He left Mombasa next morning before the Barkworths appeared. The journey on the single line of the Uganda railway was full of interest to him, impatient as he was to arrive at his destination. The train passed through some of the most wonderful scenery to be found anywhere on the face of the globe. Here were huge boulders, poised as though by some giant's hand, and the craters of long-extinct volcanoes; there, long stretches of open country, skirted by dense forests of acacias, banana-trees, and other tropical vegetation. Gazelles, giraffes, zebras, hartebeest sported in herds over the green plains; an occasional baboon was seen squatting on a branch; and here and there, by some lake or riverside, hippopotamuses and rhinoceroses wallowed and revelled in the shallows. Amid these signs of wild life appeared at intervals the straw huts of a native village; or a shanty, roofed with corrugated iron, marked the coming of civilization and trade: and then, towering high into the sky, rose the gigantic snow-capped form of Mount Kilimanjaro. The long journey came to an end at last, and Tom found his uncle--only to meet with sore disappointment, as already related.
He was still feeling rather downhearted as he walked towards Port Florence in the sweltering heat. It was by this time mid-afternoon, and every discreet person was indulging in siesta in the shade. Tom met no one but a few natives, dressed in little but hippo teeth and bead necklaces, and he was wondering how to find his way to the major's bungalow when his ear was caught by unmistakeable cries of pain. Turning a corner he saw a young black-follow writhing in the grip of a European in light but dirty attire, who held his victim by his woolly hair, and was belabouring his bare back with a whip of rhinoceros hide.
"Hi, you there? stop that!" cried Tom.
The man looked up sharply, gave the interrupter one scowling glance; and, seeing only a stripling, laid on again.
"D'you hear? Stop that!" shouted Tom, hurrying along till he came within arm's-length of the bully. "Drop that whip, or I'll knock you down."
The man, apparently a Portuguese of the low type that Portugal sends to her colonies, stared at him, spat out a curse, and raised his whip to strike again. That instant Tom's right arm shot out straight from the shoulder, and before the cruel thong could descend again, the brute found himself lying on his back in a pool of green mud. By the time he had picked himself up the negro had slipped away, and soon put enough ground between himself and his tormentor to make pursuit hopeless. Quivering with passion the man drew a knife from his belt and glared menacingly at Tom, who stood with hot brow and clenched fists ready to repeat the blow. But the sound of the altercation had drawn a few spectators to the spot, and, fearing the sure hand of British justice, the discomfited Portuguese furtively replaced his knife, and, with another ferocious look at Tom, slunk away.
"Fery goot, fery goot, my young friend," said a voice near Tom; "but you hafe soon forgot vun of my advice-vords."
"Oh, it's you, is it, Herr Schwab?" said Tom, turning and recognizing his fellow-passenger on the steamer.
"Yes, it is me," replied the German. "Vat hafe I said? I hafe said: Before all zings, step never in betveen ze native and ze vite man. Ze native are all bad lot, as you say. Now you hafe vun enemy, my young friend."
"Oh, that's all right! You couldn't expect me to look on and see that murderous brute ill-using the poor wretch?"