As the Kilimanjaro
district is one rich in natives and trade, the track is well used. Most
of the transport is done by donkeys--either in carts or under the pack
saddle. As the distance from water to water is very great, the journey
is a hard one. This fact, and the incidental consideration that from fly
and hardship the mortality in donkeys is very heavy, pushes the freight
rates high. And that fact accounts for the motor car, which has been my
point of aim from the beginning of this paragraph.
The motor car plies between Voi and the German line at exorbitant rates.
Our plan was to have it take us and some galvanized water tanks out into
the middle of the desert and dump us down there. So after breakfast we
hunted up the owner.
He proved to be a very short, thick-set, blond German youth who
justified Weber and Fields. In fact, he talked so exactly like those
comedians that my task in visualizing him to you is somewhat lightened.
If all, instead of merely a majority of my readers, had seen Weber and
Fields that task would vanish.
We explained our plan, and asked him his price.
"Sefen hundert and feefty rupees,"[11] said he uncompromisingly.
He was abrupt, blunt, and insulting. As we wanted transportation very
much--though not seven hundred and fifty rupees' worth--we persisted. He
offered an imperturbable take-it-or-leave-it stolidity. The motor truck
stood near.
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