me emperors traveling in state; and within ten minutes we
were using paddles ourselves to poke and beat our men into
understanding of the laws of balance, they abusing one another while
the canoes rocked and took in water through the loosely laid on planks.

The fiber stitching began to give out very soon after that, because
when not in use the canoes were always hauled out somewhere and the
dried-out fiber cracked and broke. We had all to sit to one side while
some one restitched the planking. Later, when a wind came up and the
quick short sea arose peculiar to lakes, we were very glad we had done
that job so early.

It was only the first mile that as much as suggested enjoyment. Never
accustomed to much paddling in any case, our own men had suffered from
hunger and confinement in the reeking hot dhow. Then, hippo meat needs
hours of cooking to be wholesome (our own share of it was still in the
pot, waiting to be boiled more thoroughly at the next halting place).
They had merely toasted their tough lumps in the camp-fire embers and
gobbled it. The result was a craving for sleep, noisily seconded by
the chief's four men, who had eaten the stuff without cooking at all,
and in enormous quantities.

We began with a keen determination to overhaul the dhow, that dwindled
as we had time to think the matter over; wondering what we should do
with two such women in case we should capture them, and how we should
prevent Coutlass in that case from acting like a savage.

"Why don't we leave 'em to make their own explanations?" I proposed at
last. "We can claim our few belongings at any time if we see fit."
But the suggestion took time to recommend itself.

That night until nearly morning we fretted at every rest the paddlers
took--drove them unmercifully--ran risks of overturning on the slippery
shoulders of partly submerged rocks--took long turns ourselves to
relieve the weary men, Coutlass working harder than the rest of us. It
would have been a bad night's work if we had overhauled the dhow and
loosed him to do his will.

"Think of the baggage!" he kept shouting to the night at large. "Lying
in the arms of Georges Coutlass, kissing and being kissed, simply to
rob him--Coutlass--me! Think of it! Only think of it. She lay in the
hook of my right arm and only thought of how to win back the favor of
the other she-hellion! And I was deceived by such a cabbage! Wait
though! Nobody ever turned a trick on Georges Cout