The steamer drove up stream while the crocodiles, startled by the wash
of the boat, slid sullenly down the bank and dived.
A short, bearded man, dressed in white duck, stood on deck at the
bows, where the steamer's name, _Peace_, was painted. He was George
Grenfell. His keen eyes gleamed through the spectacles that rested on
his strong, arched nose. By his side stood his wife, looking out up
the river. They were searching for the landing-place and the hut-roofs
of some friendly river-side town.
At last as the bows swung round the next bend in the river they saw
a village. The Africans rushed to the bank and hurriedly pushed out
their tree-trunk canoes. Grenfell shouted an order. A bell rang. The
screw stopped and the steamer lay-to while he climbed down into the
ship's canoe and was paddled ashore. The wondering people pushed and
jostled around them to see this strange man with his white face.
_The Slave Girls_
As they walked up among the huts, speaking with the men of the town,
Grenfell came to an open space. As his quick eyes looked about he saw
two little girls standing bound with cords. They were tethered
like goats to a stake. Their little faces and round eyes looked all
forlorn. Even the wonder of the strange bearded white man hardly kept
back the tears that filled their eyes.
Pages:
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155