I Fancy
He Has Got A Monday Head (Kipling), But He Revives As The Day Goes
On.
As we go on, the banks become hills and the broad river, which
has been showing sheets of sandbanks in all directions, now narrows
and shows only neat little beaches of white sand in shallow places
along the bank.
The current is terrific. The Eclaireur breathes
hard, and has all she can do to fight her way up against it. Masses
of black weathered rock in great boulders show along the exposed
parts of both banks, left dry by the falling waters. Each bank is
steep, and quantities of great trees, naked and bare, are hanging
down from them, held by their roots and bush-rope entanglement from
being swept away with the rushing current, and they make a great
white fringe to the banks. The hills become higher and higher, and
more and more abrupt, and the river runs between them in a gloomy
ravine, winding to and fro; we catch sight of a patch of white sand
ahead, which I mistake for a white painted house, but immediately
after doubling round a bend we see the houses of the Talagouga
Mission Station. The Eclaireur forthwith has an hysteric fit on her
whistle, so as to frighten M. Forget and get him to dash off in his
canoe to her at once. Apparently he knows her, and does not hurry,
but comes on board quietly. I find there will be no place for me to
stay at at Njole, so I decide to go on in the Eclaireur and use her
as an hotel while there, and then return and stay with Mme.
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