Congo service at all; and now you're up here on the Haut Congo
skippering a rubbishy fourpenny stern-wheel launch, which of course is a
lot beneath your precious dignity.

"And I--well, I once had a practice at home; and got into a row over a
woman; and when the row was through, well, where was the practice? I
came out here because no one will look at me in any other quarter of the
globe. I get wretched pay, and I do as little as I possibly can for it.
I'm half-seas over every day of the week, and I'm liked because I can
play the banjo."

"I don't see what good you're getting by abuse like this," said Kettle.

"I'm trying to make you both forget your silly naggling. We may just as
well be cheerful for the bit of time we've got."

"Bit of time!"

"Well, it won't be much anyway. Here's the launch with a hole shot in
her boiler, and no steam, drifted hard and fast on to a sandbank. On
another bank, eight hundred yards away, are half a regiment of rebel
troops with plenty of good rifles and plenty of cartridges, browning us
for all they're worth. Their friends are off up stream to collect canoes
from those villages which have been raided, and canoes they'll
get--likewise help from the recently raided. When dark comes, away
they'll attack us, and personally, I mean to see it out fighting, and
they'll probably chop me afterward, and the odds are I give some of them
bad dyspepsia. About that I don't care two pins. But I don't intend to
be caught alive. That means torture, and no error about it." He
shivered. "I've seen their subjects after they've played their torture