.
+
+The rifle wobbled.
+
+He was most anxious to make a good beginning.
+
+The rifle went on wobbling.
+
+He held his breath.
+
+The rifle wobbled more.
+
+He held his breath until his lungs nearly burst. Then, I'm afraid, he
+shut his eyes and pulled the trigger in desperation.
+
+Goodness knows where the bullet went to. Fernie declared that it passed
+just over his head.
+
+But Black? He threw the rifle on the ground and rubbed his collar-bone
+and chin. His spectacles fell off. From where Fernie stood it looked as
+if he might be swearing.
+
+"What's the matter? Have another shot," shouted Fernie, as he walked
+towards his friend.
+
+"Nothing much the matter, but I don't want another shot. It hurts too
+much, and you said it wouldn't."
+
+"Hurt? Nonsense! Slip in another cartridge."
+
+"I won't."
+
+Fernie picked up the rifle and began to wipe off the dust with his hand.
+"Hulloa! What on earth have you done to the thing?"
+
+"Done to it?"
+
+"Why yes; this bulge in the barrel."
+
+"Did I do that?"
+
+"Well, it wasn't like that before."
+
+"Wasn't it?"
+
+"Why no. And where's my plug?"
+
+"Your what?"
+
+"The plug of wood I had in the barrel. Good Heavens! You don't mean to
+say that you fired the thing off with the plug in it?"
+
+"I don't know anything about plugs. You gave me the rifle to fire and I
+fired it. My neck hurts, and I'm going back to the waggon."
+
+There must have been good metal in that old rifle, or it would surely
+have exploded. About an inch from the end of the barrel was a bulge as
+large as a hen's egg.
+
+One adventure is fully recorded in the diary.
+
+Fernie shot a reedbuck. Rain had fallen during the afternoon, so,
+following the example of the waggon boys, the white men had taken the
+roof from a deserted native hut, propped it up with a pole, and had made
+their beds under it.
+
+Fernie put the reedbuck meat on the raised eaves of the hut roof to be
+out of the reach of stray night marauders, such as hyenas, jackals, or
+native dogs.
+
+After his experience with the lion, he had discarded the damaged
+shot-gun in favour of the more serviceable rifle as a means of
+protection by night.
+
+In due course the two men went to bed and both fell asleep.
+
+Their awakening was as sudden as it was unusual. Something fell heavily
+on Fernie's chest. Still half-asleep, he hit out instinctively. His fist
+came in violent contact with hairy ribs. A beast grunted and scrambled
+away.
+
+Meanwhile Black had received a leg of the reedbuck on his head and was
+pushing the clammy thing from him.
+
+It appears that a hyena had crept up between the sleeping men, had
+sprung at the meat piled on the upturned roof, had misjudged the
+distance, and had fallen back in a heap upon Fernie. In its ineffectual
+attempt to carry off the meat it had dislodged a piece, which fell upon
+Black.
+
+The friends re-made their beds, replenished the fire, and Black turned
+in again. Fernie, determined to get a shot at the hyena, should it
+return, sat up, rifle in hand, and watched for some time.
+
+After a while he got tired of sitting up, so got back into his blankets
+again.
+
+For perhaps an hour he lay on his back, holding his rifle in his hand,
+the butt resting on his chest and the barrel pointing straight up into
+the sky. It was in those positions that Black remembered seeing man and
+weapon just before he slipped off to sleep.
+
+How long it was before Fernie went to sleep neither had means of
+knowing, but both awoke to the sound of Fernie's rifle.
+
+"What's up?" asked Black.
+
+"Blest if I know quite."
+
+"Did you see the hyena?"
+
+"I think so, I thought I did."
+
+"Do you think you hit him?"
+
+"I really don't know. I think I must have been dreaming. I believe I let
+off the rifle in my sleep and then dropped it. My jaw hurts, so does my
+shin--damnably."
+
+"Do you mean to say you fired the thing into the air?"
+
+"I expect so; why?"
+
+Black didn't wait to talk. He jumped up, pulled on his boots and bolted.
+As he ran he shouted: "Look out for the bullet!"
+
+"Come back, you silly ass!" called Fernie after him. But there was no
+reply.
+
+For a little while he could hear the shuffle of Black's unlaced boots as
+he hurried away, but not for long, as there was a wind blowing in the
+direction which Black had taken.
+
+From time to time Fernie called, but there was no reply. He became
+alarmed for his pal's safety, so got up and dressed. With a lantern in
+his hand he wandered here and there, hullooing.
+
+When it became light enough he called the waggon boys, and all went in
+search of Black.
+
+They hadn't very far to go. They saw him perched in a tree quite
+half-a-mile away. Fernie had to climb up and bring the poor fellow down
+as he was stiff with cold. He pick-a-backed him to the camp. A vigorous
+rubbing, a hot blanket, and a hotter whisky and water soon restored the
+patient.
+
+He had a curious story to tell.
+
+When he realised that Fernie had fired his rifle straight up into the
+air, he concluded that the bullet would sooner or later come straight
+down again. It might fall on him. Why run unnecessary risk? So he ran
+away. He thought he had time to pull on his boots, but no more. He
+intended to give the bullet ten minutes and then come back.
+
+He heard Fernie call to him, but he also heard a sound which made him
+run faster and still faster. It was the movement of some invisible wild
+beast trotting parallel and very close to him. He stopped once. It
+stopped. Scared out of his senses, he ran on, and so did It. By a stroke
+of good fortune he collided in his flight with a tree; instinct made him
+clamber up; he did it awkwardly.
+
+"It" jumped up at him as he climbed. Black, on the verge of exhaustion,
+continued to struggle frantically up the tree. He heard the crash of
+teeth as It's jaws came together within an inch of his leg. He felt It's
+hot breath on his flesh and a shiver ran down his spine.
+
+He drew up his leg as the beast jumped again. He felt the heel of his
+boot seized in the creature's jaws; felt the full weight of the thing at
+his hip-joint as his leg swung with the spring of the beast. He clung to
+the tree for dear life. Something gave way. He wondered how much of his
+leg had gone.
+
+Fortunately his loss was not so very serious; his boot had been wrenched
+from his foot--one of his patent two-compartment boots, and with it much
+skin from his toes.
+
+The waggon boys, who examined the spoor under the tree, declared it to
+be that of a hyena, probably the hyena which had tried to steal the
+meat.
+
+The boot was not recovered.
+
+Fernie really knew very little about shooting--of dangerous game he knew
+nothing. I don't suppose it would have made very much difference,
+because he was a reckless fellow, quite without fear.
+
+One afternoon he shot at a skulking beast and hit her in the stomach.
+This beast was a female leopard, three-quarters grown. She charged him.
+Fernie hadn't time to load again, so hit her with his fist. His heavy
+blow stopped her for a moment, but no more. She sprang again, and as she
+sprang she struck at him, half-scalping him, and scoring deep wounds in
+his stomach and thighs.
+
+Fernie roared like a mad thing. Dropping his rifle he grappled with her.
+She fought with the weapons Nature had given her; he, like savage man
+before the days of weapons. He spoke no word; the sounds he made came
+from the throat, not from the tongue--the raucous cries of a wild beast
+fighting for its life.
+
+Presently Fernie tripped and fell. They rolled over and over in the
+dust; he, half-blinded, searching for her throat; she, biting and
+tearing at his flesh. He lay on her and pressed her to the ground; thus
+he got his grip upon her throat and held on until the end.
+
+The end?
+
+Fernie had killed the leopard with his hands, had strangled her. But
+what of the man?
+
+A blinded, shredded thing, covered with blood and dust; his scalp
+hanging like a coarse fringe from his forehead to his chin; his clothes
+in tatters; gaping, welling wounds everywhere. This ruin of a strong
+man stood up, gave one long, loud roar of victory, and fell insensible.
+
+The waggon boys had heard the shot, they also heard that cry. Thinking
+their master had killed an antelope, they went towards the spot from
+whence they judged the cry had come. They found Fernie and the leopard
+lying side by side, and thought at first that both were dead. It would
+have been better so.
+
+But Fernie wasn't dead. His hold on life was much loosened, but not yet
+lost. For a day or two he lingered, and then he died. His agony was
+awful. He couldn't move; blood-poisoning set in; he knew he had to die,
+and hour by hour he begged his friend to shoot him.
+
+"Shoot me, Black. For the love of Heaven shoot. My God, I cannot stand
+it. Kill me, Black! Oh, do be quick, Black!"
+
+Hour after hour Black sat near his dying friend. He did little more than
+keep the flies away. He was helpless. He didn't know what to do. He had
+scarcely heard of first aid, and they possessed no medicines.
