A Pride of Lions Read Online Free PDF Page B

English!”
    “That’s why I’m here,” I told her.
    Mr. Doffnang was easy enough to pick out from the little gang of men who surrounded him. He was obviously very pleased to see Hugo again, pumping his hand up and down with increasing enthusiasm. I got the impression that he had been rather lonely on his own while Hugo had been down at the coast.
    “This is Miss deJong,” Hugo introduced me, making his escape as fast as he could.
    The Dutchman swung round to face me. He had a round face with slightly protruding, anxious eyes that flickered here and there in ceaseless activity. His relief at finding someone who spoke his own language I found rather pathetic.
    “Who is that young woman?” he asked immediately, pointing a sly, stubby finger in Janice Kemp’s direction.
    I told him all I knew about her, while he nodded his head and sucked anxiously at his upper lip. Finally he began to talk excitedly himself.
    “You can have no idea what I have suffered from that woman! Daily she has been coming round the site, making trouble with this man and that man. And me, I can say nothing to her—nothing at all!”
    I had difficulty in not laughing. “What kind of trouble?” I
    asked curiously.
    “She has only to appear!” he said crossly. “Take a look at her, Miss deJong, take a look! Waving that long fair hair around! Why doesn’t she bind it up like a decent woman would?”
    “It wouldn’t be very fashionable,” I said dryly.
    I thought Mr. Doffnang would explode with rage. He began a long dissertation on exactly what he thought of fashionable ladies tramping round the National Parks and holding up his work.
    “She plays poker too!” he ended on a brooding note.
    I giggled. “Don’t you?” I asked him.
    He looked very stern and sober. “I do not!”
    But Janice Kemp was only one of his difficulties. He had been given an Indian assistant to help him procure the materials for the new hotel and, as they were totally unable to communicate with one another, Mr. Patel had spent his time wilfully misunderstanding every word that Mr. Doffnang had said to him.
    I began to wonder what I had let myself into, but I couldn’t help liking Mr. Doffnang. Beneath his anxieties, I suspected there lurked the same kind of sense of humour that my father had. Sooner or later the absurdity of his situation would strike him and his fright at being totally cut off by the language barrier would fall away. Or at least I hoped it would!
    “We’ll sort it out tomorrow, Mr. Doffnang,” I comforted him. “If you’ll excuse me now, I must go and find out where I’m sleeping and get clean again.”
    He nodded disconsolately. “It’s getting dark,” he agreed. “But why should this girl want to come here? Tell me that! Never mind Mr. Patel! Did you know that last night an elephant walked through the camp? I could hear it breathing from my bed!”
    I swallowed nervously. “I’m sure it’s quite safe really,” I murmured.
    Mr. Doffnang made an expressive noise in the back of his throat. “You will find out!” he threatened. “But, by all means, go now. You must have had an uncomfortable ride, no?”
    I smiled. “It wasn’t too bad!” I said.
    I looked around the camp and an African came running, bidding me to follow him and he would show me to my tent.
    “My name is Katundi,” he told me with dignity on the way down the earthen path that ran along the line of tents. “If you need anything, you have only to call me. Would it please you if I prepared a shower for you now?”
    “Oh, please!” I said.
    He left me at the entrance to my tent after showing me how to zip myself into it at night. The groundsheet was welded on to the sides to give added security against insects and other small animals and there was mosquito netting on all the windows, which could also be covered by canvas flaps to give one greater privacy. The tent itself was really very comfortable. A strip of matting had been laid on the floor beside the