river was high
enough that a tug pulling barges could navigate, by slow stages, down to
Kabara. By this time, one or two jars had been broken by inexpert
handling and more pilfered. In Kabara they were packed onto a camel and
taken to Timbuktu and delivered to the missionary. Total time elapsed
since leaving Iowa? Two years. Total number of jars that got through?
One.

Isobel looked at Homer Crawford when he finished the story, and laughed.
"Why in the world didn't that missionary society refuse the old lady's
gift?"

He laughed in return and shrugged. "They couldn't. She might get into a
huff and not mention them in her will. Missionary societies can't afford
to discourage gifts."

She made her selection from the menu, and told the waiter in French, and
then settled back. She resumed the conversation. "The cost of
maintaining a missionary in this sort of country must have been
fantastic."

"Um-m-m," Crawford growled. "I sometimes wonder how many millions upon
millions of dollars, pounds and francs have been plowed into this
continent on such projects. This particular missionary wasn't a medical
man and didn't even run a school and in the six years he was here didn't
make a single convert."

Isobel said, "Which brings us to our own pet projects. Homer--I can call
you Homer, I suppose, being your brand new secretary...."

He grinned at her. "I'll make that concession."

"... What's your own dream?"

He broke some bread, automatically doing it with his left hand, as
prescribed in the Koran. They both noticed it, and both laughed.

"I'm conditioned," he said.

"Me, too," Isobel admitted. "It's all I can do to use a knife and fork."

He went back to her question, scowling. "My dream? I don't know. Right
now I feel a little depressed about it all. When Elmer Allen spoke about
spending the rest of our lives on this job, I suddenly realized that was
about it. And, you know"--he looked up at her--"I don't particularly
like Africa. I'm an American."

She looked at him oddly. "Then why stay here?"

"Because there's so much that needs to be done."

"Yes, you're right and what Cliff Jackson said to the doctor was
correct, too. We all do what we must do and what we can do."

"Well, that brings us back to your question. What is my own dream? I'm
afraid I'm too far along in life to acquire new ones, and my basic dream
is an American one."

"And that is--?" Isobel prompted.

He shrugged again, slightly uncomforta