CHAPTER 10 PART ONE OF HOW I FOUND LIBINGSTON The twentieth of September had arrived.  I was very weak from the fever that had attacked me the day before, and it was the most injudicious act to commence a march under such circumstances, but I had boasted to Sheikh bin Nasib that a white man never breaks his word, and my reputation as a white man would have been ruined had I stayed behind or postponed the march in consequence of feebleness. I mustered the entire caravan outside the tembe. Our flags and streamers were unfurled. The men had their loads resting on the walls. There was considerable shouting and laughing and necroidal fanfare not. The Arabs had collected from curiosity's sake to see us off, all except Sheikh bin Nasib, whom I had offended by mayas and in opposition to his wishes.  Poor Sheikh! If thou hadst only known what was at the bottom of this stubbornness, this ass-like determination to proceed the wrong way, what wouldst thou then have said, O Sheikh? But the Sheikh comforted himself with the thought that I might know what I was about better than he did, which is most likely. Only neither he nor any other Arab will ever know exactly the motive that induced me to march at all westward, when the road to the east was ever so much easier. My braves whom I had enlisted for a rapid march somewhere out of Onyanyambi were named as follows.  The goods with which I had burdened them consisted of a thousand Doti or four thousand yards of cloth, six bags of beads, four loads of ammunition, one tent, one bed and clothes, one box of medicine, sextant and books, two loads of tea, coffee and sugar, one load of flour and candles, one load of canned meats, sardines and miscellaneous necessaries, and one load of cooking utensils. The men were all in their places except Bombay. Bombay had gone, he could not be found. I dispatched a man to hunt him up. He was found weeping in the arms of his Delilah. Why did you go away, Bombay, when you knew I intended to go and was waiting? Oh, Master, I was saying good-bye to my missus. Oh, indeed. Yes, Master, you know a do-it when you go away? Silence, sir! Oh, all right.  Oh, nothing. As I saw he was in a humour to pick a quarrel with me before those Arabs who had congregated outside of Metembe to witness my departure, and as I was not in a humour to be balked by anything that might turn up, the consequence was that I was obliged to thrash Bombay, an operation which soon cooled his hot cola, but brought down on my head a loud chorus of remonstrances from my pretended Arab friends. Now, Master, don't, don't stop it, Master, the poor man knows better than you what he and you may expect on the road you are now taking. If anything was better calculated to put me in a rage than Bombay's insolence before a crowd, it was this gratuity at his interference with what I considered my own a special business. But I restrained myself, though I told them in a loud voice that I did not choose to be interfered with unless they wished to quarrel with me. No, no, Banner, they all exclaimed, we do not wish to quarrel with you, in the name of God, go on your way in peace. Fare you well, then, said I, shaking hands with them. Farewell, Master, farewell! We wish you were a sure all success, and God be with you and guide you. March! A parting salute was fired, the flags were raised up by the Guides, each because he rushed for his load, and in a short time with songs and shouts the head of the expedition had filed round the western end of my tembe, along the road to Uganda. Now, Mr. Shaw, I am waiting, sir, and your donkey if you cannot walk. Please, Mr. Stanley, I am afraid I cannot go. Why? I don't know, I am sure, I feel very weak. So am I weak, it was but late last night as you know that the fever left me. But back out before these Arabs, remember you are a white man. Here, Salim, my brookie, Bombay, help Mr. Shaw and his donkey and walk by him. Oh, bang, bang it, said the Arabs, don't take him, do you not see he is sick?  The last of my party had gone. The tembe, so lately a busy scene, had already assumed a naked, desolate appearance. I turned towards the Arabs, lifted my hat, and said again, farewell, then faced about for the south, followed by my four young gun-bearers, Salim, Kalulu, Majwara, and Bilali. After half an hour's march the scenery became more animated. People began to be amused. Bombay had forgotten our quarrel, and assured me if I could pass Mirambo's country, I should catch the Tenganica. My brookie Burton also believed we should. Salim was glad to leave Unir Niembe, where he had suffered so much from fever, and there was a something in the bold aspect of the hills which cropped upward, above fair valleys that enlivened and encouraged me to proceed. In an hour and a half we arrived at our camp in the Kinyamwezi village of Unquenque, the birthplace of our famous Chanta Maganga. My tent was pitched, the goods were stored in one of the tembe's, but one half the men had returned to Guihara to take one more embrace of their wives and concubines. Towards night I was attacked once again with the intermittent fever, before morning it had departed, leaving me terribly prostrated with weakness. I had heard the men conversing with each other over their campfires upon the probable prospects of the next day. It was a question with them whether I should continue the march. Mostly all were of the opinion that since the master was sick there would be no march. A superlative obstinacy, however, impelled me on, merely despite their supine souls. But when I sailed out of my tent to call them to get ready, I found that at least twenty were missing, and Livingston's letter-carrier, Cahif Halak, or How Do You Do, had not arrived with Dr. Livingston's letter-bag. Selecting twenty of the strongest and faithfulest men, I dispatched them back to Uunir Niambe in search of the missing men, and Salim was sent to Sheikh Ben Naseeb to borrow or buy a long slave-chain. Towards night my twenty detectives returned with nine of the missing men. So a Gigi had deserted in a body, and they could not be found. Salim also returned with a strong chain, capable of imprisoning within the collars attached to it at least ten men. Cahif Halak also appeared with the letter-bag which he was to convey to Livingston under my escort. The men were then addressed, and the slave-chain exhibited to them. I told them that I was the first white man who had taken a slave-chain with him on his travels, but as they were all so frightened of accompanying me I was obliged to make use of it, as it was the only means of keeping them together. The good need never fear being chained by me. Only the deserters, the thieves who received their hire and presents, guns and ammunition, and then ran away. I would not put anyone this time in chains, but whoever deserted after this day I should halt and not continue the march till I found him, after which he should march to you Gigi with the slave-chain round his neck. Do you hear? Yes, was the answer.  