"Uncle, sah, in canoe, all alone row up de ribber. Uncle, sah--"
"Quite so, but you can tell me the story another time. I want you to keep the crew amused, you understand."
Mbutu looked rather disappointed, but at once began to unfold his story to the negroes, who listened with strained attention, breaking out at intervals into guffaws of pleasure and cries of amazement.
Meanwhile Tom looked about him. The crew had evidently performed this journey before, for they dexterously skirted the shallows, and appeared to know exactly where to pull to avoid the encroaching reeds. Beyond the reeds the banks were lined with splendid trees, some with white trunks, others with gray, others with black; the foliage of vivid green; the blossoms of many hues--crimson, scarlet, lilac, yellow, white. On some of them india-rubber vines had fastened themselves in long loops and festoons. The river itself shone in the sunlight like a pathway of polished metal. Here and there it seemed to cease to be a river at all, and became a mere lagoon, and at such spots Tom saw more than one rhinoceros wallowing, their horned snouts just out of the water. As the canoe progressed, the rushes were less dense; a thick wall of soft-wood plants came into view; raphia-palms with their huge fronds, wild bananas with their enormous leaves, the slender stems of date-palms, crowned with graceful plumage of the richest green. The air was still, save now and again when the canoe disturbed a haunt of water-fowl, or a parrot flew squawking among the reeds, or a covey of beautifully-coloured widow-finches darted from shrub to shrub uttering their harsh little cries. Occasionally the canoe passed a tree on which innumerable monkeys were chattering and squabbling. Once Tom's ear caught the inimitable trill of a thrush, reminding him of Home; and as the canoe glided beneath the branches of a spreading plantain, a number of large birds, with gorgeous blue bodies, crimson pinions, and tufted heads, sportively pursued one another among the foliage, boo-hooing, braying, shrieking uproariously.
"What's that noisy fowl?" asked Tom, interrupting Mbutu as he was regaling the crew for the tenth time with the moving story of his uncle and the crocodile.
"Dat, sah? Dat big plantain-eater, sah. Berrah brave bird, sah! Him come see me in hut; see uncle, sah, all alone row up ribber. Uncle go sleep, sah; leg ober side--"
At this moment the crew, deprived of their recent amusement, struck up again--
Nsologumba kanpitepite kunyanja
Nsologumba oluilaita kunyanja.
"Couldn't you tell them another story?" suggested Tom.
With a glance in which Tom detected a shade of reproach, the boy resumed his narrative, and kept the crew engrossed until his master called "easy all" for dinner.