362 JOURNEY WITHOUT MAPS

was called Tommie and he had a brazen boyish
charm. He knew the way, but he had no intention of
walking at our rate. He started each day well, but
after half an hour he would slip aside into the bush
and not catch up again until the midday halt By
that time he was usually a little drunk. Because he
wore a uniform he could rob any village he passed of
palm wine, fruit and vegetables.

I remember nothing of the trek to Zigi's Town and
very little of the succeeding days. I was so exhausted
that I couldn't write more than a few lines in my
diary; I hope never to be so tired again. I retain an
impression of continuous forest, occasional hills
emerging above the bush so that we could catch a
glimpse on either side of the great whalebacked
forests driving to the sea. Outside Zigi's Town there
was a stream trickling down the slope and a few ducks
with a curiously English air about them. I remember
trying to sit down, but immediately having to deal
with the town chief over food for the carriers, trying
to sit down again and rising to look for threepenny-
bits the cook needed for buying a chicken, trying to
sit down and being forced up again to dress a carrier's
sores. I couldn't stand any more of it; I swallowed
two tablespoonfuls of Epsom in a cup of strong tea
(we had finished our tinned milk long ago) and left
my cousin to deal with anything else that turned up,
My temperature was high. I swallowed twenty grains
of quinine with a glass of whisky, took off my clothes,
wrapped myself in blankets under the mosquito-net
and tried to sleep.

A thunderstorm came up. It was the third stona
had in a few days; there wasn't any time to lose: