Tom Burnaby: A Story of Uganda and the Great Congo Forest

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER I

  Fitting Out an Expedition

  The Major--A New Friend--By Rail to Uganda--Dr. O'Brien IntroducesHimself--The Major Orders a Retreat--Left Behind

  A suit of boating flannels and a straw hat are no doubt a convenient,cool, and comfortable outfit for a July day on the Thames, but they failmiserably to meet the case on an average hot morning in Central Africa.So Tom Burnaby found as he walked slowly through Kisumu, stopping everynow and again to mop his face and wish he were well out of it. If hisdress had not betrayed him, his undisguised interest in the scene wouldin itself have bespoken the "griffin" to the most casual observer. Thefew Europeans whom he met eyed him with looks half of amusement, half ofconcern. One advanced as if to address him, then repented of theimpulse and passed on.

  Suddenly his attention was arrested by a noise ahead, graduallyincreasing in intensity as he approached. "The queerest noise you everheard in your life," he wrote in a letter to a chum at home. "Imaginesome score of huge ginger-beer bottles turned topsy-turvy and the fizzgurgling out, with a glug, glug, glug, and a sort of gigantic fatchuckle at the end,--then more glugging and chuckling, and chuckling andglugging. I was wondering what it meant, when suddenly I came to a hugeshed, and then I saw the cause of all the row. About a hundred natives,as black as your hat, their skins shining like polished bronze, wereworking away at baggage and packages of all sorts, rolling up canvas,packing boxes and bales, tugging at ropes, and all the time jabberingand cackling and laughing and glug-glugging like a cageful of monkeys.

  "I stood still and watched them for a minute, and then there was asudden lull in the uproar, and I heard my old uncle's voice for thefirst time. There he was, the dear old chap, perched on a pile ofammunition-boxes, and the language he was using was evidently so warmthat it was a wonder the whole show didn't blow up. I could only makeout a word here and there, most of it was double Dutch to me; butwhatever it was, it made those poor black fellows bustle for all theywere worth. Then in the middle of his address the old boy suddenlycaught sight of my unlucky self. You should have seen the expression onhis face! He stopped as if a live shell had pitched into the shed;and--well, what happened then must keep till our next meeting. I couldnever do justice to the interview in a letter."

  To say that Major John Burnaby was surprised at the sudden appearance ofhis nephew in Kisumu only feebly expresses his state of mind. After afew seconds of speechlessness, his feelings found vent in the deliberateexclamation:

  "Well--I'm--hanged!"

  Tom stood in front of him, looking very warm. There was anotherembarrassing silence.

  "What do you mean by this?" were the major's next words.

  "I really couldn't help it, Uncle Jack."

  "Couldn't help it!" gasped the major.

  "Oh well, you know what I mean! I saw in the papers that a column wasgoing up to catch the beggars who killed Captain Boyes, and that you hadgot the job. 'Uncle Jack,' I thought, 'has got his chance at last, andI'm going to be there.' And here I am!"

  "I see you are! And you mean to say you have left your work, thrown itall up, ruined your career, to come on a wild-goose chase like this?You'll go home by the next boat, sir."

  "Don't say that, Uncle. I know it's sudden, but you see there was notime to lose. I couldn't write; I should never have got your answer intime; and you surely couldn't expect me to stop in a grimy engineeringshop on the Clyde when my only uncle had got his chance at last! I mustsee it through with you, Uncle Jack."

  "Must! must!" repeated the major. "Tom, I'm surprised at you--andannoyed, sir--seriously annoyed at your folly. The absurdity of it all!You can't join the expedition. It's against the regulations, for onething; this is a soldier's job, and civilians would only be in the way.Besides, you're not seasoned; the climate would bowl you over in notime, and you're too young to peg out comfortably. What's more, you'dbe no earthly use. Oh! I can't argue it with you," pursued the major,as Tom was about to protest; "you're demoralizing my men. Cut off to mybungalow, and keep out of mischief till I have done with them. Then Ishall have something to say to you."

  Tom looked pleadingly for an instant into his uncle's face, but findingno promise of relenting there, he turned slowly on his heel and walkedaway.

  "So much for that! I was half afraid I'd catch it," he said to himself."My word, isn't it hot!"