+
+One of the waggon boys searched me out and found me. I travelled day and
+night, but Fernie was dead when I arrived.
+
+After we had buried Fernie, I think Black was the most alone man in the
+whole world. For him there was nothing left. He had aged much during the
+few days of his friend's hopeless lingering. Whenever he looked at me
+the tears welled up and trickled from under the lower rim of his
+spectacles. He couldn't stop them, he no longer seemed to try.
+
+A man crying is not a thing for a man to see. I began to avoid him. I
+pleaded official duties, and hated myself for it. His obvious agony of
+grief became a burden to me. His whole being seemed to plead for help,
+and I didn't know how to give it; no one could give it.
+
+Just at that time the South African War broke out. I had official notice
+of it and told Black. His manner changed, changed with strange rapidity;
+I couldn't understand why. It did not occur to me that this helpless
+creature saw opportunity in that war; but he did, and he seized it.
+
+Next day Black said good-bye to me. He was almost cheerful. He was not
+the old Black. He seemed resolute, more a man, he moved briskly.
+
+I never saw him again. I learnt much of what happened from his diary,
+which his sister sent me; the rest from a chance acquaintance in Cape
+Town.
+
+He went south to Bulawayo; from there he travelled to Beira and shipped
+to Durban. In Durban he volunteered for active service, and was, of
+course, rejected by every recruiting officer.
+
+In the end, an enterprising newspaper man engaged him. He risked
+nothing, because Black asked for no pay. Black went to the front
+immediately, as an accredited war correspondent. What his articles would
+have been like I cannot imagine, but he didn't write any. His luck was
+in. The very day he arrived at Headquarters a stray bullet hit him in
+the forehead and dropped him dead.
+
+How strange it all was! A shot, fired from no one knows where and for no
+obvious reason, found its mark in the brain of a man who longed for
+death; probably the only man in South Africa at that moment who did long
+for death.
+
+
+
+
+THE LETTER HOME.
+
+
+I.
+
+"I and my people will pay the Government's tax, we have our money here,
+we pay willingly and in full; but the Barushu will not pay, they will
+fight the Government."
+
+Wrenshaw eyed the speaker angrily and replied: "The Barushu will pay.
+All will pay the Government tax and all will pay willingly and in full.
+Who are you to speak of fighting? Take your receipts and go. Tell all
+you meet by the way that the Barushu are paying the Government tax
+willingly and in full."
+
+"I will tell them, Morena," said the old native Chief as he rose to go.
+But there was no conviction in his tone, though his attitude towards the
+white man was respectful.
+
+Wrenshaw felt anxious. He had heard vague rumours that the Barushu, a
+large tribe living some twenty miles to the North, would refuse to pay
+the native tax. This would be awkward. It would have a bad effect on the
+rest of the tribes. He had been charged with preparing his district for
+the imposition of the tax. For two years he had worked hard and had then
+reported that all was in readiness to collect the tax for the first
+time. This was quite true of all the tribes of which he had control,
+save, perhaps, of the Barushu. They were a truculent people who had
+always threatened trouble, although they had never actually given any.
+
+His two Native Commissioners, who were busy receiving tax-money from
+another Chief, were puzzled to find that there were many more people in
+this particular community than the census papers showed.
+
+It was Wrenshaw who discovered the curious fraud which was being
+perpetrated by the Chief. It appeared that having met all demands of
+him, he deliberately invented names. When asked how it was that all
+these people had failed to have their names recorded on the census, he
+suggested that they must have been away from home at the time.
+
+At last the truth came out.
+
+"I pay willingly," said the old man; "willingly and in full, Morena. I
+have paid all the money I have to the Government because the Government
+asks for money. I am not a Barushu to refuse to pay. What does it matter
+how many people I have; does not the Government want money, and is it
+not right that I should give all I have to the Government?"
+
+"Old man," said Wrenshaw kindly, "take back your money. The Barushu will
+certainly pay. If, when all have paid, the Government still wants money,
+I will ask you for it. For this time you have done enough; you have paid
+willingly and well."
+
+Then, turning to his assistants, he directed them to cross out all the
+new and obviously fictitious names which they had just entered in the
+register and return the money paid in excess of the amount due. Later,
+and at their leisure, they could check the census, and if they found
+that any of the people really did exist, they could, of course, accept
+the money.
+
+As he was speaking a cattle-trader hurried up, panting. "There is a
+rising!" he shouted; "the Barushu are up. They have killed my partner
+and taken my cattle. They have beaten the police and will soon be here.
+Quick! Form a laager and let's get into it!"
+
+"Stop that, and go in there!" said Wrenshaw, pointing to his tent. To
+the officials who had been receiving the tax-money and issuing receipts
+he gave instructions to carry on.
+
+Entering the tent Wrenshaw asked: "What's your name?"
+
+"Wilkie."
+
+"Have they killed your partner?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What did they kill him with?"
+
+"I don't know; assegais, I suppose."
+
+"Then you didn't see them kill him?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Is he dead?"
+
+"I have told you that the Barushu are up, that they----"
+
+Wrenshaw interrupted the man: "Did you see his dead body?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then you don't know that he is dead. You say they have taken your
+cattle; how many?"
+
+"A hundred and fifty head."
+
+"Did they threaten to kill you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Did you do anything to prevent the Barushu from taking your cattle?"
+
+"How could I? I wasn't there."
+
+"Who was in charge of the cattle?"
+
+"My partner, Jones."
+
+"One more question: who told you that the Barushu had beaten the
+police?"
+
+"A native."
+
+"Did he also tell you that the Barushu had risen?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And that your partner had been killed and your cattle taken away?"
+
+"Well, not exactly; but----"
+
+"You're a silly scaremonger, spreading a yarn like this, and a cur to
+boot for deserting your partner! Get out of my camp; get out quickly; go
+South, go anywhere. I don't care where you go so long as you do go!"
+
+The man expostulated and threatened to report to Headquarters Wrenshaw's
+unmannered treatment of him. As the Commissioner took no more notice of
+him, he went off.
+
+But Wrenshaw was scanning the road which led towards the seat of the
+alleged trouble. Presently he stepped back into his tent, picked up his
+field-glasses and, returning, focussed them on a distant point of the
+road.
+
+What he saw perturbed him; he returned the glasses to his case and
+walked impatiently up and down before his tent. A runner was
+approaching, a Government messenger, he could tell that by his uniform.
+In his hand he bore a split reed with a letter slipped in it. His long
+Arab shirt was gathered up and tucked into his belt to give greater
+freedom in running.
+
+The messenger came along at that steady jog trot which enables the
+native to cover such surprising distances in Africa. On nearing Wrenshaw
+he dropped into a walk, approached the white man, saluted and handed him
+the letter.
+
+The envelope was addressed to the Commandant of the Police Force at
+Headquarters. Without hesitation the Commissioner tore it open and read
+as follows:
+
+                                      C.A.R. POLICE, MORA STATION.
+                                             "MONDAY, 26th JUNE, 19--.
+
+     SIR,
+
+     I have the honour to report that there is a native rising. This
+     p.m. I met a large crowd of them who behaved in such a queer way
+     that I thought it best to go back to camp, seeing that I had only
+     two police boys with me and they having no rifles and me only a few
+     rounds.
+
+     On the way back to camp I fell in with the trader Jones with a mob
+     of cattle, whose partner Wilkie has been killed by the natives and
+     he anxious to come into laager.
+
+     I am putting the camp in a state of defence with the help of the
+     said Jones and await orders.
+
+                                Your obedient servant,
+                                           JOSEPH WILSON,
+                                             Sergeant in Charge.
+
+So there was something in it after all. Wrenshaw went into his tent and
+wrote a reply to the Sergeant of Police:
+
+     To SERGEANT JOSEPH WILSON,
+
+     I have read your letter to the Commandant and will deal with it. Do
+     not worry overmuch about the rising, I will attend to that too.
+     Remain in camp or you might miss me, I am coming your way.
+
+                                               RICHARD WRENSHAW.
+
+After a short consultation with his juniors Wrenshaw issued his orders.
+
+He sent for his horse, told the interpreter to get his pony, and also to
+saddle-up and load a pack mule. The two Native Commissioners were to
+carry on as usual, accepting the tax from those who came to pay.
+
+It was nearly midday. He had to cover twenty miles by sundown. This was
+easy enough for himself and his interpreter, but he would also take his
+gunbearer and his cook. He believed in being comfortable, and saw no
+reason for roughing it now. The two on foot would have to hurry.