Yes. We broke up camp at six p.m., and took the road for Inesuka, at which place we arrived at eight p.m. When we were about commencing the march the next morning, it was discovered that two more had deserted. Baraka and Bombay were at once dispatched to Unerniembe to bring back the two missing men as Mani and Kengaru, with orders not to return without them. This was the third time that the latter had deserted, as the reader may remember. While the pursuit was being affected we halted at the village of Inesuka, more for the sake of sure than anyone else. In the evening the incorrigible deserters were brought back, and as they had threatened were well flogged and chained, to secure them against further temptation. Bombay and Baraka had a picturesque story to relate to the capture, and as I was in an exceedingly good humour their services were rewarded with a fine cloth each. On the following morning another carry had absconded, taking with him his hire of fifteen new cloths and a gun, but to halt anywhere near Unerniembe any longer was a danger that could be avoided only by travelling without stoppages towards the southern jungle lands. It will be remembered that I had in my train the redoubtable Abdul Qaeda the tailor. He who had started from Bagamoya with such bright anticipations of the wealth of ivory to be obtained in the great interior of Africa. On this morning, daunted by the reports of the dangers ahead, Abdul Qaeda craved to be discharged. He vowed he was sick and unable to proceed any further. As I was pretty well tired of him, I paid him off in cloth, and permitted him to go. About half way to Casaghera, Mabruch Salim was suddenly taken sick. I treated him with a grain of caramel and a couple of ounces of brandy. As he was unable to walk, I furnished him with a donkey. Another man named Zaidi was ill with a rheumatic fever, and shortumbled twice off the animal he was riding, and required an infinite amount of coaxing to mount again. Verily, my expedition was pursued by adverse fortunes, and it seemed as if the fates had determined upon our return. It really appeared as if everything was going to wreck and ruin. If I were only fifteen days from Unyanyembe, thought I, I should be saved. Casaghera was the scene of rejoicing the afternoon and evening of our arrival. The absentees had just returned from the coast, and the youths were brave in their gaudy bedisement. Their new basatis, their suharis, and long cloths of bright new kaniki, with which they had adorned themselves behind some bush before they had suddenly appeared dressed in all this finery. The women high-hide like maynads, and the lululuing was loud, frequent, and fervent the whole of that afternoon. All flag-dansels looked up to the youthful heroes with intense admiration on their features. Old women coddled and fondled them. Staff-using, stooping-backed patriarchs blessed them. This is fame in Unyanyemwezi. All the fortunate youths had to use their tongues until the wee hours of next morning had arrived, relating all the wonders they had seen near the great sea, and in the Anguja, the island of Zanzibar, of how they saw great white men's ships and numbers of white men, of their perils and trials during their journey through the land of the fierce Wagogo, and diverse other facts with which the reader and I are by this time well acquainted. On the twenty-fourth we struck camp, and marched through a forest of inbeti wood in a south-south west direction, and in about three hours came to Kigandu. On arriving before this village, which is governed by a daughter of Nkisiwa, we were informed we could not enter unless we paid toll. As we would not pay toll, we were compelled to camp in a ruined, rat-infested bomber situated a mile to the left of Kigandu. Being well scolded by the cowardly natives for deserting Nkisiwa in his hour of extremity, we were accused of running away from the war. Almost on the threshold of our camp, sure in endeavouring to dismount, lost his stirrups and fell prone on his face. The foolish fellow actually laid on the ground in the hot sun of full hour, and when I coldly asked him if he did not feel rather uncomfortable, he sat up and wept like a child. Do you wish to go back, Mr. Shaw? If you please, I do not believe I can go any further, and if you would only be kind enough I should like to return very much. Well, Mr. Shaw, I have come to the conclusion that it is best you should return. My patience has worn out. I have endeavoured faithfully to lift you above these petty miseries which you nourish so devotedly. You are simply suffering from hypercondria.  Mark my words. To return to Unenebi is to die.  Supposing you are delirious, how can any of the soldiers know what you want or what is beneficial and necessary for you?  Oh, dear me, I wish I had never ventured to come. I thought life in Africa was so different from this. I would rather go back if you will permit me. The next day was a halt, and arrangements were made for the transportation of Shaw back to Quihara. A strong litter was made, and four stout Pagazis were hired at Quigando to carry him. Bread was baked, a canteen filled with cold tea, and a leg of a kid was roasted for his sustenance while on the road. The night before we parted we spent together.  But though it was only a miserable ten dollar affair, I thought the homely tunes evoked from the instrument that night were divine melodies. The last tune played before retiring was Home Sweet Home. The morning of the twenty-seventh we were all up early. There was considerable viz in our movements.  