  Tom was only eighteen, but he had already had disappointments enough, hethought, to last him a lifetime. Ever since he could remember, he hadset his heart on being a soldier like his uncle Jack; but the suddendeath of his father, a quiet country parson, had left him with only afew hundreds for his whole capital, and he had perforce to give up allideas of going to Sandhurst. At this critical moment an opening offereditself in the works of an engineering firm on the Clyde, the head ofwhich was an old school chum of his uncle's. It was Hobson's choice.He went to Glasgow, and there for a few months felt utterly forlorn andmiserable. Then he pulled himself together, and began to take aninterest even in the grimy work of the fitting-shop. He worked well,went through various departments, and was gaining experience in thedraughtsman's office when he read one day in the paper that his unclewas appointed to the command of a punitive expedition in the UgandaProtectorate. The news revived his old yearnings; after one restlessnight he drew out enough to pay his passage and buy an outfit, andbooked himself on the first P. and O. steamer for Suez.

  Among his fellow-passengers the only one with whom he had much to do wasa plump German trader, who joined at Gibraltar from a Hamburg liner. Heamused Tom with his outbursts of patriotic fervour, alternating withperiods of devotion to the interests of his firm. At one moment he wassoaring aloft with the German eagle; at the next he was quoting his bestprice for pig-iron. Tom found him useful to practise his German on. Hehad always had a turn for languages; indeed, his only distinctions atschool, besides his being the best bat in the eleven and a safe man ingoal, were won in German and French. Naturally, he soon scrapedacquaintance also with the chief engineer, and the pleasantest hours ofthe voyage out were those he spent in the engine-room, where he showedan unusually intelligent interest in the details of the machinery. Hechanged ship at Suez, and was heartily glad when, on awaking onemorning, he caught sight of the white houses of Mombasa gleaming amidthe dark-green bush.

  The first thing he did on landing was to enquire the whereabouts of theexpedition. He learned that it was fitting out at Kisumu, six hundredmiles inland, on the shore of the Victoria Nyanza, and that he couldreach the terminus at Port Florence by railway in two days. There beingno train till next morning, he swallowed his impatience and roamed aboutthe town. Amid the usual signs of Arab ruin and neglect he sawevidences of a new life and activity. He could not but admire thesplendid harbour, in which a couple of British cruisers were lying atanchor; he climbed up to the old dismantled Portuguese fort, andexamined every nook and cranny of it; he strolled about through thenarrow, twisted streets, finding much to interest him at everystep--grave Arab booth-keepers, sleek and wily Persians, lank Indiancoolies, and negroes of every race and size in every variety of undress.

  He put up for the night at the Grand Hotel. At dinner he was faced byan elderly gentleman with ruddy cheeks, side whiskers, and a shiny pate,who gave him a casual glance, but, with the Englishman's usualtaciturnity, for some time said nothing. When, however, he hadcomfortably settled his soup, the old gentleman held his glass of claretto the light, looked at Tom over the rims of his spectacles, and said:

  "Just out, sir?"

  "Yes; I landed this morning."

  "H'm! Government appointment, sir?"

  "Well no, not exactly. The fact is, I've come out to see my uncle."

  "H'm! Many boys do; hard up, I suppose," said the old gentleman underhis breath. "Name, sir?"

  "Burnaby--Tom Burnaby. My uncle is Major Burnaby of the Guides."

  "Might have known it, h'm! you're as like as two tom-cats. JackBurn
aby's a fine fellow, sir; I know him. Fine country this. We madeit a fine country. Ain't you proud to be an Englishman? 'Tis fourhundred years or so since Vasco da Gama--heard of him, I suppose?--cameashore here on his famous voyage to India. To be exact, it was the year1497. It was a fine place then; did a fine trade, sir. He didn't getbacked up. No stamina in those Portuguese. Suffer from jumps, don'tyou know. Arabs got in; consequence, rack and ruin. Decay, sir; dryrot and mildew. We stepped in somewhere in the twenties, andthen--stepped out again. Stupid! Now we've got our foot in, and begadwe won't lift it again, or I don't know Joe Chamberlain. I know him.H'm!"

  The old fellow's short snaps of sentences, and the little gasps he gaveat intervals, rather tickled Tom.

  "Yes," he continued, "the Sultan of Zanzibar in 1888 ceded itprovisionally to the British East Africa Company. They were madedefinite masters of the place two years later, and also put inpossession of a vast tract of country extending four hundred miles alongthe coast. H'm!"

