AT KILEMBONGA
BEFORE nightfall Colin, Sinclair and Tiny Desmond were safely
installed at Kilembonga. They were almost too dead-beat to take
stock of their new abode that night. The reaction of their
adventurous journey by train, car and on foot, ending with thirty
odd miles on horseback had told heavily.
They were barely conscious of sitting down to a good square meal and
of being shown into a spacious bedroom. After that everything became
a blank until close on noon on the following day.
"Tiny, old son," exclaimed Colin, "we've slept the clock round."
"Might have slept the clock square, for all I know," replied
Desmond, stretching his aching limbs. "Hullo! Where are we? Honest
Injun, I thought we were back at Stockmere."
The two chums sat up and gazed at one another from opposite corners
of a large palm-thatched room. The windows were shaded by
"jalousies" or open louvres, from the almost vertical rays of the
sun.
The interior of the room was simplicity itself, or, as Desmond
remarked, "And everything within that cot was wondrous neat and
clean." The furniture was almost entirely constructed of African
teak, while to render the woodwork immune from the onslaughts of
ants the legs of the beds, chairs, and wash-stands stood in shallow
tin bowls of water.
"Where are our clothes, I wonder?" enquired Tiny.
"They can't have arrived yet," replied his chum. "The bullock
waggon----"
"Yes, I know," interrupted Desmond. "But the things we wore
yesterday. I have some idea that I left mine on that chair."
A brief search resulted in the finding of the missing garments. The
clothes had been brushed, neatly folded, and placed inside two tin
trunks.
Evidently the sounds made by the searchers had penetrated into
another part of the house, for there was a tremendous knock on the
door, followed by the entrance of Tenpenny Nail.
"Me your servant, sah," he announced, addressing Colin. "Tenpenny
Nail--dat's me. Blue Fly him come one time. Gone fetchee up
bath-water."
Colin regarded his new acquaintance curiously. He saw a tall,
broad-shouldered man of a type totally distinct from the Kaffir.
Tenpenny Nail was a Kruman who had served in a Haussa regiment
attached to the "Waifs," or West African Frontier Force. Attaining
the rank of corporal, he had elected at the close of hostilities to
take his discharge at Ujiji instead of returning to "The Coast." His
former master, late platoon-commander, had recently sold out and
returned to England, so Tenpenny Nail had taken service with Colonel
Narfield at Kilembonga.
This much Tenpenny Nail related promptly, accompanying his recital
with a succession of broad grins that gave his features the
appearance of being almost all mouth.
In the midst of his introductory speech Tenpenny Nail was
interrupted by the arrival of his colleague, Blue Fly, who so
strongly resembled Colin's servant that the lad wondered if he would
ever be able to distinguish one from the other.
Blue Fly was staggering under the weight of an enormous earthenware
jar of water. He could have carried the weight with equanimity in
the open by balancing the jar on his head; but the height of the
doorway prevented him, and perforce he had to carry it in his arms.
Powerfully built from the waist upwards, Blue Fly, like most African
natives, was woefully thin and weak "on his pins," and it certainly
looked as if his spidery legs would give way under the weight of his
burden.
"Massa Demon," he announced majestically. "Tiffin him ready in half
a perishing hour."
"Right-o, Bluebottle," replied Tiny cheerfully.
Blue Fly looked both surprised and pained.
"I tell you, sah," he observed with solemn dignity. "My name is Blue
Fly, sah, not Bluebottle."
"That's all right, old son," rejoined Tiny. "A mistake on both
sides. My name's Desmond."
But it was a very long time before Blue Fly left off calling his new
master "Demon," often at most inopportune moments.
Having bathed and dressed, Colin and Tiny found their way to the
dining-room, where Colonel Narfield was awaiting them.
"Had a good night?" he inquired. "That's splendid. We won't start
serious work for a couple of days. That'll give you a chance to look
round, and by that time the rest of your kit ought to be here. No;
we don't do much between eleven and three unless we're obliged to."
After lunch, Colonel Narfield, foregoing his customary "forty
winks," showed the new arrivals round the place. The house was
solidly constructed of teak with corrugated iron outside. The roof
was partly thatch and partly "tin." It was not a picturesque
building by any means, although the broad stoep saved it from utter
ugliness. It was long and rambling, and with the exception of the
right wing, was one-storeyed.
In front of the house was a wide courtyard; on the back were the
stables, stores, and workshops. The whole was surrounded by a
formidable-looking fence with a bank of earth on the inside and a
six-feet ditch without.
The motor garage was empty for obvious reasons, but in the stable
were six "salted" horses and four trek-oxen, the remainder being on
their way from Tabora with the chums' luggage.
In the workshops, which were well equipped both for iron and
woodwork, a dozen natives were diligently at work under the
supervision of McFraser. Adjoining the shop was a spacious
laboratory.
"This is where you will spend a good many of your working hours,"
observed Colonel Narfield. "Of course that doesn't mean that you
won't get out-door work--far from it. We've got to make a complete
survey of the Rubera Valley, which is almost entirely in this
estate. It will have to be mapped out, photographed, and recorded
before we tackle the task of mining gold. As the result of
preliminary investigations, I find that the district promises to be
rich in gold, both in reefs and sand."
He went on to explain how gold is collected from alluvium by means
of hydraulic washings, and the various artifices used to render the
operation more prolific and profitable. He explained, also, how gold
is obtained from auriferous quartz, the broken ore being passed
through a "stamp-battery," and the precious metal is then extracted
by a chemical process.
"And what is the stockade for?" asked Tiny. "It doesn't seem high
enough to keep out lions."
"A lion could leap over it," replied Colonel Narfield, "but it's
hardly likely to do so, especially when there is plenty of food to
be found outside. As a matter of fact this place was built under Hun
supervision. It was at one time a fortified outpost."
"Against the Makoh'lenga?" asked Colin.
Herbert Narfield smiled.
"You seem to have Makoh'lenga on the brain," he remarked. "It would
be interesting to know what your friend Van der Wyck actually did
tell you."