THE HOME FROM HOME 53

This question of dashes was a complicated one; in
the course of the journey we found ourselves dashed
not merely the usual chicken (value 6d. or gd. accord-
ing to quality; return dash, which should always
slightly exceed the true value, is. or is. 3^.), eggs
(return dash id. each), oranges and bananas (value
about forty for 3^.; return dash 6d.), but a goat, a
dancing monkey, a bundle of knives, a leather pouch,
and innumerable gourds of palm wine. It was not
always easy to calculate the value, and it was a long
time before I overcame my reluctance to press a
shilling into a chief's hand.

I had been told by Mr. D. that I might meet three
chiefs before we left Sierra Leoiae, Chief Coomba and
Chief Fomba at Pendembu, the end of the line, and
Chief Momno Kpanyan at Kailahun, our last stop-
ping place before the frontier. Chief Momno
Kpanyan was a very rich man, and the thought of
having to dash him a few shillings clouded the whole
of the journey.

I had never been so hot and so damp; if we pulled
down the blinds in the small dusty compartment we
shut out all the air; if we raised them, the sun
scorched the wicker, the wooden floor, drenched
hands and knees in sweat. Outside, the dusty Sierra
Leone countryside unrolled, like a piece of drab cloth
along a draper's counter, grey and dull-green and
burnt up by the dry season which was now approach-
ing its end. The train rattled and reeled forward
at fifteen miles an hour, burrowing intimately
through the native villages almost within hand's
reach of the huts, the babies rolling in the dust, the
men lounging in torn hammocks hung under the