  At this Tom began to fear that he was in for a lecture, but he wasreassured the next moment.

  "Jack Burnaby's at Kisumu, six hundred miles up the line. There's a finething for you, now--this railway. Suppose you are going up to-morrow?We're coming on next week. Well, a word of advice, h'm! Don't gothird-class. Nobody goes third-class. Blacks, you know--and lions. Alion boarded the train the other day, and swallowed two niggers in awinking. Strong-flavoured meat, h'm! Lions never touch first-classpassengers--never tackled me! Well, I'll be glad to see Jack Burnabyagain. He'll remember Ted Barkworth; yes, begad, and our littlediversion in Tokio in 95. Now, sir, will you come and smoke a cigarwith me? Don't smoke? Well, well, none the worse for it, at present,h'm! See you on the veranda, no doubt."

  Mr. Barkworth went off to the smoking-room. As Tom got up, he noticed ared-covered book lying on the chair next to the one occupied by histalkative neighbour. He picked it up, intending to give it to one ofthe waiters, and casually turned over the leaves. The book openedrather easily at one place, and Tom, glancing at the page, saw: "TheSultan of Zanzibar in 1888 ceded it provisionally to the British EastAfrica Company. They were made definite masters of the place two yearslater, and also--" He read no farther; he had just recognized thepassage which Mr. Barkworth had reeled off so glibly, and was chucklingat having discovered the source of the old man's information, when hisglee was checked by a pleasant voice at his elbow saying:

  "Excuse me, but have you seen a red-covered guide-book, left on one ofthe chairs?"

  Tom straightened his face, and, turning, saw a pretty girl of someseventeen summers, looking very dainty and bewitching in her plain whitefrock. He closed the book, and held it out without a word.

  "Oh, thank you!" said the girl. "Poor Father is always so careless."

  And with a smile she flitted out of the room.

  Later in the evening, when Tom strolled on to the veranda, Mr. Barkworthcame up to him.

  "H'm! come and let me introduce you to my daughter, sir. Lilian, Mr.Burnaby, nephew of my old friend Major Jack."

  Lilian Barkworth gave Tom a friendly little nod and smile ofrecognition.

  "My daughter, you know, Mr. Burnaby, wants to see the world--veryrestless, h'm! keeps her poor old father constantly on the trot. Twodays in one place, then off we go: here to-day and gone to-morrow, h'm!But there's the admiral, I see--I know him; I must go and say how d'edo. Lilian, you may talk to Mr. Burnaby till nine o'clock. See youagain, sir."

  When he had gone over to speak to the admiral, Tom and Miss Barkworthlooked at each other and smiled.

  "Dear old Father! How deluded he is!" she said. "He firmly believes hescours the world for my benefit. I wouldn't undeceive him, but really,Mr. Burnaby, I would much rather live a quieter life. Now tell me, didhe quote the guidebook?"

  "Well, he did give me some historical information--"

  "Ah! I thought so. I fancied you were smiling when you had the book inyour hand. But he'll forget it all by to-morrow; he gets it up in fiveminutes and loses it in ten."

  "Here to-day and gone to-morrow," suggested Tom, and the littlequotation put them on good terms with each other, so that Tom wassurprised to find how quickly the evening had flown when Miss Barkworthby and by held out her hand and said that her time allowance hadexpired.

  He left Mombasa next morning before the Barkworths appeared. Thejourney on the single line of the Uganda railway was full of interest tohim, impatient as he was to arrive at his destination. The train passedthrough some of the most wonderful scenery to be found anywhere on theface of the globe. Here were huge boulders, poised as though by somegiant's hand, and the craters of long-extinct volcanoes; there, longstretches of open country, skirted by dense forests of acacias,banana-trees, and other tropical vegetation. Gazelles, giraffes,zebras, hartebeest sported in herds over the green plains; an occasionalbaboon was seen squatting on a branch; and here and there, by some lakeor riverside, hippopotamuses and rhinoceroses wallowed and revelled inthe shallows. Amid these signs of wild life appeared at intervals thestraw huts of a native village; or a shanty, roofed with corrugatediron, marked the coming of civilization and trade: and then, toweringhigh into the sky, rose the gigantic snow-capped form of MountKilimanjaro. The long journey came to an end at last, and Tom found hisuncle--only to meet with sore disappointment, as already related.

