Interwoven with dead limbs and living branches
were the tough and ropelike creepers which formed a tangled network
across their path.
South of them in an open meadowland a number of black warriors were
gathered about an object which elicited much wondering comment. The
blacks were clothed in fragments of what had once been uniforms of
a native German command. They were a most unlovely band and chief
among them in authority and repulsiveness was the black sergeant
Usanga. The object of their interest was a British aeroplane.
Immediately after the Englishman had been brought to Numabo's village
Usanga had gone out in search of the plane, prompted partially by
curiosity and partially by an intention to destroy it, but when he
had found it, some new thought had deterred him from carrying out
his design. The thing represented considerable value as he well
knew and it had occurred to him that in some way he might turn his
prize to profit. Every day he had returned to it, and while at
first it had filled him with considerable awe, he eventually came
to look upon it with the accustomed eye of a proprietor, so that
he now clambered into the fuselage and even advanced so far as to
wish that he might learn to operate it.
What a feat it would be indeed to fly like a bird far above the
highest tree top! How it would fill his less favored companions
with awe and admiration! If Usanga could but fly, so great would be
the respect of all the tribesmen throughout the scattered villages
of the great interior, they would look upon him as little less than
a god.
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