"So much for Da Souza," he said.

"And now I should like to know, Mr.Stanley Cathcart, what the devil you and your assistant are doing shacking here in the cool of the day when you are the servants of the Bekwando Company and there's work to be done of the utmost importance?
The whole place seems to be asleep.
Where's your labour?
There's not a soul at work.

We planned exactly when to start the road.

What the mischief do you mean by wasting a fortnight ?" Cathcart coughed and was obviously ill-at-ease, but he answered with some show of dignity.
"I have come to the conclusion, Mr.Trent, that the making of the road is impracticable and useless.

There is insufficient labour and poor tools, no satisfactory method of draining the swampy country, and further, I don't think any one would work with the constant fear of an attack from those savages." "So that's your opinion, is it ?" Trent said grimly.
"That is my opinion," Cathcart answered.