  He was still feeling rather downhearted as he walked towards PortFlorence in the sweltering heat. It was by this time mid-afternoon, andevery discreet person was indulging in siesta in the shade. Tom met noone but a few natives, dressed in little but hippo teeth and beadnecklaces, and he was wondering how to find his way to the major'sbungalow when his ear was caught by unmistakeable cries of pain.Turning a corner he saw a young black-follow writhing in the grip of aEuropean in light but dirty attire, who held his victim by his woollyhair, and was belabouring his bare back with a whip of rhinoceros hide.

  "Hi, you there? stop that!" cried Tom.

  The man looked up sharply, gave the interrupter one scowling glance;and, seeing only a stripling, laid on again.

  "D'you hear? Stop that!" shouted Tom, hurrying along till he camewithin arm's-length of the bully. "Drop that whip, or I'll knock youdown."

  The man, apparently a Portuguese of the low type that Portugal sends toher colonies, stared at him, spat out a curse, and raised his whip tostrike again. That instant Tom's right arm shot out straight from theshoulder, and before the cruel thong could descend again, the brutefound himself lying on his back in a pool of green mud. By the time hehad picked himself up the negro had slipped away, and soon put enoughground between himself and his tormentor to make pursuit hopeless.Quivering with passion the man drew a knife from his belt and glaredmenacingly at Tom, who stood with hot brow and clenched fists ready torepeat the blow. But the sound of the altercation had drawn a fewspectators to the spot, and, fearing the sure hand of British justice,the discomfited Portuguese furtively replaced his knife, and, withanother ferocious look at Tom, slunk away.

  "Fery goot, fery goot, my young friend," said a voice near Tom; "but youhafe soon forgot vun of my advice-vords."

  "Oh, it's you, is it, Herr Schwab?" said Tom, turning and recognizinghis fellow-passenger on the steamer.

  "Yes, it is me," replied the German. "Vat hafe I said? I hafe said:Before all zings, step never in betveen ze native and ze vite man. Zenative are all bad lot, as you say. Now you hafe vun enemy, my youngfriend."

  "Oh, that's all right! You couldn't expect me to look on and see thatmurderous brute ill-using the poor wretch?"

  The German shrugged.

  "Black is black, and business are business. Kindness all fery goot,courage equally all fery goot, but you should hafe--vat you call tact."

  "Tact! Tuts! An ounce of common-sense to begin with," broke in anothervoice. "Where did you get that fool of a hat? Come along, come along."

  Tom felt a firm hand on his sleeve, and, too much surprised to resist,he allowed himself to be dra
gged along by the new-comer, who did notstop till they reached the water's edge. There he stooped down andplucked a couple of large green leaves from a strange plant, and amoment later Tom found them flapping about his ears beneath his hat.

  "There, now you'll do," said his captor. "The idea of coming out andpractising boxing under an African sun in a three-and-sixpenny strawhat! Sure an' if I hadn't met you you would have been food for jackalsin twelve hours. Thank your stars you were taken in hand by Dr. CorneyO'Brien. And now, who are you?"

  The little man with the keen gray eyes and pleasant mouth looked up atTom and frowned.

  "A Burnaby, by the powers! And I never knew the major had a family.Ah, but you're a Burnaby, plain enough, whatever they christenedye--Tom, Dick, or Harry!"

  "Right first shot, Doctor," said Tom with a smile. "I'm Tom Burnaby, atyour service. Will you be good enough to direct me to my uncle'sbungalow?"

  "Will I? Indeed I will. Come along."

  Talking all the time, the little doctor led Tom in the direction of PortFlorence. A few minutes' walking brought them to the major's bungalow,a one-story building of wood, raised a few inches from the ground, witha neatly-thatched roof overhanging a sort of veranda. Tom was soonstretching his legs luxuriously in one of his uncle's comfortablechairs, and scanning the walls hung with small-arms, hunting trophies,and a few choice engravings.

  "Ah, this is nice!" he said. "Can I have a drink, Doctor?"

  "To be sure. What'll you have? Your uncle's burgundy is good. I canrecommend it."

  "Really, a drink of water would do me best just now."

  "Very well. Here, Saladin, cold water."

  The major-domo, a tall muscular Musoga, appeared with a carafe ofsparkling water.

