244 JOURNEY WITHOUT MAPS

worth, but he was more like Mr. Fairchild than the
poet. I think his appearance maligned him and that
really he was shy and afraid of humiliation; I thi^
quite possibly, like Mr. Fairchild, he had a heart of
gold under that repressive exterior. Now he stood
above me like a little yellow tyrant, and I really
believed at first that he would refuse me a house, but
instead he called his young brother, the Quarter-
master.

Mr. Wordsworth, junior, was quite different. He
had a round seal-grey face with soft lips (there seemed
to be less white blood in his veins) and he had a
passion for friendship. He it was who had raised his
hat to me at the crossing of path and road at Ganta.
He led me to the next bungalow: a palatial building
of four rooms and a cookhouse. In one of the rooms
we found the Paramount Chief, squatting on the
native bed, eating his lunch with the clan chief; he
was very like the ex-King of Spain and wore a soft
hat and a native robe. We had arrived at Tapee
during a conference of the local chiefs. They had
made complaints against the District Commissioners,
especially against Mr. Wordsworth, and Colonel
Davis had arrived as the President's special agent to
hear the complaints. There were several D.C.s now
staying in the compound. We had arrived in the
lunch interval.

I sat down in a wooden chair and waited for the
others to arrive. The Paramount Chief hastily came
out of the bedroom and said the chair was his. I
could sit in it, but it was his. The palaver-house m
the compound began to fill up with chiefs wto
streamed in at the gates in soft hats under umbrellas*