Then ensued financial wranglings
and disputes as to terms. It ended by useless hauteur on Davis's part,
and inexcusable but effective action by the German. For Davis found
himself dumped down on the Serengetti desert and left there.
We heard all this in excruciatingly funny Weberandfieldese, many times
repeated. The German literally beat his breast and cried aloud against
Davis. We unblushingly sacrificed a probably perfectly worthy Davis to
present need, and cried out against him too.
"Am I like one dog?" demanded the German fervently.
"Certainly not," we cried with equal fervour. We both like dogs.
Then followed wearisomely reiterated assurances that we, at least, knew
how a gentleman should be treated, and more boasting of proud
connections in the past. But the end of it was a bargain of reasonable
dimensions for ourselves, our personal boys, and our loads. Under plea
of starting our safari boys off we left him, and crept, with shattered
nerves, around the corner of the dak-bungalow. There we lurked, busy at
pretended affairs, until our friend swaggered away to the Hindu
quarters, where, it seems, he had his residence.
About ten o'clock a small safari marched in afoot. It had travelled all
of two nights across the Thirst, and was glad to get there. The single
white man in charge had been three years alone among the natives near
Kilimanjaro, and he was now out for a six months' vacation at home.
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