“’Ere he is, sir!”

“I suppose you know, my man, that I have magisterial powers on this railway?” said the official.

Coutlass glowered but said nothing.

“This is not the first time you have made yourself a nuisance.  You broke dishes the last time you were here.”

“That is long ago,” Coutlass objected.  “That was on the day the place was first opened to the public.  There was a celebration.  Every one was drunk.”

“You broke plates and refused to pay the damage!’

“Officials were drunk.  I saw them!”

“The damage amounted to seventeen rupees, eight annas.”

“Gassharamminy!  All the crockery from Mombasa to Nairobi isn’t worth that amount!  I shall not pay!”

“Now there’s another bill for those drinks you and your friends stole when passengers’ backs were turned.  I saw you do it!”

“Why didn’t you object at the time?” sneered Coutlass.

“Here is the bill:  twenty-seven rupees, twelve annas.  Total, forty-five rupees, four annas.  You may make the manager a present of the odd sum for his injured feelings, and call it an even fifty.  Settle now, or wait here for the down-train and go to jail in Mombasa!”

“Wait in this place?” asked Coutlass, aghast.

“Where else?  There’ll be a down passenger train in a week.”

“I pay!” said the Greek, with a hideous grimace.

“Take the irons off him, then.”

The guard unlocked the handcuffs and Coutlass began to fumble for a money-bag.

“Give me a receipt!” he demanded, thumbing out the money.

“You are the receipt!” said the official.  “An Englishman would have been sent to jail with a fine, and have paid the bill into the bargain.  You’re treated leniently because you can’t be expected to understand decent behavior.  You’re expected to learn, however.  Next time you will catch it hot!”

“All aboard!” called the guard cheerfully.  “All aboard!”

“Tears, idle tears!” said Brown of Lumbwa, taking my arm and Fred’s.

“Thass too true—­too true!  They’d have jailed an Englishman—­me, f’rinstance.  One little spree, an’ they’d put me in the Fort!  One li’l indishcresshion an’ they’d jug me for shix months!  Him they let go wi’ a admonisshion!  It’s ‘nother case o’ Barabbas, an’ a great shame, but you can’t change the English.  They’re ingcorridgible!  Brown o’ Lumbwa’s my name,” he added by way of afterthought.

“Take advice and get under blankets afore you go to sleep, gents!” warned the guard.  All windows were once more opened wide, and every one was panting.

“A job on this ’ere line’s a circus!” he grinned.  “I’m lucky if there’s only one fight before Nairobi!  ’Ave your blankets ready, gents!  Cover yourselves afore you sleep!”

That sounded like a joke.  The sweat poured from every one in streams.  The hot hair cushions were intolerable.  The dust gathered from the desert stirred and hung, and there was neither air to breathe nor coolness under all those overhanging mountains.