the land of footprints-第34节

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sheep　or　the　like。　These　he　furnished。　When　we　left　we　made　him　a　present　of　a　few　beads；　a　knife；　a　blanket　or　such　according　to　the　value　of　his　contribution。

To　me　these　encounters　were　some　of　the　most　interesting　of　our　many　experiences；　for　each　man　differed　radically　from　every　other　in　his　conceptions　of　ceremony；　in　his　ideas；　and　in　his　methods。　Our　coming　was　a　good　deal　of　an　event；　always；　and　each　chief；　according　to　his　temperament　and　training；　tried　to　do　things　up　properly。　And　in　that　attempt　certain　basic　traits　of　human　nature　showed　in　the　very　strongest　relief。　Thus　there　are　three　points　of　view　to　take　in　running　any　spectacle：　that　of　the　star　performer；　the　stage　manager；　or　the　truly　artistic。　We　encountered　well…marked　specimens　of　each。　I　will　tell　you　about　them。

The　star　performer　knew　his　stagecraft　thoroughly；　and　in　the　exposition　of　his　knowledge　he　showed　incidentally　how　truly　basic　are　the　principles　of　stagecraft　anywhere。

We　were　seated　under　a　tree　near　the　banks　of　a　stream　eating　our　lunch。　Before　us　appeared　two　tall　and　slender　youths；　wreathed　in　smiles；　engaging；　and　most　attentive　to　the　small　niceties　of　courtesy。　We　returned　their　greeting　from　our　recumbent　positions；　whereupon　they　made　preparation　to　squat　down　beside　us。

〃Are　you　sultans？〃　we　demanded　sternly；　〃that　you　attempt　to　sit　in　Our　Presence；〃　and　we　lazily　kicked　the　nearest。

Not　at　all　abashed；　but　favourably　impressed　with　our　transcendent　importance…as　we　intended…they　leaned　gracefully　on　their　spears　and　entered　into　conversation。　After　a　few　trifles　of　airy　persiflage　they　got　down　to　business。

〃This；〃　said　they；　indicating　the　tiny　flat；　〃is　the　most　beautiful　place　to　camp　in　all　the　mountains。〃

We　doubted　it。

〃Here　is　excellent　water。〃

We　agreed　to　that。

〃And　there　is　no　more　water　for　a　journey。〃

〃You　are　liars；〃　we　observed　politely。

〃And　near　is　the　village　of　our　chief；　who　is　a　great　warrior；　and　will　bring　you　many　presents；　the　greatest　man　in　these　parts。〃

〃Now　you're　getting　to　it；〃　we　observed　in　English；　〃you　want　trade。〃　Then　in　Swahili；　〃We　shall　march　two　hours　longer。〃

After　a　few　polite　phrases　they　went　away。　We　finished　lunch；　remounted；　and　rode　up　the　trail。　At　the　edge　of　the　canyon　we　came　to　a　wide　clearing；　at　the　farther　side　of　which　was　evidently　the　village　in　question。　But　the　merry　villagers；　down　to　the　last　toro；　were　drawn　up　at　the　edge　of　the　track　in　a　double　line　through　which　we　rode。　They　were　very　wealthy　savages；　and　wore　it　all。　Bright　neck；　arm；　and　leg　ornaments；　yards　and　yards　of　cowry　shells　in　strings；　blue　beads　of　all　sizes　（blue　beads　were　evidently　〃in〃）；　odd　scraps　and　shapes　of　embroidered　skins；　clean　shaves　and　a　beautiful　polish　characterized　this　holiday　gathering。　We　made　our　royal　progress　between　the　serried　ranks。　About　eight　or　ten　seconds　after　we　had　passed　the　last　villager…just　the　proper　dramatic　pause；　you　observe…the　bushes　parted　and　a　splendid；　straight；　springy　young　man　came　into　view　and　stepped　smilingly　across　the　space　that　separated　us。　And　about　eight　or　ten　seconds　after　his　emergence…again　just　the　right　dramatic　pause…the　bushes　parted　again　to　give　entrance　to　four　of　the　quaintest　little　dolls　of　wives。　These　advanced　all　abreast；　parted；　and　took　up　positions　two　either　side　the　smiling　chief。　This　youth　was　evidently　in　the　height　of　fashion；　his　hair　braided　in　a　tight　queue　bound　with　skin；　his　ears　dangling　with　ornaments；　heavy　necklaces　around　his　neck；　and　armlets　etc。；　ad　lib。　His　robe　was　of　fine　monkey　skin　embroidered　with　rosettes　of　beads；　and　his　spear　was　very　long；　bright　and　keen。　He　was　tall　and　finely　built　carried　himself　with　a　free；　lithe　swing。　As　the　quintette　came　to　halt；　the　villagers　fell　silent　and　our　shauri　began。

We　drew　up　and　dismounted。　We　all　expectorated　as　gentlemen。

〃These；〃　said　he　proudly；　〃are　my　beebees。〃

We　replied　that　they　seemed　like　excellent　beebees　and　politely　inquired　the　price　of　wives　thereabout；　and　also　the　market　for　totos。　He　gave　us　to　understand　that　such　superior　wives　as　these　brought　three　cows　and　twenty　sheep　apiece；　but　that　you　could　get　a　pretty　good　toto　for　half　a　rupee。

〃When　we　look　upon　our　women；〃　he　concluded　grandly；　〃we　find　them　good；　but　when　we　look　upon　the　white　women　they　are　as　nothing！〃　He　completely　obliterated　the　poor　little　beebees　with　a　magnificent　gesture。　They　looked　very　humble　and　abashed。　I　was；　however；　a　bit　uncertain　as　to　whether　this　was　intended　as　a　genuine　tribute　to　Billy；　or　was　meant　to　console　us　for　having　only　one　to　his　four。

