"You'll get used to it," he said. "It's rather disheartening at first, but you may think yourself lucky the natives didn't bother you. When I first came out here ten years ago I had a running fight with one of the tribes for a week, and lost practically everything I possessed. Things are safer now."
John told him about the desertion of Juma with the rifles, and the plight from which he had rescued Ferrier.
"That's unpleasant," said Mr. Gillespie. "If you take my advice you'll go back by way of Fort Hall and report to the District Commissioner. He may be disposed to send a company of the Protectorate police to deal with the ruffians. I'm afraid it's not a big enough job for the King's African Rifles. Probably they won't trouble you again, however. Their ammunition will soon be exhausted, and they can't get any more."
John remained in Nairobi for a week. He found that he had lost fifty-two sheep and one calf, besides his donkey; but Mr. Gillespie said that the animals were a healthy lot, and handed over 1500 rupees as the proceeds of the sale. The cheese fetched 100 rupees. John banked the greater part of the money, keeping a little to buy new clothes for himself, a few articles for the farm, and a fresh stock of "trade" for the payment of his native workers. Then, feeling that Ferrier might be growing uneasy at his long absence, he set off one day with his safari on the return journey, feeling pretty well satisfied with the tangible result of his first year's labours.
He went by way of Fort Hall, as Mr. Gillespie had suggested. He found it to be only a fort in the sense in which that word was used to describe the stations of the Hudson's Bay Company in the Far North. A substantial house perched on a hill, with a solid stone wall and a ditch around it, the flag of the Protectorate flying from a staff in the compound, a few huts and houses, a jail, and an Indian bazaar: that was Fort Hall. The Commissioner received him hospitably, and listened attentively to his story.
"Well, Mr. Halliday," he said, "the tribesmen certainly ought to be taught a lesson: in fact, they clearly have been taught a lesson. I don't know that I can do anything. I got your message, of course, but had no men available. You see, we don't care to start police expeditions if we can avoid it. It means great expense, and we want all our funds for peaceful development. Of course if you hadn't already given them a dressing we should have had to do something; but I fancy you've given them a fright, and they won't bother you again. You're rather far away, and a few years ago you would have had a very hot time there; but there are signs all over the country that the natives are settling down peaceably under our government, and the moral effect of the crushing of the Masai rebellion has been enormous. Let me know at once if you have any further trouble."
The interview left John with the impression that he could expect little assistance from the officials. In this he probably did them an injustice. It is not altogether harmful that the settler should be self-reliant.
[CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH--Rhinoceros and Lions]
"I'm jolly glad you're back, old man," said Ferrier, as John marched in one day at the head of his safari. "Began to think you were lost. How did you get on?"
"Splendidly," said John, cheerful after his quick journey home. "That is, pretty well; in fact" (as his memory and his sense of veracity awoke) "I had the rottenest time I ever had in my life. That sounds a bit of a muddle, I know, but I'll tell you all about it presently. How have things been going here?"