ON THE MARCH 



low and sweet, occasionally breaking into full voice 

 as the inner occasion swells, then almost immediately 

 falling again to the murmuring undertone of more 

 concentrated attention. 



The red blanket was generally worn knotted from 

 one shoulder or bound around the waist Malay 

 fashion. When it turned into a cowl, with a miserable 

 and humpbacked expression, it became the Official 

 Badge of Illness. No matter what was the matter 

 that was the proper thing to do to throw the 

 blanket over the head and to assume as miserable a 

 demeanour as possible. A sore toe demanded just 

 as much concentrated woe as a case of pneumonia. 



Sick call was cried after the day's work was 

 finished. Then M'ganga or one of the askaris lifted 

 up his voice. 



"N'gonjwa! n'gonjwa!" he shouted; and at the 

 shout the red cowls gathered in front of the tent. 



Three things were likely to be the matter: too 

 much meat, fever, or pus infection from slight 

 wounds. To these in the rainy season would be added 

 the various sorts of colds. That meant either Epsom 

 salts, quinine, or a little excursion with the lancet and 

 permanganate. The African traveller gets to be 

 heap big medicine man within these narrow limits. 



All the red cowls squatted miserably, oh, very 

 miserably, in a row. The headman stood over them 



81 



