NORTH-EASTERN RHODESIA 75 



with bandoliers around their shoulders and long, 

 well-cared-for Sniders resting against the flag- 

 pole. It is dusk, and the glories of the dying 

 African sun throw a long blaze of crimson and 

 gold across the western sky and tinge the bronze 

 of the mopani trees with a blood-red hue. One of 

 the khaki-clad figures cries " 'Tenshun ! " in a way 

 which is strangely reminiscent of your old school 

 sergeant-instructor, another lifts a shining bugle 

 to his lips, and the remainder gather in the Sniders 

 to their shoulders and draw up their well-propor- 

 tioned bodies with a show of dignity which you 

 cannot fail to remark on. The sergeant of the 

 " askaris," as our Central African troops and 

 Constabulary are termed, shouts " Pleesent 

 alms ! " the bugler blows a fairly creditable 

 blast, and the sergeant hauls down the Union 

 Jack, which is reverently folded up and placed 

 in the mud-covered guard-room for the night. 



Such a scene is not uncommon in Central 

 Africa. Throughout much of the great continent 

 there are Bomas, or administrative stations, 

 where we have established outposts of the Empire, 

 one of the necessary obligations that has fallen 

 on all nations and all peoples who have assumed 

 that task of great magnitude which has so aptly 

 been termed " the white man's burden." 



And yet how few there are who realize what 

 that burden implies, what strength of character 

 and moral resolution are required to carry it 

 with dignity and purpose ! And what does the 

 average Britisher know of the men who are 

 carrying that burden for his nation, lifting the 

 load over obstacles which double its weight, 

 and when their race is run are quietly and un- 

 pretentiously handing on the burden to another ? 



Some day Britannia will count up the services 



