HEART OF THE CONGO 371 



hot sun, spent his few francs on pieces of gaudy cloth, 

 or on more useful articles, such as enameled pots, pans, 

 and cups. 



Representatives of the Vacuum Oil Company gave 

 us a royal reception, and I was glad to learn that my 

 supplies of gasoHne and Mobiloil had arrived, for now 

 we could proceed westward to our next depot. A 

 young Frenchman invited us to dinner, during which 

 Joe and Austin got into a heated argument over who 

 was the best farmer, a Norwegian or a German. The 

 discussion ended in a tussle, Jones and I having ring- 

 side seats. Nothing serious happened, except that 

 they failed to settle the momentous question at issue 

 — a disappointment from wliich Jones and I required 

 several days to recover. 



Next day the boat came in with a cargo of gasoline, 

 dried fish, cement, iron roofing, and wine, and reloaded 

 with palm oil, palm kernels, and ivory. This small 

 wood-burning side-paddler makes two trips a month 

 to connect with the larger boat that phes the Congo. 

 It presented a unique picture with its piles of wood 

 covering the decks, with chickens and goats chasing 

 one another through the passageways, and with bananas 

 and freshly washed clothes hanging from every possible 

 protrusion. The neat French captain stood on the 

 bridge nervously twisting his mustache as he watched 

 a black man cooking his food on a small fire beneath 

 the gangplank, and another who was doing some mend- 

 ing on a portable sewing macliine which rested against 

 the smokestack. 



Information proved hard to get here, for most travel 

 is by water and little is known concerning the roads, 

 or rather paths, that lead out of the place. We were 