Only those who were healthy and could march fast and long were to accompany me. Sir Brooke Selima left in charge of a native doctor, who was to medicate him for a gift of cloth which I gave him in advance. The horns sounded to get ready. Shaw was lifted in his litter on the shoulders of his carriers. My men formed two ranks, the flags were lifted, and between these two living rows and under those bright streamers, which were to float over the waters of the Tanganaka before he should see them again, Shaw was born away towards the north. While we filed off to the south with quicker and more elastic steps as if we felt an incubus had been taken from us, we ascended a ridge bristling with cyanide boulders of massive size, appearing above a forest of dwarf trees. The view which we saw was similar to that we had often seen elsewhere. An illimitable forest stretching in grand waves far beyond the can of vision. Ridges, forests clad, rising gently one above another until they receded in the dim purple blue distance, with a warm haze floating above them, which though clear enough in our neighbourhood, became impenetrably blue in the far distance. Woods, woods, woods, leafy branches, foliage globes or parachutes, green, brown or seer in colour, forests one above another, rising, falling and receding, a very leafy ocean. The horizon at all points presents the same view. There may be an indistinct outline of a hill far away, or here and there a tall tree higher than the rest conspicuous in its outlines against the translucent sky. With this exception it is the same. The same clear sky dropping into the depths of the forest, the same outlines, the same forest, the same horizon, day after day, week after week. We hurry to the summit of a ridge, expectant of a change, but the weary dyes after wandering over the vast expanse return to the immediate surroundings satiated with the ever-shameness of such scenes. Carlisle, somewhere in his writings, says that though the Vatican is great, it is but the chip of an eggshell compared to the star-fretted dome where Arcturus and Orion glance forever, and I say that though the grove of Central Park, New York, is grand compared to the thin grove seen in other cities, that though the Windsor and the new forests may be very fine and noble in England, yet they are but faggots of sticks compared to these eternal forests of Oniomwezi. We marched three hours, and then halted for refreshments. I perceived that the people were very tired, not yet inured to a series of long marches, or rather not in proper trim for earnest hard work after our long rest in Quihara. When we resumed our march again there were several manifestations of bad temper and weariness, but a few good-natured remarks about their laziness put them on their metal, and we reached Uganda at two p.m. after another four hours' spurt. Uganda is a very large village in the district of Uganda, which adjoins the southern frontier of Oniomwezi. The village probably numbers four hundred families, or two thousand souls. It is well protected by a tall and strong palisade of three-inch timber. Stages have been erected at intervals above the palisades, with miniature embrasures in the timber for the muskets of the sharpshooters who take refuge within these box-like stages to pick out the chiefs of an attacking force. An inner ditch, with a sand or soil thrown up three or four feet high against the palings, serves as protection for the main body of the defenders, who kneel in the ditch and are thus enabled to withstand a very large force. For a mile or two outside the village all obstructions are cleared, and the besieged are thus warned by sharp-eyed watches to be prepared for the defence before the enemy approaches within musket range. Mirambo withdrew his force of robbers from before this strongly defended village after two or three ineffectual attempts to storm it, and the Uganda have been congratulating themselves ever since upon having driven away the boldest marauder that Oniomwezi has seen for generations. The Uganda have about three thousand acres and a cultivation around their principal village, and this area suffices to produce sufficient grain not only for their own consumption, but also for the many caravans which pass this way for Yufipa and Marungu. However brave the Uganda may be within the strong enclosure with which they have surrounded their principal village, they are not exempt from the feeling of insecurity which fills the soul of Oniomwezi during wartime. At this place the caravans are accustomed to recruit their numbers from the swarms of Pagazis who volunteer to accompany them to the distant Ivory region south, but I could not induce a soul to follow me, so great was their fear of Mirambo and his Rugaraga.  It was asserted that Ambogo was advancing towards Uganda with a thousand Wakanongo, that there was a Vera had attacked a caravan four months previously, that Simbo was scouring the country with a band of ferocious mercenaries, and much more of the same nature and to the same intent. End of Chapter 10, Part 1 Chapter 10, Part 2 of How I Found Livingston. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, read by Anna Simon. How I Found Livingston travels, adventures and discoveries in Central Africa, including four months' residence with Dr. Livingston by Sir Henry M. Stanley. Chapter 10, Part 2, To Marara, Wakanongo. On the 28th we arrived at a small snug village embosomed within the forest called Benta, three hours and a quarter from Uganda. The road led through the cornfields of the Uganda, and then entered the clearings around the villages of Kisari, within one of which we found the proprietor of a caravan who was drumming up carriers for Uffipa. He had been halted here two months, and he made strenuous exertions to induce my men to join his caravan, a proceeding that did not tend to promote harmony between us. A few days afterwards I found on my return that he had given up the idea of proceeding south. Leaving Kisari we marched through a thin jungle of blackjack over sun-cracked ground with here and there a dried-up pool, the bottom of which was well-tremed by elephant and rhinoceros. Buffalo and zebra treks were now frequent, and we were buoyed up with the hope that before long we should meet game. Benta was well supplied with Indian corn and a grain which the natives called churroco, which I take to be vetchous. I purchased a large supply of churroco for my own personal use, as I found it to be a most healthy food. The corn was stored on the flat roofs of the Tambes in huge boxes made out of the bark of the Matundu tree. The largest box I have ever seen in Africa was seen here. It might be taken for a Titan's head-box. It was seven feet in