Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-04-21

HISS11 VI Ol1C UdI1dIl6 6AONCo
between them and the abrupt wall Of
the forest. Except for a few stray
chickens and tethered goat the clear
ing between the hutS was empty, for
the entire population of the place was
massed just out of sight at the palaver-
house down the slope.
He could hear the drums. He
had heard them for two days now
through the forest, throbbing, throb-
bing. He believed his men had led him
out of the way to reach this village in
answer to the calling drums.
And now those porters of his were
feigning sick, refusing to go on. He said
to himself anxiously that he would give
a hundred pounds for some one with a
knowledge of Africa, this Africa, to
talk to.
This was no Africa that he had ever
known. He was familiar only with the
British colony of well organized posts
and drilling soldiers, Of telephones and
transport, with little motor cars bounc-
ing over the plains and motor bikes
whizzing along roads, with natives It'd
lily organized either on reservations or
wearing number disks on their submits
sive necks.
This was the Kongo, and a wild. I'M
touched part of the Kongo, out Of
reach, out of knowledge. He was deep
In forest that he had never seen-and
it got his wind up, he said frankly to
himself
Something was wrong. Something
was going on. Those men of his
who pretended to be too sick to march
were down at the end of the village
among the naked throng swaying before
those drums.
What was it all about? He had
asked and been answered with apparent
frankness. A girl-the chiefs daughter
had died. Now her ghost was to die.
Some sort of religious ceremony, he sup
posed. How long would 1t last? Sup
pose his porters refused to leave? He
had no real hold over them; they were
wild savages from a village farther
back.
He was fool ever to have taken on
this safari. He was no white hunter by
profession, like his friend Persee, for
whom he was acting. He had taken
this on a bit for friendship, a bit for
the money, for these two Americans
with him had offered a good price for
their fancy in trips, and bit for the
adventure. A planters life grows stale
after the excitement of war.
He ought to have known enough not
TO go into the Kongo. But 1t was the
Kongo they had wanted-not the safe,
organized Kongo about Ruchuru that
they could have reached easily from
Kabale. No, they must come on the
old poacher's route across the Semliki
Valley into the forest, skirting unknown
country west of Lake Edward.
Ignorant as babes, that young brother
and sister! Eager to see real wilds and
real savages He rather liked that in
them; he himself was fed up with ma
tives in calico, and he was grateful to
the Americans for not yearning for big
game. Savages had seemed easier to
handle than elephants. Now he was
not so sure.
LIE wished he knew what this village
i Il was up to. He didn't relish the
thought of getting hung UP for days
between these walls Of forest. The for
est was getting on his nerves. "
1t had seemed heavenly when they
reached it, after the steaming heat Of
the Semlili Valley. Dim and dark 1t
was. full of silvery green light, with
orchids flashing out from the damp
greenery. with elephants squashing
ahead Of them down the muddy trails
and monkeys barking down unseen from
the branches of those incredibly high
trees. Lovely enough. If all you had to
do was to admire its loveliness-like his
Americans.
But he had to get the caravan
through, to find men for the loads, then
food for the men. Every step was head
porterage: there were beasts of burden.
They could not come on the old route,
for the tsetse fly was there now; so
they had made Zigzag circuit on ma
tive trails from village to village. He
was sure that this village was not on
the line of march, but the men had In
sisted.
Porter trouble-unending, everlasting
porter trouble. No trained men. Just
any men he could get to carry-com-
ing in reluctantly and running away
nights.
And now what sort of "ngesna" had
he run into-this ghost-dying? There
was nothing to worry over, Of course,
except possible delay but he did hate
to be let down before those two Ameri-
cans. He felt so RESPONSIBLE. And he
wasn't sure how to handle those wild
natives. He kept thinking Of
those CHASTITY bones he had seen in the
banana trees.
capt Lovett!"
Out of the tent next to him came
FIRST a bright head, then slim, khaki
clad figure.
your helmet, please"
ooh. certainlv I only thought, per-
haps, here in the green forest"
Miss Bryce put on her helmet with
the air of one amiably gratifying a
whim on the part Of a too-rigorous
nurse.
She came and stood beside the young
Englishman. She was almost as tall:
for he was slightly built young man OF
SKIRT
khaki trousers we're identical in cut,
turned out by London tailor, and her
stout boots and the wool puttees en-
casting her slim legs were every whit
as muddied as his. She would have
said that she had abolished every hint
Of femininity but there was f1agrantly
feminine trick to 1t. somehow-even
her way of jamming her hands IN her
pockets showed that she enjoyed them
and felt the masquerade.
"Is there a dance in the village?"
she asked lightly.
He had kept them in ignorance OF his
rather irritated him. He said little
shortly, I'm going to See"
I'll go with you"
No asking him, Of course-Just con-
ferring her presence as a joyous gilt!
Those red-headed girlsl
He could not have said why he felt
so exasperated with her lately. Even
the color of her hair annoyed hint
looked so brightly self-confident and
so pleased with itself. This porter
trouble was making him edgy, he told
himself, and he increased the restraint
of his manner.
GAS you like. But how is your
brother?"
"Bob's asleep. Not much Of tenn
perature, but it is the fever. isn't it,"
"Right-o." Having bit OF fever
was one of the things travellers liked
to mention Afterwards go of fever,
they'd say lightly. nice boy.
But untried.
Hell be fit in the morning" he said
easily.