FOUR WEEKS IN FIKA 263 



running wherever the soft sand did not engulf my feet. 

 The town wall was only half a mile away, but as I 

 approached I knew he must be very bad. Groups of 

 men were clustered together, but they were grave and 

 silent, and as I hurried past they pointed me on my 

 way with looks of commiseration that made me shud- 

 der. I longed to see gesticulation and to hear eager 

 arguments as to how the accident happened and who 

 had seen it best. No, it was beyond that — did it 

 mean death ? It was the seventh accident, and so 

 should be the last. Surely, surely, were he still alive 

 they would be coming down the road. At last I 

 saw them : he was on a native bed, being carried 

 on men's heads. My heart gave a great thump, 

 and I ran forward to Mrs Talbot, who was behind 

 him. . . . 



A messenger rode that night to Nafada, and early 

 in the morning Dr Lobb came out and stayed with us 

 through the day, for the anxiety was great. He 

 believed the pelvis to be unbroken, but that there 

 was serious danger from internal haemorrhage. He 

 was very kind, and did his utmost ; but examination 

 was almost impossible, and treatment other than by 

 simple compresses was also beyond us. There was 

 nothing for it but to wait, so we three sat and talked 

 with forced cheerfulness, and Mr Talbot, too, joined in, 

 for he knew how his wife was suffering for him. When 

 twenty-four hours had passed and he was still alive, 

 the doctor muttered " miracle," ordained peace, and 

 took his departure. 



Next day the carriers were told we might be kept 

 six days, ten days, three weeks, we could not tell — so 

 that they were free to seek other service. They 



