Our only possible plan, in the circumstances, was to recruit the men outside the town, to camp them somewhere, march them across country to a way station, and there embark them.  Our goods and safari stores we could then ship out to them by train.

Accordingly we rode on bicycles out to the Swahili village.

This is, as I have said, composed of large “beehive” houses thatched conically with straw.  The roofs extend to form verandas beneath which sit indolent damsels, their hair divided in innumerable tiny parts running fore and aft like the stripes on a water melon; their figured ’Mericani garments draped gracefully.  As befitted the women of plutocrats, they wore much jewellery, some of it set in their noses.  Most of them did all of nothing, but some sat half buried in narrow strips of bright-coloured tissue paper.  These they were pasting together like rolls of tape, the coloured edges of the paper forming concentric patterns on the resultant discs—­an infinite labour.  The discs, when completed, were for insertion in the lobes of the ears.

When we arrived the irregular “streets” of the village were nearly empty, save for a few elegant youths, in long kanzuas, or robes of cinnamon colour and spotless white, on their heads fezzes or turbans, in their hands slender rattan canes.  They were very busy talking to each other, and of course did not notice the idle beauties beneath the verandas.

Hardly had we appeared, however, when mysteriously came forth the headman—­a bearded, solemn, Arab-like person with a phenomenally ugly face but a most pleasing smile.  We told him we wanted porters.  He clapped his hands.  To the four young men who answered this summons he gave a command.  From sleepy indolence they sprang into life.  To the four cardinal points of the compass they darted away, running up and down the side streets, beating on the doors, screaming at the tops of their lungs the word “Cazi"[10] over and over again.

The village hummed like a wasps’ nest.  Men poured from the huts in swarms.  The streets were filled; the idle sauntering youths were swamped, and sunk from view.  Clamour and shouting arose where before had been a droning silence.  The mob beat up to where we stood, surrounding us, shouting at us.  From somewhere some one brought an old table and two decrepit chairs, battered and rickety in themselves, but symbols of great authority in a community where nobody habitually used either.  Two naked boys proudly took charge of our bicycles.

We seated ourselves.

“Fall in!” we yelled.

About half the crowd fell into rough lines.  The rest drew slightly to one side.  Nobody stopped talking for a single instant.

We arose and tackled our job.  The first part of it was to segregate the applicants into their different tribes.