THE LAST FRONTIER 



Billy had her funny times housekeeping. The 

 kitchen department never quite ceased marvelling 

 at her. Whenever she went to the cook-camp to 

 deliver her orders she was surrounded by an atten- 

 tive and respectful audience. One day, after hold- 

 ing forth for some time in Swahili, she found that she 

 had been standing hobnailed on one of the boy's 

 feet. 



"Why, Mahomet!" she cried. "That must have 

 hurt you ! Why didn't you tell me ? " 



"Memsahib," he smiled politely, "I think perhaps 

 you move some time!" 



On another occasion she was trying to tell the 

 cook, through Mahomet as interpreter, that she 

 wanted a tough old buffalo steak pounded, boarding- 

 house style. This evidently puzzled all hands. 

 They turned to in an earnest discussion of what it 

 was all about, anyway. Billy understood Swahili 

 well enough at that time to gather that they could 

 not understand the Memsahib's wanting the meat 

 "kibokoed" flogged. Was it a religious rite, or a 

 piece of revenge? They gave it up. 



"All right," said Mahomet patiently at last. "He 

 say he do it. Which one is it? " 



Part of our supplies comprised tins of dehydrated 

 fruit. One evening Billy decided to have a grand 

 celebration, so she passed out a tin marked "rhu- 



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