Utter darkness brought no respite, but the fascination of flitting shadows and the ever-new mystery of African night.

The train drew up at last in a station in the shadow of great overleaning mountains, and the heat shut down on us like hairy coverings.

We seemed to breathe through thicknesses of cloth, and the very trees that cast black shadow on the platform ends were stifling for lack of air.
"One hour for dinner!" called the guard, walking limply along the train.
"Just an hour for dinner! Dinner waiting!" He was not at all a usual-looking guard.

He was dressed in riding breeches and puttee leggings, and wore a worn-out horsey air as if in protest against the obligation to work in a black man's land.

In countries where the half-breed and the black man live for and almost monopolize government employment few white men take kindly to braid and brass buttons.