diameter and ten feet in height. On the 29th, after travelling in a south-west by south direction, we reached Kikuru. The march lasted for five hours over sun-cracked plains, growing the blackjack and ebony and dwarf shrubs, above which numerous end-hills of light, chalky-coloured earth appeared like sand dunes. The Mukunguru, a Kisava hilly term for fever, is frequent in this region of extensive forests and flat plains, owing to the imperfect drainage provided by nature for them. In the dry season, there is nothing very offensive in the view of the country. The burnt grass gives rather a somber aspect to the country, covered with the hard-baked tracks of animals which haunt these plains during the latter part of the rainy season. In the forest, numbers of trees lie about in the last stages of decay, and working away with mitre and mane on the prostrate trunks may be seen numberless insects of various species. Impelpably, however, the poison of the dead and decaying vegetation is inhaled into the system, with a result sometimes as fatal as that which is said to arise from the vicinity of the Yupa's tree. The first evil results experienced from the presence of malaria are confined in bowels and an oppressive langer, excessive drowsiness, and a constant disposition to yawn. The tongue assumes a yellowish, sickly hue, colored almost to blackness. Even the teeth become yellow, and are coated with an offensive matter. The eyes of the patient sparkle lustrously, and become suffused with water. These are sheer symptoms of the incipient fever which shortly will rage through the system. Sometimes this fever is preceded by a violent shaking fit, during which period blankets may be heaped on the patient's form, with but little emulation of the deadly chill he feels. It is then succeeded by an unusually severe headache, with excessive pains about the loins and spinal column, which presently will spread over the shoulder blades, and, running up the neck, find a final lodgment in the back and front of the head. Usually, however, the fever is not preceded by a chill. But after langer and torpitude have seized him, with excessive heat, and throbbing temples, the loin and spinal column ache, and raging thirst soon possesses him. The brain becomes crowded with strange fancies, which sometimes assume most hideous shapes. Before the darkened vision of the suffering man, float in a seething atmosphere, figures of created and uncreated reptiles, which are metamorphosed every instant into stranger shapes and designs, growing every moment more confused, more complicated, more hideous and terrible. Unable to bear longer the distracting scene, he makes an effort and opens his eyes and dissolves the delirious dream, only, however, to glide again unconsciously into another dreamland, where another unreal inferno is dioramically revealed and new agonies suffered. Oh, the many, many hours that I have grown to the terrible incubi, which the fits of real delirium evoke. Oh, the wrecking anguish of body that a traveller in Africa must undergo. Oh, the spite, the fretfulness, the vexation, which the horrible phantasmagoria of diabolisms induce. The utmost patience fails to appease, the most industrious attendance fails to gratify, the deepest humility displeases. During these terrible transitions, which induce fierce distraction, Job himself would become irritable, insanely furious, and choleric. A man in such a state regards himself as the focus of all miseries. When recovered, he feels chastened, becomes urbane and ludicrously amiable. He conjures up fictitious delights from all things, which, but yesterday, possessed for him such awful pretentious aspects. His man, he regards with love and friendship, whatever is tried, he views with ecstasy. Nature appears charming. In the dead woods and monotonous forest, his mind becomes overwhelmed with delight. I speak for myself as a careful analysation of the attack, in all its severe, plaintive, and silly faces, appear to me. I used to amuse myself with taking notes of the humours and the terrible, the fantastic and exaggerated pictures that were presented to me, even while suffering the paroxysms induced by fever. We arrived at a large pool, known as Zewani, after a four-hour march in the south-south-west direction, the first of October. We discovered an old, half-burned kambi, sheltered by a magnificent kuyu, sycamore, the giant of the forests of Unyamvesi, which after an hour we transformed into a splendid camp. If I recollect rightly, the stem of the tree measured 38 feet in circumference. It is the finest tree of its kind I have seen in Africa. A regiment might, with perfect ease, have reposed under this enormous dome of foliage during a noon halt. The diameter of the shadow it casts on the ground was 120 feet. The healthful vigor that I was enjoying about this time enabled me to regard my surroundings admiringly. A feeling of comfort and perfect contentment took possession of me, such as I knew not while fretting at Unyamyemba, wearing my life away in inactivity. I talked with my people as to my friends and equals. We argued with each other about our prospects in quite a companiable, sociable vein. When daylight was dying and the sun was sinking down rapidly over the western horizon, vividly painting the sky with the colors of gold and silver, sephron and opal, when its rays and gorgeous tints were reflected upon the tops of the everlasting forest, with the quiet and holy calm of heaven resting upon all around, and infusing even into the untutored minds of those about me, the exquisite enjoyments of such a life as we were now leading in the depths of a great expanse of forest, the only and sole human occupants of it. This was the time, after our day's work was ended, and the camp was in a state of perfect security, when we all would produce our pipes and could best enjoy the labours which we had performed and the contentment which follows the work well done. Outside, nothing is heard beyond the cry of a stray florican, or guinea fowl, which has lost her mate, or the hoarse croaking of the frogs in the pool hard by, or the song of the crickets, which seems to lull the day to rest. Inside our camp are heard the gurgles of the gourd pipes as the men inhale the blue ether, which I also love. I am contented and happy, stretched on my carpet under the dome of living foliage, smoking my short meersham, indulging in thoughts, despite the beauty