AFRICAN CAMP FIRES 



of evolution in our footsteps, but have gone as far 

 in their path as we have in ours; that they have 

 reached at least as complete a correspondence with 

 their environment as we with our own.* 



If F. had not returned by the time I reached camp, 

 I would seat myself in my canvas chair, and thence 

 dispense justice, advice, or medical treatment. 

 If none of these things seemed demanded, I smoked 

 my pipe. To me one afternoon came a big-framed, 

 old, dignified man, with the heavy beard, the really 

 noble features, the high forehead and the blank 

 statue eyes of the blind Homer. He was led by a 

 very small, very bright-eyed naked boy. At some 

 twenty feet distance he squatted down cross-legged 

 before me. For quite five minutes he sat there 

 silent, while I held down my camp chair, smoked 

 and waited. At last he spoke in a rolling deep bass 

 voice rich and vibrating a delight to hear. 



"Jambo (greeting)!" said he. 



"Jambo!" I replied mildly. 



Again a five-minute silence. I had begun reading, 

 and had all but forgotten his presence. 



"Jambo bwana (greeting, master)!" he rolled out. 



"Jambo!" I repeated. 



The same dignified, unhasting pause. 



"Jambo bwana m'kubwa (greeting great master) !" 



*For a fuller discussion see "The Land of Footprints." 



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