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The Land of Footprints-Part39_Stewart Edward White(1873-1946)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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at hand to seize the bridle reins when the master wished to

dismount. Like the rickshaw runners in Nairobi, they wore their



hair clipped close around their bullet heads and seemed to have

developed into a small compact hard type of their own. They ate



and slept with their horses.

Just outside the courtyard of the stables a little barred window



had been cut through. Near this were congregated a number of

Kikuyu savages wrapped in their blankets, receiving each in turn



a portion of cracked corn from a dusty white man behind the bars.

They were a solemn, unsmiling, strange type of savage, and they



performed all the manual work within the enclosure, squatting on

their heels and pulling methodically but slowly at the weeds,



digging with their pangas, carrying loads: to and fro, or

solemnly" target="_blank" title="ad.严肃地，庄严地">solemnly pushing a lawn mower, blankets wrapped shamelessly about



their necks. They were harried about by a red-faced beefy English

gardener with a marvellous vocabulary of several native languages



and a short hippo-hide whip. He talked himself absolutely purple

in the face without, as far as my observation went, penetrating



an inch below the surface. The Kikuyus went right on doing what

they were already doing in exactly the same manner. Probably the



purple Englishman was satisfied with that, but I am sure apoplexy

of either the heat or thundering variety has him by now.



Before the store building squatted another group of savages.

Perhaps in time one of the lot expected to buy something; or



possibly they just sat. Nobody but a storekeeper would ever have

time to find out. Such is the native way. The storekeeper in this



case was named John. Besides being storekeeper, he had charge of

the issuing of all the house supplies, and those for the white



men's mess; he must do all the worrying about the upper class

natives; he must occasionally kill a buck for the meat supply;



and he must be prepared to take out any stray tenderfeet that

happen along during McMillan's absence, and persuade them that



they are mighty hunters. His domain was a fascinating place, for

it contained everything from pianola parts to patent washstands.



The next best equipped place of the kind I know of is the

property room of a moving picture company.



We went to mail a letter, and found the postmaster to be a

gentle-voiced, polite little Hindu, who greeted us smilingly, and



attempted to conceal a work of art. We insisted; whereupon he

deprecatingly drew forth a copy of a newspaper cartoon having to



do with Colonel Roosevelt's visit. It was copied with

mathematical exactness, and highly coloured in a manner to throw



into profoundmelancholy the chauffeur of a coloured supplement

press. We admired and praised; whereupon, still shyly, he



produced more, and yet again more copies of the same cartoon.

When we left, he was reseating himself to the painstaking



valueless labour with which he filled his days. Three times a

week such mail as Juja gets comes in via native runner. We saw



the latter, a splendid figure, almost naked, loping easily, his

little bundle held before him.



Down past the office and dispensary we strolled, by the

comfortable, airy, white man's clubhouse. The headman of the



native population passed us with a dignifiedsalute; a fine

upstanding deep-chested man, with a lofty air of fierce pride. He



and his handful of soldiers alone of the natives, except the

Somalis and syces, dwelt within the compound in a group of huts



near the gate. There when off duty they might be seen polishing

their arms, or chatting with their women. The latter were ladies



of leisure, with wonderful chignons, much jewelery, and

patterned Mericani wrapped gracefully about their pretty figures.



By the time we had seen all these things it was noon. We ate

lunch. The various members of the party decided to do various



things. I elected to go out with McMillan while he killed a

wildebeeste, and I am very glad I did. It was a most astonishing



performance.

You must imagine us driving out the gate in a buckboard behind



four small but lively white Abyssinian mules. In the front seat

were Michael, the Hottentot driver, and McMillan's Somali






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