of the still-gray light of the sky, and of the air of serenity which prevails around, of home and friends and distant America, and these thoughts soon change to my work, yet incomplete, to the man who to me is yet a myth, who, for all I know, may be dead, or may be near or far from me, tramping through just such a forest whose tops I see bound the view outside my camp. We are both on the same soil, perhaps in the same forest, who knows, yet is he to me so far removed that he might as well be in his own little college of Ulva. Though I am even now ignorant of his very existence, yet I feel a certain complacency, a certain satisfaction, which would be difficult to describe. Why is man so feeble and weak that he must tramp, tramp hundreds of miles to satisfy the doubts his impatient and uncurbed mind feels? Why cannot my form accompany the bold flights of my mind and satisfy the craving I feel to resolve the vexed question that ever rises to my lips? Is he alive? O soul of mine, be patient, thou hast the felicitous tranquillity which other man might envy thee. Sufficient for the hour is the consciousness thou hast that thy mission is a holy one. Onward and be hopeful. Monday, the 2nd of October, found us traversing the forest and plain that extends from the Zivani to Manjara, which occupied us six and a half hours. The sun was intensely hot, but the Matundu and Miyombo trees grew at intervals just enough to admit free growth to each tree, while the blended foliage formed a grateful shade. The path was clear and easy. The tempt and firm red soil offered no obstructions. The only propagation we suffered was from the attacks of the Tete, or Panga, swore at fly, which swarmed here. We knew we were approaching an extensive habitat of game, and we were constantly on the alert for any specimens that might be inhabiting these forests. While we were striding onward at the rate of nearly three miles an hour, the caravan I perceived sheared off from the road, resuming it about fifty yards ahead of something on the road to which the attention of the men was directed. On coming up I found the object to be the dead body of a man who had fallen a victim to that fearful scourge of Africa, the smallpox. He was one of Oseto's gang of morores, or guerrillas, in the service of Kaziba of Unyanjembe, who were hunting these forests for the guerrillas of Mirambo. They had been returning from Okonongo from a raid they had instituted against the Sultan of Mbogo, and they had left their comrade to perish in the road. He had apparently been only one day dead. Apopo of this it was a frequent thing with us to discover a skeleton or a skull on the roadside. Almost every day we saw one, sometimes two, of these relics of dead and forgotten humanity. Shortly after this we emerged from the forest and entered a moka, or plain, in which we saw a couple of giraffes, whose long necks were seen towering above a bush they had been nibbling at. This sight was greeted with a shout, for we now knew we had entered the game country, and that near the Gombe Creek or river where we intended to hold, we should see plenty of these animals. A walk of three hours over this hot plain brought us to the cultivated fields of Manyara. Arriving before the village gate we were forbidden to enter, as the country was throughout in a state of war, and it behoved them to be very careful of omitting any party, lest the villagers might be compromised. We were, however, directed to a combi to the right of the village, near some pools of clear water, where we discovered some half-dozen ruined huts, which looked very uncomfortable to tired people. After we'd build our camp, the keringosi was furnished with some clothes to purchase food from the village for the transit of a wilderness in front of us, which was set to extend nine marches, or 135 miles. He was informed that the metemi had strictly prohibited his people from selling any grain whatever. This evidently was the case when the exercise of a little diplomacy. He was informed that the metemi had strictly prohibited his people from selling any grain whatever. This evidently was the case when the exercise of a little diplomacy could only be effective, because it would detain us several days here if we were compelled to send men back to Kikura for provisions. Opening a bale of choice goods, I selected two royal cloths and told Bombay to carry them to him with the compliments and friendship of the white man. The sultan sulkly refused them, and bade him return to the white man and tell him not to bother him. And treaties were of no avail. He would not relent, and the men in exceedingly bad temper and hungry were obliged to go to bed suppolous. The words of Njar, a slave trader, and parasite of the great Shaik bin Nasib, recurred to me. Ah, master, master, you'll find the people will be too much for you and that you'll have to return. The women Njar are bad, the Wakanungo are very bad, the Vazavir are the worst of all. You've come to this country at a bad time, it is war everywhere. And indeed, judging from the tenor of the conversations around our campfires, it seemed but too evident. There was every prospect of a general decamp of all my people. However, I told them not to be discouraged, that I would get food for them in the morning. The bale of choice cloths was opened again next morning, and four royal cloths were this time selected, and two dotes of marikani, and Bombay was again dispatched, burdened with compliments and polite words. It was necessary to be very politic with a man who was so surly and too powerful to make an enemy of. What if he made up his mind to imitate the redoubtable Mirambo, king of Uyoi? The effect of my municipal liberality was soon seen in the abundance of Prevender, which came to my camp. Before an hour went by, there came boxes full of choroko, beans, rice, matama, or dura, and Indian corn, carried on the heads of a dozen villages. And shortly after, Nematemi himself came, followed by about thirty musketeers and twenty spearmen, to visit the first white man ever seen on this road. Behind these warriors came a liberal gift, fully equal in value to that scent to him, of several large gourds of honey, fowls, goats, and enough vetchers and beans to supply my men with four days' food. I met the chief at the gate of my camp, and Boeing profoundly invited him to my tent, which I had arranged as well as my circumstances would permit for this