+
+
+II.
+
+It was after sundown when the party reached their destination. The cook
+had stubbed his toe against a root in the path.
+
+Taking advantage of the remaining light, Wrenshaw helped the interpreter
+to pitch the patrol tent. The cook collected wood for an all-night fire
+and then fetched water from the nearest stream half-a-mile away. The
+gunbearer cut coarse grass for bedding for the horses. Each servant had
+his job, which he performed with the precision born of long practice.
+
+The camping ground was well-chosen. In front was a level plain, probably
+a mile wide. After the first quarter of a mile it was very swampy; a
+single path led across it to the high ground which flanked the river
+beyond. Wrenshaw knew this path, he was probably the only living white
+man who did. The high ground was thickly covered with palm trees; behind
+the spot chosen for the camp was mile upon mile of thin forest.
+
+When bringing in his last load of grass the gunbearer stumbled over a
+native lying face downwards on the ground.
+
+He stirred him with his foot. "Now then, you, what do you want?"
+
+As he could get no satisfactory reply he brought the fellow to Wrenshaw,
+who asked who he was.
+
+"One of Nanzela's men, Morena."
+
+"Nanzela the Barushu?"
+
+"He is."
+
+"Where is he now?"
+
+"On the river bank."
+
+"With his people?"
+
+"With his people."
+
+"What are you doing here?"
+
+"I was on my way to join him when you arrived. I was afraid, and hid
+myself."
+
+"You may go to Nanzela and give him a message. Say that I have come.
+That I come because I hear Nanzela boasts. He says he will not pay the
+Government tax. That he asks for war. Tell him that if by sunrise
+to-morrow he does not come to me with tax-money in his hands, I shall
+come to him with a gun in mine."
+
+Whilst Wrenshaw had been speaking the native's eyes had wandered. He was
+making a mental note of the white man's forces. There was the white man
+himself--an unknown quantity--an alien black man in clothes who
+interpreted the white man's words, a native of a neighbouring tribe
+attending to two horses, and a half-caste busy with some cooking-pots at
+the fire. So far as he could see there were no more than these. He
+looked again at the white man and wondered what his real strength might
+be. However, it didn't matter, as by this time Nanzela had posted scouts
+on every path, and the police camp, some miles away, was being watched.
+The white man, too, would be watched.
+
+The sun had set, and it was now quite dark save for the camp fire which
+the cook had made. A mile away, on the high ground by the river, little
+points of light appeared. The Barushu were lighting their fires and
+preparing for the night. Judging by the distance on either hand to which
+these fires extended, the natives had assembled in some force.
+
+Presently the sound of a drum, then of another, then of many, reached
+the white man's ear.
+
+"What is that sound?"
+
+"I do not know, Morena."
+
+"Are they not drums?"
+
+"They are drums."
+
+"War drums?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"What is their message?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+The man, of course, lied; he could read their message as well as any
+other native of his tribe within earshot.
+
+"Go, give my message to Nanzela."
+
+The man turned to go, bidding the white man rest in peace.
+
+"Go safely," was the reply.
+
+Presently the cook announced "Dinner ready, sir," and Wrenshaw moved to
+the small camp table. The moment he sat down he felt he could not eat.
+He had decided on his lonely journey in the heat of the moment--of the
+midday sun, as it were; now that it was dark and cold, he wished he had
+brought one of his assistants with him.
+
+On second thoughts he was very glad he had come alone. If there was
+going to be trouble--and it looked uncommonly like it--a life might have
+been needlessly sacrificed.
+
+His cook aroused him from his mooning by: "Soup's cold, sir."
+
+"Well, take it away and bring something else! What is there?"
+
+"Guinea-fowl and some native peas, sir."
+
+"All right, and give me a drink."
+
+"Whisky or gin, sir?"
+
+"Whisky to-night; not much, just a little."
+
+After a drink Wrenshaw felt more settled and attacked the guinea-fowl.
+
+Presently he started up and walked a few paces from his camp and
+listened.
+
+His message must have reached Nanzela: a roar of distant laughter,
+followed by a hum of voices, arose from the encamped Barushu. Then the
+drums began again, but this time they beat to a song well known to
+Wrenshaw, a song to which natives dance.
+
+  Stop the pig and see where he will pass;
+  Stop him! Stop him! Stop him!
+
+That Nanzela should see in his message a huge joke slightly annoyed
+Wrenshaw, but he reflected that people with a sense of humour were more
+easily dealt with than those in a sullen mood. Yes, it was, perhaps, a
+ridiculous thing for him to have come alone on such an errand.
+
+He went back to his table and attacked the guinea-fowl once more, this
+time with vigour.
+
+After dinner he lit his pipe and ordered a large billy-can of coffee
+made very strong. He had a long night in front of him.
+
+He made no attempt to sleep; he wouldn't risk it. The Barushu had, in
+days gone by, a nasty habit of making a night attack. He didn't expect
+them to attack him, especially after their laughter; but he intended to
+take no risks.
+
+He had the fire piled up and saw that a plentiful supply of wood had
+been collected and placed handy. He told his natives to turn in, and
+walked across to where the horses were tethered. The animals seemed
+comfortable: one was lying down and the other standing with drooping
+head, dozing. He satisfied himself that their blankets were secure and
+that they had emptied their nosebags.
+
+Next he loaded his rifle and tied it lightly to the tent pole; he also
+loaded a double-barrelled horse-pistol, a twenty-bore, shooting large,
+leaden slugs; very handy for close quarters.
+
+Then he sat down and listened. The camp fires over the way were for the
+most part dying down. Wrenshaw had no illusions: he knew that he was
+being watched; by how many, he could not tell. It might be the intention
+of the Barushu to make a sudden end of him during the night. If he had
+brought a dog with him it would have given him timely warning; but,
+then, no dog can travel comfortably for twenty miles in the heat of the
+day without water.
+
+And supposing they did wipe him out, what then? His mind flew back to
+England. Would she care? He supposed she would; hoped she would. Well,
+no, not exactly hoped; that was hardly the word. But did she care? Did
+she care enough to make her home with him in this rough country?
+
+She certainly seemed sorry when he left England a few months before. Her
+letters, too, were a source of encouragement to him, for she dwelt upon
+the good times they had had together when he was on leave.
+
+He took her last letter from his pocket. "Dear Mr. Wrenshaw." How bald
+it looked to be sure. If only she had written "Dear Dick," or "My dear
+Dick," or.... However, she hadn't; but she did sign herself "Your
+friend." Into this simple signature Wrenshaw read a whole world of
+meaning, which, of course, might not have been intended; again, it
+might.
+
+By Jove! Why not write to her? It might be his last chance. Those fools
+on the high ground over the way might blot him out. He had his writing
+gear with him. He would write.
+
+He must, however, be careful what he wrote. No pathetic sort of last
+letter. No heroics of the penny novelette type. If he did go under,
+well, she would have the satisfaction of knowing that just before the
+event he had thought of her.
+
+Wrenshaw got some paper and an indelible pencil and began:
+
+     MY FRIEND...
+
+At this he stuck for a long time; what on earth could he write about?
+There were ten thousand things he wanted to say. Most of them he had no
+right to say because they were not engaged; there was not even an
+understanding between them. The remainder would give the show away; she
+would see that he was in danger, or, at any rate, in a tight place. He
+must write in some sort of general terms.
+
+This is what he wrote:
+
+     MY FRIEND,
+
+     I am on one of my journeys through the country; at this moment am
+     sitting by the light of my camp fire, writing.
+
+     I do not feel very sleepy to-night, some strong coffee which I
+     drank after dinner is keeping me awake.
+
+     The natives in the distance are beating their drums, which adds to
+     the mystery of the night. Their booming may mean a message sent by
+     the African equivalent to the telegraph or it may be that a cheery
+     dance is in progress miles away. Do you remember our last dance?
+
+     We are quite a small party here, only a couple of horses, a mule,
+     and three natives. I like to travel light in this way sometimes, it
+     gives one a sense of greater freedom, of independence.
+
+     To-morrow I continue my journey; until morning comes I shall not
+     know exactly in which direction I am to travel. All depends upon an
+     interesting meeting to which I have called the members of a curious
+     tribe. They may have arranged my journey for me.
+
+Wrenshaw read through what he had written and mentally condemned it for
+a stupid letter, a poor effort. What more was there to say? Plenty he
+wanted to say, but what more could he say? He couldn't add that he felt
+sleepy now and must go to bed, it would look so silly with that opening
+reference to the strong coffee. How should he end it?
