228 JOURNEY WITHOUT MAPS

mistake of giving him whisky, thinking it would
make him more ready to do what I wanted, but it
only made him sleepy and confused and less able
than ever to deal with his disobedient townspeople.
When it was quite dark and we were sitting in the
compound squeezing limes into our whisky, he
returned with a pretty nubile girl who was one of his
two wives. His father the Paramount Chief, he said,
had fifty-five. He drank more whisky and became
rather fuddled. I was aware of the carriers hovering
miserably out of range of my hurricane lamp; I
wanted to impress them that I was doing something
about their food, I was feeling guilty sitting there
drinking whisky, waiting for my own chop to be
served. I told the chief he was lying, that he had
done nothing about the men's chop, and he leapt up,
dignified and drunk and a little too plausible like the
motor salesman he should have been. He said lie
would show me that he was not a liar; the chop was
cooking now—I had only to follow him, and he set off
with long strides towards the town. I called out
into the shadows for Vande and pursued him at the
run. It was a very lovely night; I had never seen so
many stars; the whisky made me want to be at peace
with all the world; I was quite ready to take the
chiefs word when he halted outside one of the
furthest huts and pointed to a circle of women, their
faces lit by the slow low flames of the wood fire on
which they were boiling a great cauldron of rice.
"Is it enough?'' I asked Vande, and Vande said, Yes,
it was enough. Neither of us could speak the language
and ask the women whether the food was really in-
te^nded for the carriers. A few. sullen notabilities of