  "Lucky you're this side of the counthry," the doctor went on. "For tenyears, d'ye know, I never wance touched water. 'Twas in Ould Calabar,where most of the dry land is swamp, and the rest mud, and the rule is,drink and die. But what are ye doing out here, my bhoy?"

  Tom told his story, the doctor breaking in every now and then withsympathetic little ejaculations.

  "'Tis hard luck; to be sure it is," he said, when Tom had told him ofhis uncle's blunt refusal to allow him to accompany the expedition."But the major's right, you know, and I couldn't venture any attempt topersuade'm. We call'm Ould Blazes, you see."

  "I couldn't ask you to, Doctor. I've come on a fool's errand, and haveonly myself to blame. I must just make the best of it. What is to beis to be."

  "That's right, now. And sure here's the major himself."

  "Pf! pf!" blew Major Burnaby, as he entered the room. "Glad that's overfor the day at any rate. You've got the young scamp in hand, I see,Corney. Tom, untwizzle that ringer; I must tub before I do anythingelse."

  Tom looked up to where his uncle was pointing, above his head, and sawthe wire of an electric bell twisted round a bracket on the wall. Hegot up and pressed the button, and the major-domo appeared.

  "Tub, Saladin," said the major. "And look here, this is my nephew; puthim up a bed and do him well."

  "All right, sah! all same for one," returned the negro cheerfully.

  In a few moments the major could be heard splashing and gasping in thenext room, and ere long he returned in mufti, looking cool andcomfortable in a suit of white ducks and a silk cummerbund. He askedthe doctor to stay to dinner, and Tom sat listening eagerly to hisseniors' conversation, and admiring his uncle's thorough grasp of eventhe minutest details of the expedition.

  It was to set out, he learned, in three or four days' time, some threehundred and fifty strong, from Port Florence, and was to cross theNyanza in steam launches. The only Europeans besides the major and Dr.O'Brien were Captain Lister and a subaltern, the non-commissionedofficers being trustworthy Soudanese. Their objective was the villageof a petty chief, about a hundred and fifty miles west of the Nyanza,who had revolted against British authority, and in concert with theremnants of an old Arab slave-dealing gang had raided his more peacefulneighbours. In the course of subsequent proceedings he hadtreacherously killed a British officer, and a punitive expedition becameinevitable. The greater part of the military forces of the Protectoratewere engaged in police work on the north-eastern frontier; but they werehastily recalled, and within a month, thanks to Major Burnaby's energy,the punitive column was ready to start. The stores for the expeditionwere collected at rail-head, and the major had been very busy day andnight in getting them up from the coast, and seeing that everythingpossible, to the smallest detail, was done to secure the safety andsuccess of the column.

  After the doctor had gone, the major sat for some minutes silentlypuffing his pipe, while Tom nervously turned over the leaves of amonth-old copy of the Times. At length the major laid down his pipe,cleared his throat, and began:

  "Look here, Tom, few words are best. I suppose you realize by this timethat you did a very foolish thing in coming out. What's more, it was avery inconsiderate thing. Here am I, with my hands full, toiling day andnight to straighten things out,--and you must come and complicatematters just as I'm driving in the last peg, and without a moment'swarning; in fact, making an attempt to force my hand! It was silly, itwas wrong, to say nothing of the waste of time when you ought to beworking at your profession, and the waste of money which you know aswell as I do you can't afford. There'd be a glimmer of excuse, perhaps,if I could make any use of you, and I'd stretch a point to do so; butit's entirely out of the question. I can't find any reason, not even apretence of one, for bringing you in. There is really nothing for youto do. So there is no help for it, and, as you can't possibly stayhere, and are bound to go back, you may as well go at once. If youreally and seriously think of choosing Africa for your career, there'llbe plenty of time to talk about that when you've finished your training;and we can go into it when I get home."

  The major relit his pipe, and hid his sympathetic features behind acloud of smoke. After a moment Tom said quietly:

  "I'm sorry, Uncle. I didn't see it from that point of view. I was anass. I'll go home and do my best."

  "That's right, my boy," said the major heartily. "It's no good cryingover spilt milk. I was young myself once; we all have to buy ourexperience, and 'pon my word I think you're getting yours pretty cheapafter all."

  He rose from his chair, and put his hand kindly on Tom's shoulder. "I'mgoing to turn in," he added; "have to be up at dawn. Call Saladin ifyou want anything. Good-night!"

