“But they didn’t. Instead of rivets there came an invasion, an infliction, a visitation. It came in sections during the next three weeks, each section headed by a donkey carrying a white man in new clothes and tan shoes, bowing from that elevation right and left to the impressed pilgrims. A quarrelsome band of footsore sulky niggers trod on the heels of the donkey; a lot of tents, camp-stools, tin boxes, white cases, brown bales would be shot down in the courtyard, and the air of mystery would deepen a little over the muddle of the station. Five such installments came, with their absurd air of disorderly flight with the loot of innumerable outfit shops and provision stores, that, one would think, they were lugging, after a raid, into the wilderness for equitable division. It was an inextricable mess of things decent in themselves but that human folly made look like the spoils of thieving. “But they didn’t come. Instead we got an invasion. It came in parts over the next three weeks. Each part was led by a white man in new clothes and tan shoes riding a donkey. The agents were all impressed by him. A group of ragged, worn-out black porters followed him, carrying a lot of tents and boxes into the station. Five such chaotic caravans came over the next three weeks, each looking like a gang of thieves running from a supply store to divide up their loot. All of the objects looked normal on their own, but in the hands of these caravans they looked like a jumble of stolen goods.