“Yes thanks, I will,” and Carl, too, was soon wreathed in a cloud of pipe smoke.
They sat silently for a time, each studying the other, when Carl, anxious to renew the conversation, said “From your remarks, I take it you have traveled this road before.”
“Many a time. Guess I know every inch of it and each different shriek in the wheels. By the way, name is Rogers—trader and so on.”
“Mine’s Lohman, engineer from New York.”
“Glad to know you, Lohman,” from the other, who, it was apparent, did not believe much in the formalities. Of this Carl was glad. Here was a man he could talk to without having to watch his step every inch of the way.
The other continued, “You won’t mind my rudeness, I hope—but would you mind my asking what you are doing here?”
“Not at all,” replied Carl; “and I’ll answer you too. I’m trying to get to Timbuktoo in a hurry. And I’m sorry to say that ‘hurry’ seems to be the last thing thought of here.”
“You have a long way to go, friend.” Rogers paused for a moment, then continued with “How are you going on from Segu Sikoro?”
“I intended to go by horse if possible, but for the last few hours I have been worrying as to how I can get the horses.”
“Well you would have good cause for worry if you hadn’t met me. But having met me, you need not worry.”