the reeds, and that's why it is so empty. But this happened long ago,
much before my time, and I don't suppose they will ever cross the river
again."

"If I might ask, what brought you here, Captain?" I said, for the point
was one on which I felt curious.

"That which brings most men to wild places, Mr. Quatermain--trouble. If
you want to know, I had a misfortune and piled up my ship. There were
some lives lost and, rightly or wrongly, I got the sack. Then I started
as a trader in a God-forsaken hole named Chinde, one of the Zambesi
mouths, you know, and did very well, as we Scotchmen have a way of
doing.

"There I married a Portuguese lady, a real lady of high blood, one of
the old sort. When my girl, Inez, was about twelve years old I got into
more trouble, for my wife died and it pleased a certain relative of hers
to say that it was because I had neglected her. This ended in a row and
the truth is that I killed him--in fair fight, mind you. Still, kill him
I did though I scarcely knew that I had done it at the time, after which
the place grew too hot to hold me. So I sold up and swore that I would
have no more to do with what they are pleased to call civilisation on
the East Coast.

"During my trading I had heard that there was fine country up this way,
and here I came and settled years ago, bringing my girl and Thomaso, who
was one of my managers, also a few other people with me. And here I have
been ever since, doing very well as before, for I trade a lot of ivory
and other things and grow stuff and cattle, which I sell to the River
natives. Yes, I am a rich man now and could go to live on my means in