Portrait of King Prempeh.
"On through the deep, dark aisles, still foggy with the morning mist and wet with the dripping dew. Twisting and turning, now up, now down, clambering over giant tree-roots or splashing through the sucking mud—all in moist and breathless heat, till, tired and dripping, we reach the next site for a camp. Two hours' rest for mid-day chop, and then parade. More delays, more excuses, and at last every man has his tool issued to him, and every company has its work assigned to it. No. 1 to clear the bush. No. 2 to cut stockade posts. No. 3 to cut palm-leaf wattle. No. 4 to dig stockade holes. No. 5 to mount sentries and prevent men hiding in huts; and so on, till every one is at work. We lay out the plan and trace of the fort that is to be built, and of the huts that are to form the camp.
"'Hallo! where are the hole-diggers?'
"'They have retired to have some chop.'
"'Chop? they've only just finished two hours of chop.'
"'Yes—but the white chief works them so hard that they have big appetites.'
"'They—and you, their chief—will all be fined a day's pay.'
"'Yes, well, the white man is powerful. Still, we prefer that to not having our chop. Many thanks.'
"'Oh, but you'll have to work as well. See this little instrument? That's a hunting-crop. Come, I'll show you how it can be used. I'll begin on you, my friend!'