ent out. At noon we emerged from
the forest into a clearing. Suddenly Moody said, "I hear an automobile
engine." A moment later I saw a small car burst through the trees far
ahead and I knew that relief was at hand. Dr. John Dunn, the physician
at Tshikapa, had started at dawn to meet me, and my teapoy adventures,
for the moment, were ended. Dr. Livingstone at Ujiji had no keener
feeling of relief at the sight of Stanley that I felt when I shook the
hand of this bronzed, Middle Western medico.

We lunched by the roadside and afterwards I got into Dunn's car and
resumed the journey. I sent the porters and teapoy men back to
Kabambaie. Late in the afternoon we reached the bluffs overlooking the
Upper Kasai. Across the broad, foaming river was Tshikapa. If I had not
known that it was an American settlement, I would have sensed its
sponsorship. It radiated order and neatness. The only parallels in the
Congo are the various areas of the Huileries du Congo Belge.

V

Tshikapa, which means "belt," is a Little America in every sense. It
commands the junction of the Tshikapa and Kasai rivers. There are dozens
of substantial brick dwellings, offices, warehouses, machine-shops and a
hospital. For a hundred miles to the Angola border and far beyond, the
Yankee has cut motor roads and set up civilization generally. You see
American thoroughness on all sides, even in the immense native villages
where the mine employees live. Instead of having compounds the company
encourages the blacks to establish their own settlements and live their
own lives. It makes them more contented and therefore more efficient,
and it establishes a colony of permanent workers. When the native is
confined to a compound he gets restless and wants to go back home. The
Americans are helping to solve the Congo labour problem.

At Tshikapa you hear good old United States spoken with every dialectic
flavour from New England hardness to Texas drawl. In charge of all the
operations in the field was Doyle, a clear-cut, upstanding American
engineer who had served his apprenticeship in the Angola jungles, where
he was a member of one of the first American prospecting parties. With
his wife he lived in a large brick bungalow and I was their guest in it
during my entire stay in the diamond fields. Mrs. Doyle embodied the
same courage that animated Mrs. Wallace. Too much cannot be said of the
faith and fortitude of these women who share their husband's fortunes
out a