reception. My Persian carpet and bare skin were spread out, and a broad piece of brand new crimson cloth covered my kitander or bedstead. The chief, a tall, robust man, and his chieftains were invited to seep themselves. They cast a look of such gratified surprise at myself, at my face, my clothes, and guns, as is almost impossible to describe. They looked at me intently for a few seconds, and then at each other, which ended in an uncontrollable burst of laughter, and repeated snappings of the fingers. They spoke the Kinyamesi language, and my interpreter Maganga was requested to inform the chief of the great delight I felt in seeing them. After a short period expended in interchanging compliments and a competitive excellence at laughing at one another, their chief desired me to show him my guns. The 16th shooter, the Winchester Rifle, elicited a thousand flattering observations from the excited man, and the tiny, deadly revolvers, whose beauty and workmanship they thought were superhuman, evoked such gratified eloquence that I was feigned to try something else. The double-barreled guns, fired with heavy charges of power, caused them to jump up in a factored alarm, and then to subside into their seats, convulsed with laughter. As the enthusiasm of my guests increased, they seized each other's index fingers, screwed them, and pulled them until I feared they would end in their dislocation. After having explained to them the difference between white men and Arabs, I pulled out my medicine chest, which evoked another burst of rapturous sighs at the cunning neatness of the array of vials. He asked what they meant. Doa, I replied sententiously, a word which may be interpreted medicine. Ah, ah, they murmured admiringly. I succeeded before long in winning unqualified admiration, and my superiority, compared to the best of the Arabs they had seen, was but too evident. Doa, doa, they added.  Take a spoonful and try it, at the same time handing it. Ah, ah, oh, ah, what, eh, what strong beer the white men have. Oh, my throat burns. Ah, but it's good, said I. A little of it makes men feel strong and good, but too much of it makes men bad and they die. Let me have some, said one of the chiefs, and me, and me, and me, as soon as each had tasted. I next produced a bottle of concentrated ammonia, which, as I explained, was for snake bites and headaches. The sultan immediately complained he had a headache and must have a little. Telling him to close his eyes, I suddenly uncorked the bottle and presented it to his majesty's nose. The effect was magical, for he fell back as if shot, and such contortions as his features in the wind are indescribable. His chiefs roared with laughter and clapped their hands, pinched each other, snapped their fingers, and committed many other ludicrous things. I verily believe if such a scene were presented on any stage in the world, the effect of it would be visible instantaneously on the audience. That had they seen it as I saw it, they would have laughed themselves to hysteria and madness. Finally, the sultan recovered himself, great tears rolling down his cheeks, and his features quivering with laughter. Then he slowly uttered the word Kali, hot, strong, quick, or ardent medicine. He required no more, but the other chiefs pushed forward to get one wee sniff, which they no sooner had than all went into perxisms of uncontrollable laughter. The entire morning was passed in this state visit to the mutual satisfaction of all concerned. Oh, said the sultan at parting, these white men know everything, the Arabs are dirt compared to them. That night, Hamdala, one of the guides, deserted, carrying with him his hearer, 27 Doti, and a gun. It was useless to follow him in the morning, as it would have detained me many more days than I could afford, but I mentally vowed that Mr. Hamdala should work out those 27 Doti of cloths before I reached the coast. End of chapter 10, part two. Chapter 10, part three of How I Found Livingston. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Beth Ann. How I Found Livingston travels to ventures and discoveries in Central Africa, including four months' residence with Dr. Livingston. By Sir Henry M. Stanley. Chapter 10, part three. To Marara, Yucanongo. Wednesday, October 4th, saw us traveling to the Gombe River, which is four hours 15 minutes' march from Manara. We had barely left the waving cornfields of my friend Mamanyara before we came inside of a herd of noble zebra. Two hours afterwards, we had entered a grand and noble expanse of parkland whose glorious magnificence and vastness of prospect with a far-stretching carpet of verju darkly flucked here and there by miniature clumps of jungle with spreading trees growing here and there was certainly one of the finest scenes to be seen in Africa, added to which, as I surmounted one of the numerous small knolls, I saw herds after herds of buffalo and zebra, giraffe and antelope, which sent the blood coursing through my veins in the excitement of the moment as when I first landed on African soil. We crept along the plain noiselessly to our camp on the banks of the sluggish waters of the Gombe. Here at last was the hunter's paradise. How petty and insignificant appeared my hunts after small antelope and wild boar. What a foolish waste of energy saw those long walks through damp grasses and through thorny jungles. Did I not well remember my first bitter experience in African jungles when in the maritime region? But this, where is the nobleman's park that can match this scene? Here is a soft, velvety expanse of young grass, grateful shade under those spreading clumps, herds of large and varied game, browsing with an easy rifle range. Surely I must feel amply compensated now for the long southern detour I've made when such a prospect as this opens to view. No thorny jungles and rank-smelling swamps are here to daunt the hunter and to sicken his aspirations after true sport. No hunter could aspire after nobler fill to display his prowess. Having settled the position of the camp, which overlooked one of the pools found in the depression of the Gombe Creek, I took my double-barreled smoothbore and sauntered off to the parkland. Emerging from behind a clump, three fine plump springboks were seen browsing on the young grass just within 100 yards. I knelt down and fired. One unfortunate antelope bounded upward instinctively and fell dead. Its companions sprang high into the air, taking