  During the next few days Tom almost forgot his disappointment, so muchwas he interested in watching the final preparations. There were boxesand bales everywhere. Empty kerosene cans were shipped on the launches,to be filled with water when the force began its land march. Boxes ofammunition, tin-lined biscuit-boxes of provisions, a tent or two for theofficers, canvas bags and smaller cases for the medical stores, werecarried on board on the backs of stalwart negroes, and all their friendsand neighbours crowded around, gesticulating frantically in theirexcitement. It was all so novel that Tom had scarcely a minute toreflect on his hard luck; and, indeed, so far from sulking, he soughtevery opportunity of making himself useful, and was well pleased when hechanced to overhear his uncle one evening say to Dr. O'Brien:

  "'Pon my word, Corney, I'm sorry we can't take the boy. I like hisspirit. He's willing to turn his hand to anything, and has relieved meof quite a number of odd jobs during the past few days. But I don't seehow we can possibly take him, and in any case he will be better athome."

  The last day came. It was a fine Thursday in May. There was acrispness in the air that set the pulses beating faster and made lifeseem worth living indeed. Everything was done. The stores were wellstowed on board, the fighting-men and carriers had answered theroll-call, and the major, with a final survey, had assured himself thatnothing had been overlooked. The launches had been getting up steam foran hour or more, and the officers, having seen their men on board, werestanding on the quay to take a farewell of the little group of Europeansassembled to wish them
God-speed.

  The whole population of the place seemed to have gathered to witness thestart. Arabs in their long garments, turbaned Indians, and more or lessnaked negroes were mingled in one dense mass along the shore. Some ofthe natives had donned their best finery for the occasion. One oldfellow appeared in a battered chimney-pot hat and a tattered shirt thatreached his knees, with a red umbrella tucked under his arm. Othersdisplayed plush jackets of vivid hue, and wore coral charms andbracelets round their necks and arms. Women with little brown babiesfilled the air with their babblement, and the noise was diversified nowand then by the squealing grunt of camels and the whinnying of mules.

  Tom was the last to grasp his uncle's hand.

  "Good-bye, Uncle!" he said. "Good luck to you!"

  "Good-bye, my boy! Sorry you aren't with us. But cheer up; please God,we'll have a good time together yet."

  Then the gangway was removed, and, amid British cheers and Africanwhoops, the launches puffed and snorted and glided away over thebrownish waters of the great lake.

  Tom heaved a sigh as he turned away.

  "Well, well, that's over," said Mr. Barkworth, walking with Lilian byhis side. "We haven't seen much of you, sir, since we came up onMonday. Never fear, your uncle will pull it off. I remember, now, atCalcutta, a year or two ago, he said to me: 'Barkworth, I'm goingdownhill fast. Here am I at forty-six the wretchedest dog in theservice, with nothing but half-pay and idleness in front of me.' 'Cheerup,' said I, 'you'll get your chance. There is a tide in the affairs ofmen, you know. You'll be a K.C.B. yet.' I knew it, h'm!"

  "I'd give anything to have gone too," said Tom.

  Lilian looked amazed and shocked.

  "Why, Mr. Burnaby, you might get killed!" she said.

  Tom laughed.

  "I'd chance that. Besides, I might not. Anyhow, it's better to bekilled striking a blow for England than to peg out with pneumonia in afour-poster, or die of a brick off a chimney."

  "Fiddlesticks!" said Mr. Barkworth. "Pure fudge! Gordon said somethingof the same sort to me once; I knew him--a sort of forty-eleventhcousin. 'Barkworth,' he said, 'Heaven is as near the hot desert as thecool church at home.' Now I'm what they call a globe-trotter, throughthis restless girl of mine here, and I tell you that when my time comesI shan't rest comfortably unless I'm laid in the old churchyard at home.H'm! But this won't do. We aren't skull and crossbones yet. Come anddine with us to-night, Mr. Burnaby; seven sharp; you'll meet a padretoo; one of the White Fathers, you understand. Knows every inch of thecountry, and speaks the language like a native--only better. Lilianstayed for a year with some friends of his in France, and we brought outa letter of introduction. A fine fellow, this White Father--no whitefeather about him, ha! ha! You take me, eh! Well, then, we'll see youat seven. Mind you--seven sharp!"