Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-09-15

the unpleasant thought of crocodileS in his
head-with typical planter ignorance he did not
know whether there were any crocs in this part
of the river or not. He made such progress
that it looked as if he were going to follow the
canoe downstream and not make the shore at
all, but projecting point saved him.
With all his strength, he just made it. The
two natives were already there, wringng out
their barkskin loin-cloths in shiverng disgust.
Disgust his own emotion. He was sick
at heart for the loss of the canoe. How on
earth were they to manage now? He wondered
If there was chance of recovering it, Family
he could hear the shoutings from the other
shore, and see the man racing along the bank,
In obedience, doubtless, to Byfed's harsh
urgings.
They would never get it again. And there
wasn't another for miles, except the ones two
days march away, at the regular border
crossing. guarded by native officials on each
side. They couldn't get the tusks over there.
1t was the hardest luck He felt responsible,
since he'd been in the thing when it happened,
and Byheld would make him responsible But
Byfied was more to blame in the matter than
he was. Byfield had put those top loads on
himself
What were they going to do?
There they WERE the three drowned rats of
them, and over on the other side were the
handful of porters they had got at the last
village, their luggage, what was left of it, and
the precious tuSks.
And Scrap! Once he thought of his dog he
ceased to worry about the tusks They could
bury them on Belgian soil, as they had once
talked of doing, anyway, and send for the
Indian trader four days away at Mboga, and
sell them to him. Nick had been in favor of
that plan all along-he had wanted the whole
transaction over with before they got back to
British soil, but Byfied had been sure they
could get better price from the fellow at
Portal.
Well, nothing for it but the Belgian trader
now. He hoped they wouldn't lose too much
on the transaction, that was ALL
But Scrap! Sitting there on the old raincoat
whining after him. He'd never leave the coat;
he'd go supper less-Nick was more troubled
about that than by his own supperless condi-
ton; and Scrap would be at the mercy of that
Mohammedan bully.
Nick thought of trying to swim back, but he
knew he could not make it with one hand and
he hated to leave his gun; he thought of
Singing it on his back and trying to oil it
quickly afterwards but that was stiff chance,
and 1t was all the gun he had. Besides there
might be crocs BY morning, he thought the
men on the other side could knock a raft to-
gether and come for him-perhaps they could
get the stuff over. On this side there were no
trees for a raft.
Az ANAt AOlC at CEaC InOugnC OF
RAFT, and, after last pointleSs halloo and
wave at Byfelds figure, standing darklv in the
waning light, he hurried to help the natives
rig some sort of shelter together for the on
coming night. He cut brush with his lack
knne WhAe they slashed with their own blades:
then they tied beehive of framework together
ana hastened to heap grass upon it,
'IHE natives more skillful than he, completed
the job of getting the hut of sorts to-
gether; they coaxed fire to burn from the
green twigs and dried grass, and crouching
about it, they drew out of their goatskin bags.
That had withstood the water well, a little
meal, and native tobacco
They did not offer to share; they looked ap-
prehensively at him as they lighted their CLAW
pipes ready to leap away at his slightest
offensive. He did not blame them; he grinned
and tried, to their amusement, to dry out his
wet cigarettes; finally he paid the tobacco to
them for brief pull at pipe
soon they were curled and snoring in the
shelter, while he sat Slapping mosquitoes by the
deao emoers, and listening to the shrill din of
insects. Far away, lion grunted in the reeds
10y the river, and Nick laid his gun across his
knees. After a time he crawled into the
shelter and stretched out beside the porters
But sleep was fitful Worry and mosquitoes
Stung him awake He went outside again, and
tried conclusions in the grass, his hand on
his gun.
shot walked him. He was upright, tensely
listening, before it died away 1t came from
the west across the river. The porters snored,
unhearlng Then came the thin, shrill
yelp of dog.
Scrap-was that Scrap? A tingle fury ran
through him. What were they doing over
there? What mischief was afoot?
He listened, it seemed, for hours but he
heard nothing more, and at last he fell heavily
asleep.
The sun woke him. The heat and brightness