leaps about 12 feet in length as if they were quadrupeds practicing gymnastics and away they vanished, rising up like India rubber balls until a null hid them from view. My success was held with loud shouts by the soldiers who came running out from the camp as soon as they heard the reverberation of the gun and my gunbearer had his knife for the beast's throat out of an affervent Bismillah as he almost severed the head from the body. Hunters were now directed to proceed east and north to procure a meat because in each caravan it generally happens that there are Fundi whose special trade it is to hunt for meat for the camp. Some of these are experts in stocking but often find themselves in dangerous positions owing to the near approach necessary before they can fire their most inaccurate weapons with any certainty. After luncheon consisting of springbok steak, hot corn cake and a cup of delicious mocha coffee, I strolled towards the Southwest accompanied by Kalulu and Majwara, two boy gunbearers. The tiny perpacilla started up like rabbits from me as I stole along through the underbrush. The honey bird hopped from tree to tree chirping its call as if it thought I was seeking the little sweet treasure the hiding place of which it only knew. But no, I neither desired perpacillin or the honey. I was on the search for something great this day. Keen eyed fish eagles and bustards poised on trees above the sinuous Gombe thought and probably with good reason that I was after them. Judging by the ready flight with which both species disappeared as they sighted my approach. Oh no, nothing but hard to be zebra, draught, eland and buffalo this day. After following the Gombe's course for about a mile, delighting my eyes with long looks of the broad and lengthy reaches of water to which I was so long a stranger. I came upon a scene which delighted the innermost recesses of my soul. Five, six, seven, eight, 10 zebras switching their beautiful striped bodies and biting one another within about 150 yards. This scene was so pretty, so romantic. Never did I so thoroughly realize that I was in Central Africa. I felt momentarily proud that I owned such a vast domain inhabited with such noble beasts. Here I possessed within reach of a leaden ball anyone I chose of those beautiful animals the pride of the African forest. It was at my option to shoot any of them. Mine they were without money or without price. Yet knowing this twice I dropped my rifle loath to wound the royal beasts. But crack and a royal one was on his back battling the air with his legs. Ah, it was such a pity. But hasten, draw the keen sharp-edged knife across the beautiful stripes which fold around the throat.  It is done, and I have a superb animal in my feet. Hurrah! I shall taste a Yukonongo zebra tonight. I thought a spring buck and zebra enough for one day's sport, especially after a long march. The Gombe, a large stretch of deep water winding in and out of green groves, calm, placid, with lotus leaves lightly resting on its surface. All pretty, picturesque, peaceful as a summer stream, looked very inviting for a bath. I sought out the most shady spot under a widespread mimosa from which the ground sloped smooth as a lawn to the still, clear water. I ventured to undress and had already stepped into my ankles in the water and had brought my hands together for a glorious dive. When my attention was attracted by an enormously long body which shot into view, occupying the spot beneath the surface which I was about to explore by a header. Great heavens, it was a crocodile. I sprang backward instinctively and this proved my salvation for the monster turned away with the most disappointed look and I was left to congratulate myself upon my narrow escape from his jaws and to register a vow never to be tempted again for the treacherous calm of an African river. As soon as I had dressed, I turned away from the now repulsive aspect of the stream. Installing through the jungle towards my camp, I detected the forms of two natives looking sharply about them and after bidding my young attendants to preserve perfect quiet, I crept on towards them and by the aid of a thick comp of underbrush managed to arrive within a few feet of the natives undetected. Their mere presence in the immense forest unexplained was a cause of uneasiness in the then disturbed state of the country and my intention was to show myself suddenly to them and note its effect which, if it be token to anything hostile to the expedition, could without difficulty be settled at once with the aid of my double-barreled smoothbore. As I arrived on one side of this bush, the two suspicious looking natives arrived on the other side and we were separated by only a few feet. I made a bound and we were face to face. The natives cast a glance at the sudden figure of a white man and seemed petrified for a moment. But then, recovering themselves, they shrieked out, Bana Bana, you don't know us, we are Waka Nongo, who came to your camp to accompany you to Murera and we are looking for honey. Oh, to be sure you are the Waka Nongo. Yes, yes, it is all right now. I thought you might be Ugaruga. So the two parties instead of being on hostile terms with each other burst out laughing, the Waka Nongo enjoyed it very much and laughed heartily as they proceeded on their way to search for the wild honey.  The adventures of the day were over. The azure sky had changed to a dead gray. The moon was appearing just over the trees. The water of the Gombe was like a silver belt. Horse frogs bellowed their notes loudly by the margin of the creek. The fish eagles uttered their dirge-like cries as they were perched high on the tallest trees. Elan snorted their warning to the herds in the forest. Stealthy forms of the carnivore stole through the dark woods outside of our camp. Within the high enclosure of bush and thorn, which we had raised about our camp, all with jollity, laughter, and radiant, genial comfort. Around every campfire, dark forms of men were seen squatted. One man nodded a luscious bone. Another sucked the rich morrow in a zebra leg bone. Another turned the stick, garnished with huge kebabs to the bright blaze. Another held a large rib over the flame. There were others, busy stirring industriously, great black potfuls of yugoli and watching anxiously the meat simmering and the soup bubbling while the firelight flickered and danced bravely and cast a bright glow over