e tiny ticket office like the
rush to get through turnstiles at a football game at home, only that
the crowd was more polyglot and less good-natured.

Coutlass, his Greek friend and the Goanese being old travelers on that
route were out of the train first, first into the room, and first
supplied with breakfast. Fred and I were nearly last. Brown of Lumbwa
refused to leave his berth but lay moaning of his wrongs, and the
iniquity of drink not based on whisky. I missed Will in the scramble,
and although it was nearly half an hour before I got served I did not
catch sight of him in all that time.

I counted eleven nations taking tea in that tiny room and there were
members of yet other tribes strolling the platform, holding themselves
aloof with the strange pride of the pariah the wide world over.

When Will came in he was grinning, and his ears seemed to stick out
more than usual, as they do when he is pleased with himself.

"Didn't I say fat Johnson was ours if we'd play our cards right?" he
demanded.

"You mean Hassan?"

"He'd had no breakfast. He'd had no supper. He had no money. The
Greeks took away what little money he did have on the pretext that he
might buy a return ticket and desert them. They seem to think that a
day or two's starvation might make him good and amenable. I found him
trying to beg a bite from a full-blooded Arab, and say! they're a
loving lot. The Arab spat in his eye! I offered to buy him eats but
he didn't dare come in here for fear the Greeks 'ud thrash him, so I
slipped him ten rupees for himself and he's the gratefulest fat black
man you ever set eyes on. You bet it takes food and lots of it to keep
that belly of his in shape. There's a back door to this joint. He
slipped round behind and bribed the babu to feed him on the rear step,
me standing guard at the corner to keep Greeks at bay. He's back in
the car now, playing possum."

"Let's trade him for Brown of Lumbwa," suggested Fred genially. "Call
him into our car and kick Brown out!"

"Trade nothing! I tell you the man is ours! Call him, and he'll
bargain. Let him be, and the next time the Greeks ill-treat him he'll
come straight to us in hope we'll show him kindness."

"Swallow your tea quickly, Solomon!" Fred advised him. "There goes the
whistle!"

It was fresh tea, just that minute made for him. Will gulped down the
scalding stuff and had to be thumped on the back according to Fred.
With eyes filled with