TWELVE THOUSAND MILES 7 



When, on the sunny afternoon of July 18, 1928, a 

 conductor shouted "all aboard" and the "Columbine" 

 ghded out of the station at Denver, I was once again 

 returning to this land where the Egyptians, Phoeni- 

 cians, Sumerians, Cretans, and Romans builded king- 

 doms which then tumbled into dust, to be swallowed 

 up by the seas of oblivion; I was again returning to 

 hear the roar of the African lion sound through the 

 dismal places where once proud cities stood, to watch 

 the wild elephant follow down the trails over wliich had 

 rolled thousands of chariot wheels; I was once again 

 leaving a tearful wife and daughter waving farewell. 



With my family were many true and loving friends 

 who had come to say good-by. As they all faded into 

 the distance, the realization came that several months 

 would pass before I could see them again, and that 

 during this period many things might happen to them 

 and to me. These were not pleasant thoughts. 



With me was a young man who had left Hollywood 

 only five days before. Ahead of us were twelve 

 thousand miles of land and sea, months beneath 

 tropical skies, surrounded by men and beasts who 

 were still beyond the rim of civilization. Austin knew 

 Hollywood and pictures ; he knew dogs and wild ducks, 

 but dangerous animals and strange peoples were things 

 only heard about or read of in books. 



Days later that veteran of the seas, the "R. M. S. 

 Mauretania," pulled away from her pier, amid the 

 roars of the usual crowd bidding good-bys. Above 

 all this din and commotion, the soprano voice of a 

 large lady from the Bronx could be heard, yelling to 

 *'papa," and she continued to shout him instructions 

 as to his conduct while in Europe until the gap be- 