+
+He settled the matter by saying that he would tell her all about his
+plans in the morning, and signed himself: "Your sincerest friend, D.W."
+He then addressed the envelope.
+
+Rising, he split a thin stick a few inches down its length, inserted the
+envelope, and made it fast with a twist of bark. Then he pressed the
+stick into the ground. The letter in its holder resembled a miniature
+notice board. If the natives did dispose of him, they wouldn't destroy
+the letter. The written message is sacred in Africa: some native would
+deliver it to some white man. In due course it would reach her, shortly
+after the news of his death, perhaps. If she cared, she would
+understand. If she didn't, she would vote it a dull letter.
+
+Rather ashamed of his weakness, Wrenshaw poured himself out another
+large mug of strong black coffee and returned to his lonely vigil.
+
+His three companions were sound asleep, snoring loudly. Of the three,
+the interpreter had most cause for concern, because he should have had
+some inkling of the position, but even he slept. The half-caste was a
+brainless fellow, albeit a good cook. The gunbearer didn't bother his
+head about matters which didn't appear to disturb his master.
+
+In the far distance a lion was roaring. A large green beetle hurried
+past Wrenshaw's feet in the direction of the fire. He picked it up and
+threw it far into the darkness; the insect somehow reminded him of
+himself.
+
+
+III.
+
+Just before dawn the gunbearer woke up feeling cold. He crept out of his
+blanket and to the fire, which had died down and was nearly out. On
+reaching the fire he saw his master sleeping in his chair without other
+covering than the clothes he had ridden in throughout the afternoon. The
+man quietly got his own blanket and gently spread it over his master's
+knees.
+
+Wrenshaw was wide awake in an instant. His hand shot out to his pistol,
+but, recognising his gunbearer, the movement was arrested. He accepted
+the attention; to have refused the grimy blanket would have been
+ungracious and have hurt the man; besides, he was chilled to the bone.
+He told the gunbearer to rake the fire together and throw on some more
+wood. There was still some coffee in the pot, and this he heated and
+drank.
+
+Feeling warmer, he got up and paced about to restore his circulation and
+get rid off his stiffness.
+
+So after all he had slept; well, he was glad he had, for now he felt
+rested and refreshed.
+
+He woke the interpreter and told him to feed the horses. The cook got up
+and took charge of the fire.
+
+Looking towards the other side of the plain he saw signs that the
+Barushu were also astir. The points of light twinkled at him across the
+intervening space.
+
+The sky in the east was becoming tinged with red. The silence was broken
+only by the sound of his animals munching their corn. This, slight as it
+was, woke a flock of guinea fowl roosting in some trees not far away;
+they began to exchange shrill greetings.
+
+As it became lighter he could see a thin ribbon of white mist suspended
+over the swamp. This did not interfere with his view of the high ground
+on which the Barushu had camped during the night, but he could
+distinguish nothing but the dark shadow of the palm trees and
+undergrowth. The light of the first was becoming rapidly paler as the
+day dawned.
+
+The gunbearer, who had the usual eyesight of uncivilised man, was the
+first to notice movement on the other side.
+
+"The Barushu are coming, Morena."
+
+"Good, many of them?"
+
+"Yes, many."
+
+Wrenshaw took his glasses and scanned the further edge of the swamp.
+Yes, there they came, in single file. He smiled as he noted the
+twistings of the secret path which they followed. On they came, a thin
+black stream fed constantly from the palm tree forest. Soon the head of
+the column disappeared in the stratum of mist which obscured the greater
+part of the swamp, but the stream of natives from the palm trees did not
+cease.
+
+Wrenshaw untied his rifle from the tent pole and put it and the horse
+pistol on his camp table. Then he pushed the table into the patrol tent
+and, placing his chair in the entrance, sat down. In this position he
+had only to stretch out his hand to reach his weapons if the necessity
+arose; in the meantime they were out of sight.
+
+Although he had been expecting for some time to see the first Barushu
+emerge from the mist, he was a little startled when he realised that the
+van of the oncoming column was within three hundred yards of him. The
+natives had left the secret path, but still moved in single file.
+
+By this time it was quite light.
+
+Wrenshaw took up his glasses again and examined his visitors. They were
+an ugly looking lot and quite naked. He presently became aware that
+there was something strange about them; what was it? Oh, of course,
+contrary to their custom, they carried no assegais. Well, that, at any
+rate, was a good sign.
+
+Then again, they were walking extraordinarily slowly. Marking time,
+obviously, until their fellows had crossed the swamp. On second thoughts
+Wrenshaw rejected that explanation. He kept his glasses fixed on the
+foremost man. The fellow appeared to be lame, lame in the right leg. He
+shifted his glasses. By Jingo, the whole lot were lame, all lame or
+stiff in the right leg.
+
+It was the gunbearer who solved the mystery.
+
+"Morena."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Why do the Barushu carry their assegais in their toes to-day?"
+
+"Why, indeed?"
+
+So the devils meant trouble after all. Stalking him, were they? He would
+make some of 'em smart for this.
+
+The white man took some cartridges from his pocket and placed them handy
+on the table. He glanced at his letter, which stood erect in its holder
+like a miniature notice-board.
+
+He looked at the dull-brained cook and felt sorry for him. His
+interpreter, who was standing, appeared to be feeling faint. The
+gunbearer was quite unperturbed.
+
+Close to a large dead tree, which stood alone in the plain about a
+hundred yards from where Wrenshaw was sitting, the leader halted and the
+Barushu began to bunch into knots, talking quietly. Wrenshaw didn't like
+the look of things. Something must be done, and done quickly. He must
+make the first move, and lose no time about it.
+
+"Go," he said to the interpreter, "and tell the Barushu that they may
+pile their assegais against that tree, and after that they may come
+forward and talk to me."
+
+"Morena, I am afraid."
+
+"So it seems, but what's the matter with your hands, with your coat?"
+
+The interpreter was terrified, and, which was worse, showed it. He
+fiddled with the buttons of his coat, doing them up, undoing them, and
+again doing them up. His pale, yellow face had become greenish, his eyes
+were rolling, and he seemed unable to stand still.
+
+This would never do. Even if the Barushu meant no mischief, such an
+exhibition of fear wasn't good for them.
+
+"Pick up that log," said Wrenshaw, pointing to a huge piece of wood
+collected overnight for the fire, "and hold it in your arms."
+
+The frightened man obeyed, he held the log as a woman does a baby.
+
+Wrenshaw turned to the gunbearer, "You go and tell them to stack their
+assegais and come forward to talk. Don't go too near them, shout from
+halfway. I have my rifle ready."
+
+If the Barushu made to kill his man he would open fire at once and get
+in a few shots before the end came.
+
+The gunbearer stepped forward. The Barushu watched his approach. A
+single man and unarmed. They could see that the white man was alone save
+for a Government servant in clothes; he, at any rate, was of no account.
+Then there was the half-caste at the fire; well, after all, what could
+two men do against so many? What was the trap? No, let this fellow come
+forward, they would wait and see what he was going to do.
+
+Halfway the gunbearer stopped and delivered his message in a loud voice
+that all could hear. Then he repeated it. No one heard his voice the
+third time, although he shouted lustily, for the Barushu broke into
+peals of laughter. "Oh, this white man, how cunning he is; so he has
+found us out and has spoilt our very good joke. Well, well, better do as
+we are told, put our assegais against the tree and hear what he is going
+to say to us. But it would have been very funny."
+
+Each man lifted his right foot, and removing his assegai from between
+his toes placed it against the dead tree.
+
+At length all the Barushu were seated, marshalled to their places by the
+imperturbable gunbearer. At a signal from Nanzela, who sat slightly in
+advance of his followers, a good two thousand men clapped their hands in
+greeting to the chief official of the District.
+
+So far, so good. Normal relations had been established. The usual formal
+inquiries concerning the well-being of each were put and answered.
+
+"Come nearer, Nanzela, and sit here," said Wrenshaw. "I wish to speak to
+you."
+
+Nanzela walked to the spot pointed out to him and sat down.
+
+"The time has come when all men pay the tax to the Government. Have you
+had warning of it?"
+
+"I have."
+
+"All the people are paying the tax willingly and well."
+
+Nanzela made no reply, but gazed at the speaker with an expression of
+indifference.
+
+Wrenshaw put his hand carelessly on the butt of his rifle and resumed.
+
+"There are but two paths for a man to travel, the one is towards peace,
+and the other to trouble, war."
