people. They were very grave and very polite, and seemed to be living
out their lives quite correctly according to their conceptions. Again,
it was borne in on me that these people are not stumbling along the
course of evolution in our footsteps, but have gone as far in their path
as we have in ours; that they have reached at least as complete a
correspondence with their environment as we with our own.[4]

If F. had not returned by the time I reached camp, I would seat myself
in my canvas chair, and thence dispense justice, advice, or medical
treatment. If none of these things seemed demanded, I smoked my pipe. To
me one afternoon came a big-framed, old, dignified man, with the heavy
beard, the noble features, the high forehead, and the blank statue eyes
of the blind Homer. He was led by a very small, very bright-eyed naked
boy. At some twenty feet distance he squatted down cross-legged before
me. For quite five minutes he sat there silent, while I sat in my camp
chair, smoked and waited. At last he spoke in a rolling deep bass voice
rich and vibrating--a delight to hear.

"Jambo (greeting)!" said he.

"Jambo!" I replied mildly.

Again a five-minute silence. I had begun reading, and had all but
forgotten his presence.

"Jambo bwana (greeting, master)!" he rolled out.

"Jambo!" I repeated.

The same dignified, unhasting pause.