Now　observe　the　stagecraft　of　all　this：　entrance　of　diplomats；　preliminary　conversation　introducing　the　idea　of　the　greatness　of　N'Zahgi　（for　that　was　his　name）；　chorus　of　villagers；　and；　as　climax；　dramatic　entrance　of　the　hero　and　heroines。　It　was　pretty　well　done。

Again　we　stopped　about　the　middle　of　the　afternoon　in　an　opening　on　the　rounded　top　of　a　hill。　While　waiting　for　the　safari　to　come　up；　Billy　wandered　away　fifty　or　sixty　yards　to　sit　under　a　big　tree。　She　did　not　stay　long。　Immediately　she　was　settled；　a　dozen　women　and　young　girls　surrounded　her。　They　were　almost　uproariously　good…natured；　but　Billy　was　probably　the　first　white　woman　they　had　ever　seen；　and　they　intended　to　make　the　most　of　her。　Every　item　of　her　clothes　and　equipment　they　examined　minutely；　handled　and　discussed。　When　she　told　them　with　great　dignity　to　go　away；　they　laughed　consumedly；　fairly　tumbling　into　each　other's　arms　with　excess　of　joy。　Billy　tried　to　gather　her　effects　for　a　masterly　retreat；　but　found　the　press　of　numbers　too　great。　At　last　she　had　to　signal　for　help。　One　of　us　wandered　over　with　a　kiboko　with　which　lightly　he　flicked　the　legs　of　such　damsels　as　he　could　reach。　They　scattered　like　quail；　laughing　hilariously。　Billy　was　escorted　back　to　safety。

Shortly　after　the　Chief　and　his　Prime　Minister　came　in。　He　was　a　little　old　gray…haired　gentleman；　as　spry　as　a　cricket；　quite　nervous；　and　very　chatty。　We　indicated　our　wants　to　him；　and　he　retired　after　enunciating　many　words。　The　safari　came　in；　made　camp。　We　had　tea　and　a　bath。　The　darkness　fell；　and　still　no　Chief；　no　milk；　no　firewood；　no　promises　fulfilled。　There　were　plenty　of　natives　around　camp；　but　when　we　suggested　that　they　get　out　and　rustle　on　our　behalf；　they　merely　laughed　good…naturedly。　We　seriously　contemplated　turning　the　whole　lot　out　of　camp。

Finally　we　gave　it　up；　and　sat　down　to　our　dinner。　It　was　now　quite　dark。　The　askaris　had　built　a　little　campfire　out　in　front。

Then；　far　in　the　distance　of　the　jungle's　depths；　we　heard　a　faint　measured　chanting　as　of　many　people　coming　nearer。　From　another　direction　this　was　repeated。　The　two　processions　approached　each　other；　their　paths　converged；　the　double　chanting　became　a　chorus　that　grew　moment　by　moment。　We　heard　beneath　the　wild　weird　minors　the　rhythmic　stamping　of　feet；　and　the　tapping　of　sticks。　The　procession　debouched　from　the　jungle's　edge　into　the　circle　of　the　firelight。　Our　old　chief　led；　accompanied　by　a　bodyguard　in　all　the　panoply　of　war：　ostrich　feather　circlets　enclosing　the　head　and　face；　shields　of　bright　heraldry；　long　glittering　spears。　These　were　followed　by　a　dozen　of　the　quaintest　solemn　dolls　of　beebees　dressed　in　all　the　white　cowry　shells；　beads　and　brass　the　royal　treasury　afforded；　very　earnest；　very　much　on　inspection；　every　little　head　uplifted；　singing　away　just　as　hard　as　ever　they　could。　Each　carried　a　gourd　of　milk；　a　bunch　of　bananas；　some　sugarcane；　yams　or　the　like。　Straight　to　the　fire　marched　the　pageant。　Then　the　warriors　dividing　right　and　left；　drew　up　facing　each　other　in　two　lines；　struck　their　spears　upright　in　the　ground；　and　stood　at　attention。　The　quaint　brown　little　women　lined　up　to　close　the　end　of　this　hollow　square；　of　which　our　group　was；　roughly　speaking；　the　fourth　side。　Then　all　came　to　attention。　The　song　now　rose　to　a　wild　and　ecstatic　minor　chanting。　The　beebees；　still　singing；　one　by　one　cast　their　burdens　between　the　files　and　at　our　feet　in　the　middle　of　the　hollow　square。　Then　they　continued　their　chant；　singing　away　at　the　tops　of　their　little　lungs；　their　eyes　and　teeth　showing；　their　pretty　bodies　held　rigidly　upright。　The　warriors；　very　erect　and　military；　stared　straight　ahead。

And　the　chief？　Was　he　the　centre　of　the　show；　the　important　leading　man；　to　the　contemplation　of　whom　all　these　glories　led？　Not　at　all！　This　particular　chief　did　not　have　the　soul　of　a　leading　man；　but　rather　the　soul　of　a　stage　manager。　Quite　forgetful　of　himself　and　his　part　in　the　spectacle；　his　brow　furrowed　with　anxiety；　he　was　flittering　from　one　to　another　of　the　performers。　He　listened　carefully　to　each　singer　in　turn；　holding　his　hand　behind　his　ear　to　catch　the　individual　note；　striking　one　on　the　shoulder　in　admonition；　nodding　approval　at　another。　He　darted　unexpectedly　across　to　scrutinize　a　warrior；　in　the　chance　of　catching　a　flicker　of　the　eyelid　even。　Nary　a　flicker！　They　did　their　stage　manager　credit；　and　stood　like　magnificent　bronzes。　He　even　ran　across　to　peer　into　our　own　faces　to　see　how　we　liked　it。

With　a　sudden　crescendo　the　music　stopped。　I