+
+Nanzela blinked. He had not been able to see the white man's rifle from
+where he sat until called to come closer, nor had he noticed it before
+Wrenshaw's careless gesture drew his attention to it. His arms and those
+of his people were piled against the tree, and so, for the moment, out
+of reach. The white man's hand was on his rifle. All white men were good
+shots, and Wrenshaw had a reputation for being better than most. If he
+chose the wrong path now he would be the first to suffer. It would not
+be wise to run risks.
+
+"It is only a foolish man who seeks trouble."
+
+"Exactly," said Wrenshaw, "that is why all men are paying willingly and
+in full. I see you have your purse on your arm and have come to pay your
+tax." And again his hand caressed the butt of his rifle.
+
+Nanzela unbuckled an armlet which held his money.
+
+Turning to the interpreter Wrenshaw told him to put down the log, which
+he was still nursing, and get a book of tax receipt forms from the
+pack-saddle.
+
+Nanzela shook half-a-sovereign from his purse.
+
+The official made out a receipt for ten shillings, which he gave in
+exchange for the money. Then, raising his voice, he said: "Every man who
+has paid the tax must carry his tax-paper in a stick so that all may see
+that he has paid willingly and in full."
+
+The gunbearer cut a reed, slit it a few inches down its length, and
+offered it to Nanzela. The Chief slipped his tax-paper into the slit and
+bound the top with a shred of bark.
+
+How simple it all was! Now man after man came forward, paid his tax, and
+received in exchange a small square of coloured paper, which he slipped
+into a split reed, making it fast with a shred of bark. Their Chief had
+paid, they naturally followed his example.
+
+Wrenshaw had only one book of receipts with him; he had thrown it into
+the pack-saddle at the last moment. The book held one hundred forms, and
+these he had now used.
+
+Some of the men had no money with them, which was not to be wondered at,
+since they had come out looking for trouble and certainly with no
+intention of paying tax. He seized upon this as an excuse for collecting
+no more tax that day, and informed Nanzela that he would accompany him
+and his people back to the village and encamp there, so that each man
+might bring his money from his hut. He made no reference to the night
+spent on the high land near the river.
+
+The animals were saddled up and the interpreter sent back on his pony
+with a note calling upon the Native Commissioners to follow to Nanzela's
+village with all possible speed, bringing their census books, tax
+receipt forms, and the rest of their travelling office.
+
+A strange procession now formed. First walked the Chief with his
+assegai--recovered from the tree--in one hand and the tax-paper in the
+other. Then a body-guard of fully-armed men, some with and some without
+tax-papers. In the midst of these rode Wrenshaw, with his rifle gripped
+between his saddle and his thigh. Then followed the gunbearer leading
+the mule; the cook slouched along behind.
+
+The rear was brought up by the remainder of Nanzela's men, a few of whom
+had tax-papers, which they carried well in the air, much to the envy of
+those who had not yet paid. The little papers in the sticks appealed to
+the child-like fancy of these savages; taxpaying had become a game, a
+receipt in a stick, a toy.
+
+To say that Wrenshaw was much relieved is not to overstate the case. As
+he looked round him upon this mob of armed men eager to pay their tax
+and receive in exchange a piece of coloured paper, he realised better
+than anyone else could how tight a corner he had been in.
+
+His thoughts were disturbed by a commotion as the ranks parted and a man
+ran up to him with a letter in a stick; as the native held it up it
+resembled a miniature notice-board.
+
+Good heavens! It was his letter home; in the excitement of starting he
+had forgotten it. The man who brought it was one of Nanzela's people who
+had gone back to pick up anything which the white man or his servants
+might have left behind. He hoped, no doubt, to find a stray cartridge or
+two in the grass, or perhaps a spoon or a table knife.
+
+Wrenshaw did not remove the letter from the stick, but carried it as the
+natives did their tax-papers. The simple people became impatient to pay
+their tax; was not the white man also playing this new game?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The letter home was never sent. In place of it Wrenshaw despatched a
+brief account of his adventure, told in a very matter-of-fact way.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Over the mantelpiece of his den hangs a frame; in place of a picture it
+contains a letter in a stick which, at a short distance, looks like a
+miniature notice-board.
+
+
+
+
+THE DOCTOR.
+
+
+Those who go in search of trouble usually find it. They deserve no
+sympathy and seldom get any.
+
+The well-meaning man frequently meets with trouble too, although it is
+the one thing he doesn't want. When he is in difficulties, people pity
+him; they give him that pity which is akin to contempt, not to love.
+
+But Harry Warner was lucky. He most certainly went in search of trouble;
+he also meant well. His reward was unusual and quite out of proportion
+to the little good he did. He achieved immortal, if only local, fame.
+
+It was the natives who dubbed him "doctor." He wasn't one, he had no
+medical qualifications and little knowledge of medicine.
+
+But what do black people know or care about qualifications? Wasn't
+Warner always accessible? Did he not give medicine to all who asked for
+it, no matter what the disease might be? Did not some of those to whom
+he gave medicine recover? Had he ever asked anyone for payment?
+
+What a doctor!
+
+So the natives declared, and do still declare, that there never has
+been, never will be, never could be so great a doctor in their country
+as he.
+
+Now if Warner possessed no medical knowledge, he had the "goods." The
+goods consisted of a miscellaneous collection of superfluous drugs,
+plasters and pills, all a little stale, packed in an old whisky case and
+presented to him by a hospital orderly of his acquaintance.
+
+Warner watched the packing and asked questions.
+
+"Iodine, what's that for?"
+
+"Oh, sore throat, water on the knee, to stop vomiting, for fixing a
+gumboil, chilblains, and a host of other things. It's made from
+seaweed."
+
+"Do you drink it?"
+
+"Not in every case, not with housemaid's knee or sore throat, anyway.
+You paint it in the throat or on the knee. Here, we'd better put you in
+a camel's hairbrush."
+
+"Good. And what's nitrate of potash for?"
+
+"Well, if you have an inflamed eye, put a spot or two in this eye-cup,
+fill it up with water and blink into it--like this."
+
+"Thanks. And what do you use chlorodyne for?"
+
+"Bad pains in the stomach."
+
+"I see. And quinine is good for fever, of course."
+
+"Yes, that's right. Cover a sixpence with the powder, mix it with a
+little whisky, add a little water, and toss it off."
+
+"And corrosive sublimate?"
+
+"Oh, that's good stuff for washing wounds with, jolly good. Don't make
+it too strong or you'll burn the bottom out of the pot you mix it in,
+not to mention the wounded part. About one in ten thousand makes a
+useful solution if the water you use isn't too dirty."
+
+"I understand. And what is in this funny little box marked 'Sovereign
+Remedy'?"
+
+"Dash it all! That box belongs to my set of conjuring tricks. Can't
+think how it's got mixed up with this lot. But you may as well take it
+along; you might want to surprise the natives and you'll certainly do it
+with that."
+
+"How do you use it?"
+
+"It's all on the box, full directions."
+
+"And what's in all these pill boxes? Pills?"
+
+"Yes, pills."
+
+"But what are they all for?"
+
+"Bless the man! I haven't time to wade through the lot. Besides, you
+must know in a general way what pills are for. All the boxes have the
+dose on them. Now let's get a move on. Give a hand with the packing. I'm
+on duty in half an hour."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now we know just as much about doctoring as Warner did on the
+threshhold of his short medical career. Even a real doctor has much to
+learn before he reaches Harley Street; he picks up many wrinkles on the
+way and much improves with practice.
+
+
+THE SOVEREIGN REMEDY.
+
+Warner had travelled many miles from civilisation before his first
+patient came to him. The precious box of medicines had all along been
+kept handy on the waggon. From time to time he got it down, unpacked it,
+examined the labels, shook the bottles, and carefully repacked them.
+But, like a real doctor, he did not advertise. It isn't done.
+
+Somehow it did get about at last that he had a box of medicines. How, it
+doesn't really matter. The fact remains that a native came to the waggon
+one morning with a strip of bark tied tightly round his forehead,
+another round his chest, and a third round his belly.
+
+Warner, recognising a case, asked the native what the matter was.
+
+The boy replied: "I have much pain here and here and here," touching the
+bands of bark in downward succession.
+
+Warner, pleased at getting a patient at last, took the box of medicines
+from the waggon, opened it, took out the bottles one by one, and
+examined the labels with the eye of a master.
+
+"Iodine? No, that's for housemaid's knee, gumboils and that sort of
+thing. Corrosive sublimate? Wounds. Nitrate of potash? No, eyes. Why not
+a pill? Yes, a pill."
+
+But there were boxes and boxes of them. He picked up one after the
+other, but met with a check. Each box had on its label the name of its
+pill contents, followed by the words: "From one to three as ordered by
+the physician." In some cases: "From two to six." There was nothing
+about the complaint for which the pill might be used.
