THE LAST FRONTIER 



manual work within the enclosure, squatting on 

 their heels and pulling methodically but slowly at 

 the weeds, digging with their pangas, carrying loads 

 to and fro, or solemnly pushing a lawn mower, their 

 blankets wrapped shamelessly about their necks. 

 They were harried about by a red-faced beefy Eng- 

 lish gardener with a marvellous vocabulary of several 

 native languages and a short hippo-hide whip. He 

 talked himself absolutely purple in the face without, 

 as far as my observation went, penetrating an inch 

 below the surface. The Kikuyus went right on do- 

 ing what they were already doing in exactly the same 

 manner. Probably the purple Englishman was sat- 

 isfied with that, but I am sure apoplexy of either the 

 heat or thundering variety has him by now. 



Before the store building squatted another group 

 of savages. Perhaps in time one of the lot expected 

 to buy something; or possibly they just sat. No- 

 body but a storekeeper would ever have time to find 

 out. Such is the native way. The storekeeper in 

 this case was named John. Besides being store- 

 keeper, he had charge of the issuing of all the house 

 supplies, and those for the white men's mess; he 

 must do all the worrying about the upper class na- 

 tives; he must occasionally kill a buck for the meat 

 supply; and he must be prepared to take out any 

 stray tenderfeet that happen along during McMil- 



380 



