THE STRANGE VILLAGE OF KIYA BE 379 



Two days after our friendly chat on the way to the 

 bungalow, liis long thin body was sprawled half buried 

 in mud and water, while he struggled to chop away 

 some planks that prevented us from getting the truck 

 out of the river in which it was partly submerged. 

 We had been working here for hours under the rays 

 of a red-hot sun in a vain attempt to get the truck 

 back on hard ground. Jones and I were exhausted, 

 but Ali kept chopping away, while we watched with 

 rifles ready for the sUnking crocodiles that craved this 

 thin morsel from the flock of Mohammed. 



The Chari River was crossed without any great 

 amount of difliculty. The ferry was worse than crude; 

 so we had loaded one truck as lightly as possible, 

 carrying just the absolute necessities, and had left the 

 other in the fort. Miles of plowing through deep 

 sand had then brought us to a narrow tributary where 

 it looked as though we should have to turn back. 

 Some scouting around, however, located a few dugout 

 canoes which were rigged up into what we thought a 

 safe conveyance. We boarded the rickety aflfair all 

 right and safely crossed the channel, but when I 

 attempted to drive up the other bank, the planks 

 leading from the ferry to the shore broke, allowing the 

 rear of the truck to faU. The wheels were suspended 

 in air and for a second it appeared as if the whole 

 outfit would slide into the water, but the end of the 

 body caught on the ferry, and, wliile it hung precari- 

 ously in tliis position, we hurriedly ran a steel cable 

 from the front bumper to a large tree. I then dis- 

 patched our guide for help, and he returned in about 

 an hour with forty natives, but in spite of all their 

 tugging on a big rope, the truck would not budge. 



