XXV.

VOI.


Part way up the narrow-gauge railroad from the coast is a station called
Voi. On his way to the interior the traveller stops there for an evening
meal. It is served in a high, wide stone room by white-robed Swahilis
under command of a very efficient and quiet East Indian. The voyager
steps out into the darkness to look across the way upon the outlines of
two great rounded hills against an amethyst sky. That is all he ever
sees of Voi, for on the down trip he passes through it about two o'clock
in the morning.

At that particularly trying hour F. and I descended, and attempted, by
the light of lanterns, to sort out twenty safari boys strange to us, and
miscellaneous camp stores. We did not entirely succeed. Three men were
carried on down the line, and the fly to our tent was never seen again.

The train disappeared. Our boys, shivering, crept into corners. We took
possession of the dak-bungalow maintained by the railroad for just such
travellers as ourselves. It was simply a high stone room, with three
iron beds, and a corner so cemented that one could pour pails of water
over one's self without wetting the whole place. The beds were supplied
with mosquito canopies and strong wire springs. Over these we spread our
own bedding, and thankfully resumed our slumbers.

The morning discovered to us Voi as the station, the district
commissioner's house on a distant side hill, and a fairly extensive East
Indian bazaar. The keepers of the latter traded with the natives.