"I say, I don't like this. These natives are in the bush," I said. He assured me earnestly it was all right.
"They are simple people," he added; "well, I am glad you came. It took me all my time to keep them off."
"But you said it was all right," I cried. "Oh, they meant no harm," he said; and as I stared he corrected himself, "Not exactly." Then vivaciously, "My faith, your pilot-house wants a clean-up!"
In the next breath he advised me to keep enough steam on the boiler to blow the whistle in case of any trouble.
"One good screech will do more for you than all your rifles. They are simple people," he repeated.
He rattled away at such a rate he quite overwhelmed me. He seemed to be trying to make up for lots of silence, and actually hinted, laughing, that such was the case.
"Don't you talk with Mr. Kurtz?" I said.
"You don't talk with that man -- you listen to him," he exclaimed with severe exaltation. "But now -- "