Mrs. Pollifax on Safari by Dorothy Gilman Read Free Book Online

Falls!”
    “I suppose you had to give rides to everyone?”
    “Well, but wasn’t it providential that I did? Otherwise I’d still be down near Penga somewhere with a flat tire. It’s not at all like the States, Dad. Nobody asked for a ride, but how could I drive by them when I had a car and they didn’t? Hello,” she said, smiling warmly at Mrs. Pollifax. “Hello,” she added, nodding to Mrs. Lovecraft and Mr. Kleiber.
    “Well, you’ve not made it with much time to spare,” said her father, sounding like fathers everywhere.
    “Yes, but I made it, didn’t I?” said Lisa, grinning. “And who’s holding us up now? See you all later,” she called over her shoulder, and began propelling her father toward the hotel.
    On the way to the entrance they passed Homer carrying luggage for another guest. The Reeds stopped to speak to him, leaving the newest member of the party waiting patiently, a faint smile on his lips. He was a man of average height, perhaps fifty, carrying an attaché case and a battered trench coat over his arm. He was still dressed for traveling, Mrs. Pollifax noted, in a light suit that must once have been well-cut but was wrinkled now.He wore his hair rather long; it was jet black, with streaks of pure white.
    The group abruptly dissolved and Homer came toward them smiling. “We now have Mr. McIntosh,” he said, gesturing at the man beside him. “We go. Gentlemen, if you will be so kind as to get in the bus now?”
    The two men and the boy Chanda climbed into the seat in the far rear, next the luggage. Mr. McIntosh crawled past Mrs. Lovecraft to sit in the space between her and Mr. Kleiber. Homer closed and locked the doors and a moment later they were off, driving on the left side of the road like the British.
    They passed the National Assembly building with its roof sheathed in copper and gleaming in the sun. They passed neat rows of government housing and then a shantytown with thatched-roof huts, and finally, leaving the city behind, a satellite station that had been built by the Japanese, Homer told them. As the traffic thinned they sped past fields of cotton, sunflowers and maize, and the pedestrians along the side of the road increased: women walking with loads of firewood balanced carefully on their heads, a few men wheeling bicycles. Then these, too, vanished and they settled down to the long road ahead, moving steadily toward the Mungwa mountain range. The sun began to look surprisingly low on the horizon to Mrs. Pollifax, and when she commented on this she was startled to learn that in Zambia the sun set at six o’clock. She began to understand some of the urgency behind Homer’s driving; certainly he drove like a man pursued by
something
, and now it was heartening to realize the something was darkness, because she had no desire to be caught among wild animals in the darkeither. The excessive speed rendered conversation almost impossible, however; everything rattled and it was necessary to cling to one’s seat
    An hour later Mrs. Pollifax was still clinging to her seat when Homer placed his foot on the brake and nearly sent her through the windshield. Up ahead she saw a roadblock, a gaily striped red-and-white pole extending from one side of the road to the other.
    From the rear Mr. Kleiber called, “And what is this?”
    “The bridge,” said Homer. “All our bridges are guarded by the police.”
    “Good heavens why?” asked Mrs. Pollifax, turning to look at him in surprise.
    “Rhodesian spies,” he said with a shrug. “They try to bomb our bridges. We have three in Zambia, all of them over the Kafue River.” He pronounced it
Ka-fooey.
    “Rhodesian
spies
?” repeated Mrs. Pollifax.
    “Yes, spies. They are everywhere.” With a jerk of his head to the left he added, “The police live over there.”
    Mrs. Pollifax glancd to the left and saw a cluster of corrugated tin houses down near the river, shaded by a circle of acacia trees. She started to speak but Homer’s