at together. The time to start arrived and passed; hot passengers
continued spurting for the train at intervals--all sorts of
passengers--English, Mauritius--French, Arab, Goanese, German, Swahili,
Indian, Biluchi, one Japanese, two Chinamen, half-breeds,
quarter-breeds of all the hues from ivory to dull red, guinea-yellow,
and bleached out black; but the second-class compartment facing our
door remained empty. There was a name on the card in the little metal
reservation frame, and every passenger who could read English glanced
at it, but nobody came to claim it even when the engine's extra shrill
screaming and at last the ringing of a bell warned Courtney that time
was really up, and he got out on the platform.

"Good-by," he said through the window. "I've done what I could to bring
you luck. Don't be tempted to engage the first servants who apply to
you at Nairobi. If you wait there a week I'll send my Kazimoto to you;
he's a very good gun-bearer. He'll be out of a job when I'm gone. I
shall give him his fare to Nairobi. Engage him if you want a
dependable boy, but remember the rule about dogs: a good one has one
master! I don't mean Kazimoto is a dog--far from it. I mean, treat
him as reasonably as you would a dog, and he'll serve you well. He's a
first-class Nyamwezi, from German East. Oh, and one more scrap of
advice--":

He came close to the window, but at that moment the engine gave a final
scream and really started. Passengers yelled farewells. The engine's
apoplectic coughs divided the din into spasms, and there came a great
bellowing from the ticket office. He could not speak softly and be
heard at all. Louder he had to speak, and then louder, ending almost
with a shout.

"The best way to Elgon is by way of Kisumu and Mumias, whatever anybody
else may tell you. And if you find the stuff, or any of it," (he was
running beside the train now)--"be in no hurry to advertise the fact!
Go and make terms first with government--then--after you've made
terms--tell 'em you've found it! Find the stuff--make terms--then
produce what you've found! Get my meaning? Good-by, all. Good luck!"

We left him behind then, wiping the sweat from his wrinkled, freckled
forehead, gazing after us as if we had all been lifelong friends of
his. He made no distinction between us and Fred, but was equally
anxious to serve us all.

"If that man isn't white, who is?" demanded Will, and then there was
new interest.