derstands that a Kroo boy is
as much at home in the sea as on shore, but these boys were neither
in the sea nor on shore. They were balancing themselves on blocks of
slippery wood that weighed a ton, but which were hurled about by the
great waves as though they were life-belts. All night the hammering
of the logs made the ship echo like a monster drum, and all day
without an instant's pause each log reared and pitched, spun like a
barrel, dived like a porpoise, or, broadside, battered itself
against the iron plates. But, no matter what tricks it played, a
Kroo boy rode it as easily as though it were a horse in a
merry-go-round.

It was a wonderful exhibition. It furnished all the thrills that one
gets when watching a cowboy on a bucking bronco, or a trained seal.
Again and again a log, in wicked conspiracy with another log, would
plan to entice a Kroo boy between them, and smash him. At the sight
the passengers would shriek a warning, the boy would dive between
the logs, and a mass of twelve hundred pounds of mahogany would
crash against a mass weighing fifteen hundred with a report like
colliding freight cars.

And then, as, breathless, we waited to see what once was a Kroo boy
float to the surface, he would appear sputtering and grinning, and
saying to us as clearly as a Kroo smile can say it: "He never
touched me!"

[Illustration: A Log of Mahogany Jammed in the Anchor Chains.]

Two days after we had stored away the mahogany we anchored off
Duala, the capital of the German Cameroons. Duala is built upon a
high cliff, and from the water the white and yellow buildings with
many pillars gave it the appearance of a city. Instead, it is a
clean, pretty town. With the German habit of order, it has been laid
out like barracks, but with many gardens, well-kept, shaded streets,
and high, cool houses, scientifically planned to meet the
necessities of the tropics. At Duala the white traders and officials
were plump and cheerful looking, and in the air there was more of
prosperity than fever. The black and white sentry boxes and the
native soldiers practising the stork march of the Kaiser's army were
signs of a rigid military rule, but the signs of Germany's efforts
in trade were more conspicuous. Nowhere on the coast did we see as
at Duala such gorgeous offices as those of the great trading house
of Woermann, the hated rivals of "Sir Alfred," such carved
furniture, such shining brass railings, and nowhere else did we see