+
+Just a little difficult. Doctoring was not such an easy job after all.
+
+"What's this?"
+
+The gaudy label on a small box read:
+
+     Sovereign Remedy. Trick No. 10.
+
+     Never known to fail. Surprising in its effects.
+
+     _Directions:_--Borrow a sovereign. Request the lender to take a
+     seat. Ask him how he feels. Tell him he is looking off-colour.
+     Suggest headache. Say you will brighten him up, that you will make
+     his head glow pleasantly, etc. Palm the sovereign in your left
+     hand. Empty contents of box into your right. Rub the powder well
+     into gent's head, which will become golden (metallic). Then proceed
+     as in Trick No. 6.
+
+The directions seemed clear enough.
+
+"Sit down," said Warner.
+
+The native obeyed, squatting on the ground and spreading his loin cloth
+over his knees like an apron.
+
+"I am going to take away your pains."
+
+"Thank you, sir."
+
+It suddenly occurred to Warner that, though the native might have a
+shilling, he certainly would not possess a sovereign, so he took one
+from his own pocket, wishing he had thought of this before.
+
+"You see this?" said Warner, holding up the coin.
+
+"Yes sir, much money."
+
+Now Warner didn't know how to palm a coin. He had seen it done, of
+course, but had never yet tried to palm or to do anything else in the
+nature of a conjuring trick. To guard against possible accident, he
+turned his back upon the boy and very cautiously opened the box.
+
+It was full of some bright yellow metallic powder. He read the
+directions again and wondered what Trick No. 6 might be. He wished he
+had risked a pill.
+
+However, he had not the courage to go back now. The native might suspect
+his ignorance if he selected another box. It was hardly playing the game
+perhaps to trick a poor confiding black, but Warner consoled himself
+with the thought that it is said of even real doctors that when in doubt
+they sometimes give their patients bread pills.
+
+So, emptying the contents of the box into his right hand, he turned
+again and began to rub the golden powder into the native's woolly head.
+The sovereign he held in his left hand.
+
+The more he rubbed, the brighter grew his patient's head. It
+scintillated.
+
+The trick pleased Warner, who soon forgot his misgivings; he forgot the
+sovereign too, and rubbed the powder in with both hands.
+
+The coin fell into the patient's lap. Warner was busy and didn't notice
+the accident at once, but the native did. He picked up the money and
+quietly slipped it into the rawhide pouch attached to his belt.
+
+At length Warner stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. The boy's head
+shone like a brass knob. He glanced at his own hands. They looked as if
+they had been gilded. Both hands! Where the devil had that sovereign
+gone to?
+
+He looked on the ground. He felt in all his pockets. He looked at the
+boy, who said nothing. He therefore dismissed the patient without
+mentioning his loss.
+
+Whilst washing the greasy gold stuff off his hands, Warner was conscious
+of a hum of excitement rising from the spot where his natives had made
+their midday shelter. Trick No. 10 was evidently a success. The hospital
+orderly was right; he had surprised the natives.
+
+That night all his boys, and a score of strange natives besides, came to
+Warner complaining of pains. Each one had a strip of bark tied tightly
+round his forehead, a second round his chest, and a third round his
+stomach. They lingered as if dissatisfied when he gave pills to
+each--one or more as ordered by the physician--taken at random from his
+many little pill boxes.
+
+
+IODINE.
+
+Warner was sitting under a tree on the south bank of the Zambesi,
+watching the local natives floating his waggon across the stream. He
+was wondering how long, at the present rate of progression, it would
+take to get the whole of his stuff across. Two days, three, perhaps
+more.
+
+"Sir, my felicitations upon the indefectibility of the climatology."
+
+The startled Warner looked round and saw a black man very stout and
+short, in European clothes and perspiring freely. He carried his large
+elastic-sided boots in his hand and a black alpaca coat over his arm.
+
+As Warner turned towards him, this strange creature politely lifted his
+ridiculously small sun helmet. It could not be said that he bowed to the
+white man, but the braces which he wore over his waistcoat sagged
+slightly in front and became taut behind, whilst the crease which
+represented the highest contour of his stomach deepened a little. Warner
+gaped stupidly at the man. He made mental note of the large gold
+spectacles astride the fat, flat nose; the collar, once white and
+starched, now grubby and collapsed; the heavy brass watchchain stretched
+tightly across the ample space between pocket and pocket; the badly
+creased loud check trousers, and the dirty white socks; the large green
+umbrella which, held to shield the back, framed face and form.
+
+Warner forgot the man's ridiculous speech in his more ridiculous
+appearance.
+
+"As I ventured to remark, sir, although the orb of day smiles down with
+radiance from the firmament, the temperamental calidity is not
+unendurable."
+
+"Yes," said Warner vaguely, "but who are you?"
+
+"Sir, if you will pardon the expression I may say I am a kind of a
+wandering refugee hailing from Jamaica with a mission to carry the
+apprehensions of civilisation to the unspeakably incomprehending
+aboriginal inhabitants of this beatific equatorial region who are
+doubtless immersed in the chaotic complexity of irreligious heathenism
+and incondite boorishness."
+
+Warner eyed the speaker with astonishment, feeling tired, somehow, and
+out of breath.
+
+The black man saw, with obvious pleasure, the effect which his speeches
+had produced.
+
+He had spoken fluently, continuously, without pause or effort. Without
+expression or inflexion the long unbroken flow of chosen words had
+rumbled off his tongue.
+
+He cleared his throat as if about to speak again, but Warner hastily
+interposed.
+
+"What is your name?"
+
+"Joseph Johnson, sir."
+
+"You are obviously a man of some education."
+
+"Sir, if I may presume to express an opinion upon Your Honour's
+personality I would hazard the conclusion that Your Excellency is a
+gentleman of kindly but penetrating discernment for I received my
+education at the hands of the Reverend Westinghouse Wilberforce of
+Kingston Jamaica alas now dead of whom as the classical writer has it
+_de mort nil ni bum_ I repeat sir _de mort nil ni bum_."
+
+Warner abruptly turned his back, snatched out his handkerchief, and held
+it tightly to his nose.
+
+Joseph Johnson, mistaking for emotion the queer little sounds which
+Warner did not entirely succeed in smothering with his handkerchief,
+sniffed and blinked his small eyes sympathetically, murmuring
+"_de-mort-nil-ni-bum_."
+
+When Warner had regained his self-control he asked the black man what he
+wanted.
+
+"Sir, I am credibly informed that you are a distinguished member of a
+profession which has my humble but unqualified admiration and regard for
+what can be nobler than the unselfish alleviation in others of the ills
+to which this weak flesh of ours is heir need I say the medical
+profession?"
+
+"What then?"
+
+"I suffer your honour from a slight but painful derangement of the vocal
+chords which hinders my fluency of enunciation and so disturbs my mental
+process as to detract from the strength of my disputations and
+dissertations."
+
+"You mean you have a sore throat?"
+
+"Sir, you grasp my meaning."
+
+"You want some medicine for it?"
+
+"Sir, if I might so far encroach upon your generosity...."
+
+Warner rose hastily and walked to his goods piled up on the bank
+awaiting transportation, leaving Johnson to rumble on and on.
+
+Here, then, was another patient. He must be careful. The man might know
+something and question his treatment. That would be most awkward.
+
+"Corrosive sublimate? Wounds, the orderly had said, and had warned him
+about burning out the bottom of the pot used when mixing the stuff.
+Better look through the rest before deciding.
+
+"Pills? Might do the objectionable fellow some general good.
+
+"Iodine? Yes, that's the stuff for him. Iodine for housemaid's knee or
+sore throat. Well, the man said he had a sore throat and he should know,
+so iodine let it be. Where's the brush?"
+
+Warner opened the bottle. The cork was a little soft and inclined to
+crumble. He dipped the tip of the large camel's hair brush into the
+dark brown liquid and called Joseph Johnson to him.
+
+"I am going to paint your throat. It also wants a thorough rest, so you
+must not talk more than is absolutely necessary."
+
+"Thank you, sir."
+
+"Now open."
+
+The black man's mouth was immense. Warner had never seen such a cavern,
+nor, for that matter, had he ever seen such a perfect, strong, clean set
+of teeth. He gave little dabs here and there, this side and that, and
+then withdrew the brush.
+
+"That's enough for this morning. Come again at sunset, and remember,
+don't talk."
+
+This admonition he repeated in self-defence. He rather dreaded the man's
+brook of words.
