I Find Bum And Monrovia
Boy, And Learn That During My Absence Xenia, Who Always Fancies
Himself As A Path-Finder, Has Taken The Lead, And Gone Off Somewhere
With The Rest.
We shout and the others answer, and we join them,
and it soon becomes evident to the meanest intelligence
That Xenia
had better have spent his time attending to those things of his
instead of going in for guiding, for we are now right off the track
we made through the grass on our up journey, and we proceed to have
a cheerful hour or so in the wet jungle, ploughing hither and
thither, trying to find our way.
At last we pick up the top of a tongue of forest that we all feel is
ours, but we - that is to say, Xenia and I, for the others go like
lambs to the slaughter wherever they are led - disagree as to the
path. He wants to go down one side of the tongue, I to go down the
other, and I have my way, and we wade along, skirting the bushes
that fringe it, trying to find our hole. I own I soon begin to feel
shaky about having been right in the affair, but soon Xenia, who is
leading, shouts he has got it, and we limp in, our feet sore with
rugged rocks, and everything we have on, or in the loads, wringing
wet, save the matches, which providentially I had put into my soap-
box.
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