ep for long at a time in very hot weather.

"Let's stay in Nairobi" he said, "at least until Courtney sends that
boy he promised us. We can put in the time asking questions, and
then--"

"What then?" grumbled Will.

"There may be truth in what Brown of Lumbwa says about a dead-line."

"Dead-line?"

"Beyond which the king's writ doesn't run."

"Betcherlife there's truth in it!" Brown mumbled from the upper berth.

Will exploded silently, going through the motions of reeling off all
the bad language he knew--not an insignificant performance.

"He's really asleep now," I said, standing on the lower berth and
lifting the man's eyelid to make sure.

"Who cares?" said Will. "He's heard. We've given the game away. The
woman heard Courtney shout about how to reach Mount Elgon. So did this
sharp. Now he hears Fred talk about dead-lines and the king's writ and
breaking laws! The game's up! Me for the down-train and a steamer!"

We smoked in silence, rendered more depressing by the deepening gloom
outside. With the evening it grew no cooler. What little wind there
was followed the train, so that we traveled in stagnation. Utter
darkness brought no respite, but the fascination of flitting shadows
and the ever-new mystery of African night. The train drew up at last
in a station in the shadow of great overleaning mountains, and the heat
shut down on us like hairy coverings. We seemed to breathe through
thicknesses of cloth, and the very trees that cast black shadow on the
platform ends were stifling for lack of air.

"One hour for dinner!" called the guard, walking limply along the train.
"Just an hour for dinner! Dinner waiting!"

He was not at all a usual-looking guard. He was dressed in riding
breeches and puttee leggings, and wore a worn-out horsey air as if in
protest against the obligation to work in a black man's land. In
countries where the half-breed and the black man live for and almost
monopolize government employment few white men take kindly to braid and
brass buttons. That fellow's contempt for his job was equaled only by
the babu station master's scorn of him and his own for the station
master. Yet both men did their jobs efficiently.

"Only an hour for dinner, gents--train starts on time!"

"Guard!" called a female voice we all three recognized--"Guard! Come
here at once, I want you!"

We left Brown of Lumbwa snoring a good imitation of the Battle of
Waterloo on the upper berth, and