It was six months after the Reverend Kenneth McDolan had left for his station that there came to Sanders at his headquarters a woeful deputation, arriving in two canoes in the middle of the night, and awaiting him when he came from his bath to the broad stoep of his house in the morning--a semi-circle of chastened and gloomy men, who squatted on the wooden stoep, regarding him with the utmost misery. "Lord, we are of the Akasava people," said the spokesman, "and we have come a long journey." "So I am aware," said Sanders, with acrid dryness, "unless the Akasava country has shifted its position in the night. What do you seek?" "Master, we are starving," said the speaker, "for our crops have failed, and there is no fish in the river; therefore we have come to you, who are our father." Now this was a most unusual request; for the Central African native does not easily starve, and, moreover, there had come no news of crop failure from the Upper River. "All this sounds like a lie," said Sanders thoughtfully, "for how may a crop fail in the Akasava country, yet be more than sufficient in Isisi? Moreover, fish do not leave their playground without cause, and if they do they may be followed." The spokesman shifted uneasily. "Master, we have had much sickness," he said, "and whilst we cared for one another the planting season had passed; and, as for the fish, our young men were too full of sorrow for their dead to go long journeys." Sanders stared. "Therefore we have come from our chief asking you to save us, for we are starving." The man spoke with some confidence, and this was the most surprising thing of all. Sanders was nonplussed, frankly confounded. For all the eccentric course his daily life took, there was a certain regularity even in its irregularity. But here was a new and unfamiliar situation. Such things mean trouble, and he was about to probe this matter to its depth. "I have nothing to give you," he said, "save this advice--that you return swiftly to where you came from and carry my word to your chief. Later I will come and make inquiries." The men were not satisfied, and an elder, wrinkled with age, and sooty-grey of head, spoke up. "It is said, master," he mumbled, through his toothless jaws, "that in other lands when men starve there come many white men bringing grain and comfort." "Eh?" Sanders' eyes narrowed. "Wait," he said, and walked quickly through the open door of his bungalow. When he came out he carried a pliant whip of rhinoceros-hide, and the deputation, losing its serenity, fled precipitately. Sanders watched the two canoes paddling frantically up stream, and the smile was without any considerable sign of amusement. That same night the _Zaire_ left for the Akasava country, carrying a letter to the Reverend Kenneth McDolan, which was brief, but unmistakable in its tenor.