+
+His patient bent forward slightly, put on his sun helmet and walked
+away, his eyes watering a little.
+
+The man was most obedient. Punctually at sunset he again appeared. He
+smiled pleasantly at Warner, but did not announce himself with any
+long-winded speech.
+
+Warner looked at the throat and remarked that he thought it was better,
+that one or two applications would set it right. He then painted as
+before.
+
+This time Johnson coughed and large tears rolled slowly down his cheeks.
+
+Then it occurred to Warner that he himself, when a child, had had his
+throat painted, more than once. He recollected that the operation was
+not a pleasant one. He had coughed a great deal, and his eyes had
+watered very much. Clearly he was underdoing it. No matter, he would put
+that right to-morrow.
+
+Warner was pleasantly surprised when, in the morning, the local natives
+came to tell him that they were about to cross the river with the last
+of his goods, after which they would take him if he was ready to go. He
+had expected the job to take at least another day.
+
+He kept back the bottle of iodine and the camel's hair brush, and sat
+down on a camp stool to wait for Johnson.
+
+In about a quarter of an hour the patient arrived.
+
+"How are you this morning?" asked Warner pleasantly.
+
+"Much better, I thank you, sir."
+
+"Let's have a look. Capital, capital. Now don't move, I'll just touch it
+up."
+
+Warner, remembering his overnight decision, plunged the brush deeply
+into the bottle and withdrew it fully charged and dripping.
+
+He began to dab the throat here and there as before. A gurgling sound
+came from Joseph Johnson's mouth. Warner recognised the warning. He knew
+his time was distinctly limited. He felt that, if he did not hurry, much
+of the enormous cavern would remain unpainted. With a rapid movement,
+like one stirring porridge to save it from burning, he finished the job
+and stepped back.
+
+Joseph Johnson seemed to explode. Tears forced their way through his
+tightly closed eyelids. A roar boomed from the painted throat. The
+patient's condition quite alarmed the doctor. Surely the fool wasn't
+going to die?
+
+Looking round for inspiration, Warner saw that the native canoe had
+returned to ferry him across the river. He didn't actually run away, but
+quickly corking his bottle of iodine he walked briskly to the river
+bank, entered the canoe and told the crew to paddle to the other side.
+
+He heaved a sigh of relief when he stepped ashore. He looked back, but
+could see no sign of Joseph Johnson.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some weeks later his troubled conscience was set at rest by the
+following letter:
+
+                                                    "Bulawayo,
+                                                       "21/4/19.
+
+     "Honoured Sir,
+
+     "The enablement was not vouchsafed to me to indicate to Your
+     Excellency the prodigious potentiality of the prophylactic applied
+     with such consummate and conscientious technicality to my
+     unostentatious tenement of clay. For full three weeks the
+     taciturnity prescribed was obediently observed without difficulty
+     or mutinousness of feeling. After which, rising from the slough of
+     my despond, I found my multiloquence had returned fourfold, my
+     linguacious allocution and discursive conversationalism prominently
+     augmented. I then felt that my mission was not to the unenlightened
+     ignoramusses of this neighbourhood but to the encyclopedical
+     omnicients of the south. I have therefore returned to Bulawayo. Now
+     here...."
+
+As there were four closely written pages of this kind of thing, Warner
+turned to the last of them, which ended:
+
+     "Sir, I have the honour to be
+
+     "Your Honourable Excellency's most grateful, most humble, most
+     obedient and unforgetful servant,
+
+                                               "JOSEPH JOHNSON."
+
+
+CORROSIVE SUBLIMATE.
+
+Late one afternoon some natives carried an old man, wrapped in a
+blanket, into Warner's camp and laid him down on the ground before the
+tent. Warner came out.
+
+"What is this?" he asked.
+
+"A dead man, killed by a leopard."
+
+"Why do you bring the dead man to me?"
+
+"He said he wanted to come and told us he would curse us if we did not
+bring him. We did not wish to trouble the Doctor with a dead man, but a
+'dead man's curse' is a fearful thing."
+
+Warned stooped and looked under the blanket. The man wasn't dead, he
+opened his eyes.
+
+Although far from dead, the native had been very badly mauled and had
+lost a great quantity of blood. Tyro though he was, Warner could see
+that his condition was serious. Stepping back into the tent, he poured
+out half a tumbler of neat whisky and, lifting the man's head, made him
+drain the glass. The effect upon the patient was immediate; he sat up
+and began to talk rapidly, describing the accident.
+
+"We were hunting, these dogs, those others, and I. We came upon a
+leopard in the grass. One, who is not here, thrust an assegai through
+her. She bit him in the arm and he ran away. Another, and neither is he
+here, struck the leopard with his axe. She jumped on him and bit him in
+the neck. He ran away crying out that she had killed him.
+
+"A third, who did not return with us, broke her back with a club, but
+she tore his thigh with her teeth. Then I went to her and pierced her
+belly with my assegai. But she bit me in the arm and shoulder and clawed
+me down the back. She also broke my assegai with her teeth so that it
+was useless.
+
+"Then, having nothing with which to kill her, I held her by the ears
+with my two hands, calling to these slaves to come and finish her, for I
+could see by her face that she was dying. But they were afraid and ran
+away like women. And the leopard shook her head and my hands slipped
+because of the blood which had run down my arm from my shoulder. And
+when my hands came together, she took them in her mouth and crushed
+them both. Then she died."
+
+The man's hands were swollen and shapeless. He had a large gash and a
+deep puncture in his shoulder, and his back was very badly scored.
+
+After staring for a while at their companion, the natives who brought
+him slipped quietly away, hastened in their departure, no doubt, by his
+reference to the sorry part which they had played in the affair.
+
+Warner was greatly pleased. He looked upon the coming of this wounded
+man as a stroke of good fortune. Here at last was a straightforward
+case, all clear and above board. And he knew exactly what to do.
+Corrosive sublimate, one in ten thousand, wash the blood off, keep the
+wounds clean, make the man comfortable.
+
+He shouted for his kitchen boys and ordered warm water in large
+quantities. He had not seen them go, so called the wounded man's
+companions to build a shelter of grass and branches for him. When he
+realised that they had gone, he set to work on the shelter himself.
+
+For weeks Warner laboured on those wounds. The man improved slowly. As
+he grew better he spoke of payment. Warner told him not to bother about
+it, but he persisted.
+
+"Have you not given me back my life?"
+
+"What of it?"
+
+"Are not those others dead?"
+
+Now, this was true. The other wounded men who went to their homes all
+died of blood-poisoning, and Warner's reputation grew in consequence.
+
+But no matter what arguments and persuasions were used, Warner would not
+hear of payment in any shape or form.
+
+The man was obstinate.
+
+"If I receive a gift from a man, must I not give one in return? Am I to
+be shamed? Is it not the custom that a gift shall be received with a
+gift? And gifts must be equal. What, then, shall I give to the Great
+Doctor? What have I, a very poor man, of value equal to the life which
+the Doctor has given back to me? I have no cattle and no sheep. I have a
+few goats, very few, and I have some wild cats' skins. But what are
+these to a life?"
+
+Twice daily did Warner wash and dress the man's wounds. Each time the
+man spoke of a gift for a gift. He seemed to feel his honour was at
+stake.
+
+At length the day came when Warner thought he could safely send his
+patient away. The man's final protestations of gratitude and his
+entreaties to be permitted to make some payment caused Warner much
+embarrassment. He firmly declined to accept the merest trifle in return
+for all his time and trouble. He would not be robbed of the feeling that
+at length he had done some genuine good for good's sake.
+
+Of course he could explain nothing of this to the old native.
+
+The man was much troubled. He went away at length saying he would bring
+next day the gift which he knew now the Doctor wanted. Warner repeated
+that he wanted nothing and would take nothing.
+
+Next morning, when Warner got up and came out of his tent, he found the
+old man waiting for him. He was not alone. By his side sat a little
+girl, the old man's daughter.
+
+Warner remembered having seen her several times before during her
+father's long illness. From time to time she had come with her mother to
+inquire how the old man progressed and to bring him some horrid-looking
+native delicacy.
+
+"Here she is," said the late patient. "Here is my child. She is my only
+one. You ask for her and I give her to you. A life for a life, which is
+just."
+
+Warner protested indignantly that he had not asked for the girl, that he
+did not want her or anything else.
+
+"See, she is strong," persisted the old man. "She is strong to carry
+water, to grind grain. She is worth three cows, five goats and ten
+hoes."
+
+Warner became quite angry.
