Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1907-01-13
CHAPTER x.
Envoys in Council.

IHVOyS III
Halo. Meredith. l heard rumors that
there was a white man up in this part OF
the bush. but l never guessed It was you.
did think of sending on runner TO see.
| but somehow, l didn't"
mo. you wouldn't" said the older man.
! Il never knew you make up your mind
to anything unless IT decided for you.
Now. look here. Sade. were in lonely coun.
try here and IL l shoot you, you'll never
be missed and. by CAD, shoot you Will
unless you mend your memory"
"Poof! what does 1t matter? We're the
| only white men within two hundred miles.
| and the boys are out of earshot
/ "A black boy can hear lot farther than
| you think and for that matter I've known
| trees in West Africa to have ears that un-
derstand English-at least that has been
| the only explanation one could find of the
| way things have leaked out But welf
leave all that alone. I've given you TO un-
dersatnd by what name L wish to be ad-
dressed
well, you needn't be so short about IT.
I've always called you Smith down in the
coast factories. OF course | can't forget
that l once knew you when you were
"Wil you hold your SOLDERING tongUe2
II you can't, say SO. and I'll stop it once
and for always. I've tod you my wish; to
you or anyone else I'm Smith, or Swizzle-
Stick Smith, which you like. I've no con-
nection with anything that went before. and
pom my soul, you're the only man now
alive that knows it, 1 believe I'd be lot
safer If you were out OF the way"
Sade turned his back petulantly "Oh, do
stop this wrangle. I'll call you Swizzle-
Stick Smith to the end of the chapter. and
forget that you were ever anything other
than drunken old palm-oil ruffian. if it
pleases you. Come to my hut and chop.
/ shot some parrots this morning. They'll
taste bit like high rock. but they are
better than timed stuff anyway. They came
over finely, real raketers. 1t was quite
like the old days at home. This gun. by
the way. is about my last link with ances-
trail splendor. Look there. a Holland. They
wanted me 10 have electors, l remembersl
but / wouldn't"
Mr.. Smith screwed his eyeglass into hia
other eye and Strengthened the new back
silk ribbon by which it hung. No" he
said grimly, that very wise OF YOU:
especially as electors weren't invented
when that gun was built. wonder what
sort of a tale you told Image before he
trusted you with it?''
What you driving at? What's Cap-
pie Image to do with it?'
That's my gun. | had it-well, as you've
started the forbidden subject already-E
had IT before the fall. Image saw ii af
Malla-Nulla one day when l was full up
and walked off with 1t, and / never mani
aged to get 1t back from him. He always
said the beach was too bad to risk letting
a surf boat bring it ashore. Well. you
may keep the thing for the present, and
I'll take a bowlful of your parrot stew by.
way of rent. This the house? You've.
able quarters, / see."
The house was series of rooms packed
round an internal courtyard. The outer
walls were of waffle, luted with mud
thrown onto them in vigorous handfuls.
and left to bake hard in the sun. The roon
was a pile OF untidy thatch, the floor OF
hardened mud and in the middle of tho,
courtyard was an ineffective shade-tree;
scorched by the smoke of the cooking fires:
Beyond this house sprawled the other
houses Of a small West African village.
l.aar mod hxafx
them.
To most Europeans there would have been
much to notice-the cooking vessels, the
calabashes the food, the ju-ju charms that
one met at unexpected corners, the scay~
enging dogs and the all-pervading smels.
But Swizzle-Stick Smiths curiosity was
worn by twenty years attrition, and these
savage circumstances had grown native to
him. He did not even comment on the fact
that Slade was living entirely in local fash,
ion; the thing was so obvious a course for
his friend to follow that he took ii for
granted. He himself man of like
tastes Down at Malla-Nulla the menu had
mostly smacked of Africa; but once he had
left the coast, Mr.. Smith had Travelled as
an Okky headman travels living mainly on
kanki and couscousoo, and for beverage
partaking of cour palm wine, muddy bush
water and an allowance of trade gin sternly
cut down to one sQuare-faced bottle per
diem.
His only comment the place that
SHADES mosquito bar was made of a ma
faulty, and that certain mark Of cheese
cloth gave better passage to the air, and
was more impervious to insects. To which
Slade made reply that he knew IL, but
couldn't be bothered to change. after which
the cooRboy brought in a calabash of odor-
ous,- highly peppered stew, colored bright
orange from palm oil and condiments. ana
set 1t on the floor OF one of the rooms. Mr..
Smith pocketed his pipe, dropped his eye
glass to the end of its black ribbon, and
wiped his hands on his shabby pajamas.
,g.I, fla
them sat down on the earth beside the
calabash and proceeded TO eat skilhully
from their fingers.
Around them were the cases and bales
of SHADES outfit, each done up into a load
ready for a carriers head. In the other
room of the house and in the courtyard
were the carriers, some of them eating.
some of them cleaning their teeth with
the rubbing stick, which all coast natives
use necessarily in moments OF leisure.
some OF them chatting. Most OF them sat
bareheaded in the staring sunlight: a few
nestled In the purple shadows. One was
picking a jgger out OF his toe with
splinter of bamboo. In a spare corner an
other played tom-tom on the bottom OF an
empty kerosene-tin bucket. and three stall
warts stood I'D before him monotonously
dancing.
his pipe. Does IT run to a peg?" no
asked
Tt does Don't spoil my fine vintage port
with tobacco. You can smoke afterward.
Here, boy, we fit for GIN
Gin lfhr said the Accra in attendance,
and handed a square-faced bottle and O
bowl.
for smoke you bring fire. one-time.
Savvy?"
ct ft"
Swizzle-Stick Smith moved back until his
shoulders rested against bale, and
hitched up the knees of his shrunk pajamas
and stretched his arms pleasurably. You
travel in comfort, Slade."
1.-The secret is don't move along too
fast. I've been in this village fortnight.
don't know when / shall make up my
mind to pull out and go on
mot till you've eaten II bare or are
-. G..