held, I saw a spirited football game between
British and Belgian teams. Most of the big international British trading
companies that operate in Africa have branches in Kinshassa and it is
not difficult to assemble an English-speaking quorum.

In the matter of transportation Kinshassa is really the key to the heart
of the Congo. It is the rail-head of the narrow-gauge line from Matadi
and all merchandise that comes from Europe is transshipped at this point
to the boats that go up the Congo river as far as Stanleyville. Thus
every ton of freight and every traveller bound for the interior must
pass through Kinshassa. When the railway from the Katanga is constructed
its prestige will increase.

Kinshassa owes a part of its development to the Huileries du Congo
Belge. Its plant dominates the river front. There are a dozen huge tanks
into which the palm-oil flows from the barges. The fluid is then run
into casks and sent down by rail to Matadi, whence it goes in steamers
to Europe. More than a hundred white men are in the service of the "H.
C. B." at Stanley Pool. They live in standardized brick bungalows in
their own area which is equipped with tennis courts and a library. On
all English fete days the Union Jack is hoisted and there is much
festivity.

Two months had elapsed since I entered the Congo and I had travelled
about two thousand miles within its borders. This journey, short as it
seems as distances go these days, would have taken Stanley nearly two
years to accomplish in the face of the obstacles that hampered him. I
had only carried out part of my plan. The Kasai was calling. The time
was now at hand when I would retrace my way up the Congo River and turn
my face towards the Little America that nestles far up in the wilds.

[Illustration: THE BELGIAN CONGO]

CHAPTER VI--AMERICA IN THE CONGO

I

Go up the Kasai River to Djoko Punda and you believe, despite the
background of tropical vegetation and the ever-present naked savage,
that for the moment you are back in the United States. You see American
jitneys scooting through the jungle; you watch five-ton American
tractors hauling heavy loads along the sandy roads; you hear American
slang and banter on all sides, and if you are lucky enough to be invited
to a meal you get American hot cakes with real American maple syrup. The
air tingles with Yankee energy and vitality.

All this means that you have arrived at the outpost of Little America in
the Be