+
+The old man was incredulous and distressed. He had somehow concluded
+that Warner had really set his heart upon possessing his daughter, his
+plain, fat little daughter and nothing else, but that, native-like, he
+had not said so.
+
+In the end Warner accepted, in self-defence, a mangy, evil-smelling
+cat's skin.
+
+
+CHLORODYNE.
+
+A day or two after Warner had become the unwilling possessor of the
+mangy skin, which, by the way, he promptly buried as soon as its donor's
+back was turned, he set out on a three days' journey from his camp to
+visit a white trader with whom from time to time he transacted business
+of some kind. He went on foot, accompanied only by a few natives, one of
+whom carried the box of medicines.
+
+While he was resting during the midday heat, the Headman of the
+neighbouring village approached him with many signs of deference.
+
+"Good day to you, Great Doctor."
+
+"Good day to you," Warner replied.
+
+"Are you indeed the Great Doctor?"
+
+Warner was bold enough to say he was.
+
+"Will the Great Doctor help me with medicines? My wife, who is very old,
+suffers from a great sickness. Her arms are now no thicker than a stick.
+Pain is with her always. She never sleeps. All day long and all the
+night she lies and moans. She no longer cries out. Will not the Great
+Doctor kill this sickness? I have told her of you."
+
+Warner rose abruptly. He felt a lump rising in his throat. He wished he
+were a doctor instead of merely the owner of a box of drugs and all but
+ignorant of the uses to which they should be put.
+
+"Where is your wife?" he asked gruffly.
+
+"The Great Doctor will come!" exclaimed the delighted old native,
+leading the way towards his village.
+
+Warner could distinguish little or nothing when he found himself inside
+the Headman's hut. Coming in directly from the outside glare made it
+difficult to see. The native pointed to a form propped up against the
+pole which supported the roof of the hut.
+
+Warner looked; suddenly he saw all there was to see, and gasped as a
+faint moan of pain reached his ears. A thin old woman lay there with
+closed eyes, so thin that Warner marvelled that she could be alive. Her
+arms and legs, too, for that matter were indeed, as the Headman had
+said, as thin as sticks. Her distended ribs showed plainly even in the
+dim light. She had neither hair nor flesh on her skull, merely wrinkled,
+dull brown skin adhering closely to the bone. Her neck was no thicker
+than one's wrist. Her stomach was enormous.
+
+Warner looked down upon this poor, emaciated creature with horror.
+
+She moaned again.
+
+Her husband said: "See, woman, here is the Great Doctor of whom all men
+speak. He has turned aside from his journeying to make you well with
+medicines. Does he not make all men well? Do not the people say so? Soon
+you will be well and will laugh again. Soon you will sit in the sun or
+go to the fields. Do you hear, woman? The Great Doctor has come."
+
+Warner cursed under his breath. He never expected this sort of thing
+when he lightheartedly accepted from the hospital orderly the box of
+medicines with a conjuring trick thrown in. The thought of that
+conjuring trick was nauseating in the presence of this pain.
+
+Save for the rapid heaving of her bony chest to laboured breathing, the
+woman had made no move since he entered the hut. Now, however, Warner
+saw the drooping eyelids flicker. A fear seized him that the poor
+creature would look up. He couldn't stand that. He couldn't meet her
+eyes. He hurried away, saying he would bring some medicine.
+
+He reached his resting place and opened his box. Right on the top lay
+the bottle of chlorodyne. He repeated to himself: "Chlorodyne, good for
+pains in the stomach! Chlorodyne, good for pains in the stomach!"
+
+Warner returned to the hut but wouldn't go in. He pushed the bottle into
+the old man's hand saying, parrot-like: "Good for pains in the stomach,
+give her some water with it."
+
+Then he went back to his halt again, called to his boys to pack up and
+follow him, anxious only to put distance between himself and all that
+pain and suffering.
+
+Ten days later Warner passed by that village again on his return
+journey. He could have followed another route, but a strong desire to
+ask about the woman drew him to the village. He must know about the
+woman. He had casually asked the trader with whom he had transacted his
+business how much chlorodyne one usually takes at a dose. The reply:
+"Oh, about fifteen drops or from ten to twenty, according to your size,"
+nearly made his heart stand still. And he, the Great Doctor, had given
+the old native a full bottle of the stuff! True, he had not told him how
+much to take, but Warner found scant consolation in this thought.
+
+As he and his carriers neared the village, he heard a great commotion,
+men shouting to each other and women making that shrill quavering noise
+familiar to all travellers in Africa. He thought he could distinguish
+the word "doctor." He was certain of it now. "The Great Doctor is
+coming. He who saves the people! The white man with the medicines! The
+Doctor! The Doctor!"
+
+The natives broke through from the bush on every hand. They surrounded
+the little party. The carriers were quickly relieved of their loads.
+There was no mistaking the nature of the demonstration; it was one of
+goodwill, not of hate.
+
+The old Headman hobbled up, praising Warner lustily.
+
+What could it all mean?
+
+At length Warner asked the question point blank: "How is your wife?"
+
+"Oh, she is dead," replied the old man. "She died with a smile upon her
+face. I gave her half a cup full of your medicine filled up with water.
+She was silent for a long while. Then she said: 'I have now no pain.'
+And then: 'Give me more.' She smiled when I gave her another cup of
+your good medicine. And then she slept. And I knew she had no pain
+because she smiled. And as she slept she died. And when we buried her
+the smile was on her face. You are a Great Doctor and your medicine is
+very good. Good Fortune has come to the people that you are here. Can a
+man smile who is in pain? Does not a smile mean pleasure? Ah, but that
+is a good medicine."
+
+"Give me back that bottle," said Warner, and his voice sounded strangely
+weak.
+
+"Yes, Great Doctor, it is indeed a precious medicine."
+
+
+NITRATE OF POTASH.
+
+The memory of that old woman haunted Warner. He argued continuously with
+himself. Yes, he had certainly killed her. There was no doubt about it.
+On the other hand, she would have died in any case. If he had not come
+upon the scene, she might have lingered on for a few more weary weeks,
+never free from pain. Still, if he had overdosed her intentionally to
+end her pain, it would surely have been murder. At best it was a
+criminal blunder. But then he meant well. So, too, do other fools.
+Common sense told him he had no cause to worry, nothing to regret, it
+was merely a fortunate accident. Conscience viewed the matter seriously
+and with harshness.
+
+Warner was still engaged in this mental struggle when a stranger, a
+white man, walked briskly up to his tent.
+
+"Is anyone at home?"
+
+"Yes, come in."
+
+"Have you any nitrate of potash, doctor?"
+
+Warner had become so used to the term "doctor" that he did not at once
+notice the significance of the word when spoken by a white man. So he
+merely answered: "Yes, I think so. What do you want it for?"
+
+"I, too, am a doctor."
+
+"A doctor?"
+
+"Yes, a medical missionary, your new neighbour on the other side of the
+hill."
+
+"Sit down a minute, I'll get the stuff."
+
+Warner went to his box and, opening it, surveyed his wretched stock of
+stale drugs. So here was a real doctor! Thank Providence for that! He
+passed in review his many cases, only a few of which are set down here.
+He knew he had done his best, but he blamed himself for ever having aped
+the doctor.
+
+"Is there anything you want besides nitrate of potash?"
+
+"No, thanks. I've got everything else I'm likely to require."
+
+Warner brought the bottle. "Here you are."
+
+"Thanks. I only want a little."
+
+"Take the lot."
+
+"But you'll want it sooner or later."
+
+"No."
+
+"Of course you will."
+
+"No."
+
+"Then you have some more?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then of course you'll want it."
+
+"No, I'm not a doctor and I don't know how to use it. I don't really
+know the use of any drug. I've probably killed off dozens of people in
+my efforts to assist. I'm so glad you've come to live here."
+
+When Warner sent applicants for medical relief to his new friend on the
+other side of the hill, they went, of course, but not too willingly. The
+newcomer did much good, but it was Warner who got the credit for it all.
+The natives invariably consulted Warner before going to the Missionary,
+and returned again to thank him after they had been treated. They
+persisted in the belief that the Missionary doctor was their Doctor's
+man.
+
+Warner is still spoken of as "The Doctor"; all others who came later are
+referred to as "Medical Men."
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+Printed by THE FIELD PRESS LTD., Windsor House, Bream's Buildings, E.C.4
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
+
+Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. Spelling has not been
+standardized (e.g. wagon/waggon) or corrected (beginnng). Close quotes
+have not been added at the end of paragraphs followed by more dialogue.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Witch Doctor and other Rhodesian
+Studies, by Frank Worthington
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WITCH DOCTOR ***
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