Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1926-07-31

NOT A CENT TILL YOU TAKE ME
BRODIE'S FARNf!'
a whirlwind sprawl Of arms and legs
into the oblivion of the dust behind
them. -ss.,
The crowd sent up "a yell of appre.
ciative mirth.
Richenda, terrified now, turned to
the others.
Get off,. she screamed. Get off,
| prodding right and left with battling
| fists. 'Oh. driver. driver, make them
get off,
But All Mutagayo. hands paralyzed
on the wheel, every sense intent on
steering this thing that tore like a
| whirlwind over the oX-cart track. en-
tireIy forgetting In his inexperience
I that brakes existed. had neither eye
nor word for his distressed fare.
Came a series of holes. Richenda
and the clay-daubed gallant at her
side bounded up to the cotton hood
above. came down. bounced again six
inches off their seats. The youth on
the bonnet ratified against the wind
screen till the glass threatened to
shiver in the frame, and shrek of
fresh delight came from the unlimited
cargo.
This motoring--it is damn fine
was the burden of their Kikuyu.
couched appreciation. M'suri sana!
Excellent
They reached the bottom of the hill
In few seconds. which had seemed
time unreasonable to Richenda. and
Elizabeth" came once more to E
wheeling stop.
ment. the score of nude bodies de-
scended into the road and once more
took up their iabors.
"Aya colombi!' came the voice of
| the leader of the chorus. Ava CO.
lombi! A-a.ya colombo they roared
in unison, and strained their muscles
upon the car again.
Richenda sat back breathlessly. The
smell of the rank bodies about her,
the raucous yells of them. the thun-
dering, bouncing motion of the car
Ii was all nightmare. She felt sud
denly weak, so weak that she scarcely
cared what might happen next. And
the bitter chill of the East African
night was eating into her bones.
Another hilltop. another leaping
surge of oil-rubbed bodies, another
wild song of delighted triumph, more
rattles, more bounces. A longer slope
this time, sleeper. And the hands of
Ali MutaEayo were not steady on the
wheel now. The thing was running a
zigzag course, scudding over the
ground till the rush of the wind bade
fair to suffocate the girl on the back
seat. There would be death at the end
of thiS-death underneath a surging
mass of brown, bleeding. sitting
bodies!
And she didn't care She was past
caring now. past praying.
When they ratified to the end of the
slope this time Richenda had sagged
In. her seat. white as death. uncon-
scious of-eyerything about her. How
many more rises they topped and left
behind she never knew. Things flew
by in whirling, gray mist Time was
not II was the voice of ALI Mutagayo
at her ear. the touch of his hand on
her arm, shaking her gently. concern.
eddy, that brought her senses back.
She opened her eyes, saw a forest
of cupped palms thrust close about
her.
"Memsahib, here is Lambrogu, said
Ali Mutagayo.
"Baksheesh, baksheesh, baksheeshr'
chorused the wild men of the forest,
already we'll versed in the tipping
propensities of the European tourists.
They must take me to the farm of
Bwana Brodie' she said family but
1HSMOTdDlVsz. y 1t Is III
1t was as we'll that she did not real
ize that the sparsely populated dis
trict of Lainbogru covered a very
large area and that the Brodie farm
might yet be a goodly distance away.
Happily. at that moment a white
kunzaed house boy passed on his
homeward way and directed All Muta.
gayo to the required homestead. which
proved to be barely a. mile farther
along the road.
But, having reached Lambogru, the
clan of helpers was curiously reluc.
tant to proceed a yard farther. They
, sent up a clamor of tongues which,
interpreted by the harassed Ali, gave
[ Richenda the information that their
wives were all alone, and their chill
dren were sick, and their parents were
| dying, and the lions were eating their
lherds, and the village would probably
| be burnt down, and they didn't like to
t'go home in the dark. rand a score OF
other complaints too numerous for
| translation. And the united chorus OF
| their clamoreHs anthem was "Bak
| sheesh, memSahib, baksheeshf
Richenda braced herself then
| clutched her little beaded handbag
! more closely between her fingers,
/ squared her small chin. at a pugna
| eious angle, faced them--that odd
score of unclothed sayages--faced
them, spears, smell and all.
mot cent? she shrilled. mot a
cent till you take me to the Bwana
| Brodie's farm
Twenty brows frowned ominously
20 pairs of hands twitched hungrily
Then through 20 primitive brains ran
| memories Of the doings of the white
| raj under whose protection this frail
I ol{xA1 40 T. arNQ fifI-ea StO0d.
| .aas rg-
/ fnr11rrrnvv