"That's nothing," said he. "But I must tell you this: if you are coming with us to the Kasai, you must drop the 'uncle.' Your father was considerably older than I was--fifteen years. You had better call me by my Christian name--Edward. 'Ted's' a trifle too familiar."
By then they were joined by Crouch, who carried a large knotted stick in one hand, and in the other--a paper bag.
"What have you got there?" asked Harden, pointing to the bag.
"Sweets," said Crouch. "For the children in the Park."
And so it came about that they three left the Explorers' Club together, Max in the middle, with his gigantic uncle on one hand, and the little wizened sea-captain on the other.
They created no small amount of interest and amazement in Bond Street, but they were blissfully ignorant of the fact. The world of these men was not the world of the little parish of St. James's. One was little more than a boy, whose mind was filled with dreams; but the others were men who had seen the stars from places where no human being had ever beheld them before, who had been the first to set foot in unknown lands, who had broken into the heart of savagery and darkness. Theirs was a world of danger, hardship and adventure. They had less respect for the opinion of those who passed them by than for the wild beasts that prowl by night around an African encampment. After all, the world is made up of two kinds of men: those who think and those who act; and who can say which is the greater of the two?
[CHAPTER II--ON THE KASAI]
A mist lay upon the river like a cloud of steam. The sun was invisible, except for a bright concave dome, immediately overhead, which showed like the reflection of a furnace in the midst of the all-pervading greyness of the heavens. The heat was intense--the heat of the vapour-room of a Turkish bath. Myriads of insects droned upon the surface of the water.
The river had still a thousand miles to cover before it reached the ocean--the blazing, surf-beaten coast-line to the north of St. Paul de Loanda. Its turgid, coffee-coloured waters rushed northward through a land of mystery and darkness, lapping the banks amid black mangrove swamps and at the feet of gigantic trees whose branches were tangled in confusion.
In pools where the river widened, schools of hippopotami lay like great logs upon the surface, and here and there a crocodile basked upon a mud-bank, motionless by the hour, like some weird, bronze image that had not the power to move. In one place a two-horned rhinoceros burst through the jungle, and with a snort thrust its head above the current of the stream.