who come to my hotel."

And he did, some of it. He was inexhaustible, unconquerable, tireless,
an optimist always. He had a store that was part of the hotel, in
which he claimed to sell "everything the mind of man could wish for in
East Africa"; and the boast was true. He even sold American dime
novels.

"East Africa's a great country!" he kept assuring us. "Some day we'll
all be rich! Have to get ready for it! Have to be prepared! Have to
stock everything the mind of man can want, to encourage new arrivals
and make the old ones feel at home. Lose a little money, but why
grumble? Get it back when the boom comes. As it will, mind you. As
it will. Can't help it. Richest country in the world--grow
anything--find anything--game--climate--elevation--scenery--natives by
the million to do the work--all good! Only waiting for white men with
energy, and capital to start things really moving!"

But there were other points of view. We went to the bank, and found
its manager conservative. The amount of the draft we placed to our
credit insured politeness.

"Be cautious," he advised us. "Take a good look round before you
commit yourselves!"

He agreed to manage the interchange of messages between us and Monty,
and invited us all to dinner that evening at the club; so we left the
bank feeling friendly and more confident. Later, a chance-met English
official showed us over the old fort (now jail) where men of more
breeds and sorts than Noah knew, better clothed and fed than ever in