the naked forms of the men and gave a crimson tinge to the tall tent that rose in the center of the camp like a temple to some mysterious god. The fires cast their reflections upon the massive arms of the trees as they branched over our camp. And in the dark gloom of their foliage, the most fantastic shadows were visible. Altogether, it was a wild romantic and impressive scene, but little wrecked my men for shadows and moonlight, for crimson tents and temple-like tents. They were all busy relating their various experiences and gorging themselves with the rich meats our guns had obtained for us. One was telling how he had stalked a wild boar and the furious onset the wounded animal made on him, causing him to drop his gun and climb a tree and the terrible grunt of the beast he well-remembered and the whole welkin rang with the peals of laughter which has mimicked powers he voked. Another had shot a buffalo calf and another had bagged a heart of beast. The Wokanungo related their laughable recounter with me in the woods and were lavish in their description of the stores of honey to be found in the woods. And all this time, Selim and his youthful subs were trying their sharp teeth on the meat of a young pig, which one of the hunters had shot, but which nobody else would eat because of the Mohammedan aversion to pig, which they had acquired during their transformation from Negro savagery to the useful docility of the Zanzibar freedman. We halted the two following days and made frequent raids on the herds of this fine country. The first day I was fairly successful again in the sport. I bagged a couple of antelopes, a kudu, a streptocerius with fine twisting horns, and a polybuck, a milimpus, a reddish brown animal standing about three and a half feet with broad prostitutes. I might have succeeded in getting dozens of animals had I any of those accurate heavy rifles manufactured by Lancaster, Riley or Blizzard, whose every shot tells, but my weapons saved my light smooth bore were unfit for African game. My weapons were more for men. With the Winchester rifle and the Starz carbine, I was able to hit anything within 200 yards, but the animals, though wounded, invariably managed to escape the knife until I was disgusted with the P bullets. What is wanted for this country is a heavy bore. Number 10 or 12 is the real bone crusher. That will drop every animal shot in its tracks, by which all fatigue and disappointment are avoided. Several times during these two days was I disappointed after most laborious stalking and creeping along the ground. Once I came suddenly upon Elend, while I had a Winchester rifle in my hand, the Elend and myself mutually astonished at not more than 25 yards apart. I fired at his chest and bullet, true to its aim, sped far into the eternal parts and the blood spouted from the wound. In a few minutes he was far away and I was too much disappointed to follow him. All love of the chase seemed to be dying away before these several mishaps. What were two antelopes for one day sport to the thousands that browsed over the plane? The animals taken to camp during our three day sport were two buffaloes, two wild boar, three heartabase, one zebra, and one palla. Besides which were shot eight guinea fowls, three florecan, two fish eagles, one pelican, and one of the men caught a couple of large sylerous fish. In the meantime the people had cut, sliced, and dried this bound to the store of meat for a transit through the long wilderness before us. Saturday the 7th of October, we broke up camp to the great regret of the meat-loving, gormandizing huanguana. They delegated Bombay early in the morning to speak to me and in a treat of meat to stop one day longer. It was ever the case they had always an unconquerable aversion to work when in the presence of meat. Bombay was well scolded for bearing any such request to me after two days rest, during which time they had been filled to repletion with meat, and Bombay was by no means in the best humor. Fleshpots full of meat were far more to his taste than a constant tramping and its consequent fatigues. I saw his face settle into a sulky ugliness and his great netherlip hanging down limp, which meant as if expressed in so many words, well, get them to move yourself, you wicked hard man, I shall not help you. An ominous silence followed my order to the Kirungozi to sound the horn, and the usual singing and chanting were not heard. The men turned sullenly to their bells, and as Mani, the gigantic guide, Arfundi, was heard grumblingly to say he was sorry he had engaged to guide me to the Tanganyika. However they started, though reluctantly. I stayed behind with my gun-bearers to drive the stragglers on. In about half an hour I sighted the caravan at a dead stop, with the bells thrown on the ground, and the men standing in groups conversing angrily and excitedly. Taking my double-barreled gun from Salim's shoulder, I selected a dozen charges of buckshot, and slipping two of them into the barrels and adjusting my revolvers in order for handy work, I walked on towards them. I noticed that the men seized their guns as I advanced. When within 30 yards of their groups, I discovered the heads of two men appear above an ant hill on my left, with the barrels of their guns carelessly pointed toward the road. I halted through the barrel of my gun into the hollow of the left hand, and then, taking a deliberate aim at them, threatened to blow their heads off if they did not come forward to talk to me. These two men were Gigantic Asmany and his sworn companion Mabruki, the Guides of Sheikh Ben Naseeb. As it was dangerous not to comply with such an order, they presently came. But, keeping my eye on Asmany, I saw him move his fingers to the trigger of his gun and bring his gun to a ready. Again, I lifted my gun and threatened him with instant death if he did not drop his gun. Asmany came on in a side-long way with a smirking smile on his face, but in his eyes shown the lurid light of murder as plainly as ever it shone in a villain's eyes. Mabruki sneaked to my rear, deliberately putting powder in the pan of his musket, but sweeping the gun sharply around, I planted the muzzle of it at about two feet from his wicked-looking face and ordered him to drop his gun instantly. He let it fall from his hand quickly and, giving him a vigorous poke in the breast with my gun, which sent him really in a way a few feet from me, I faced round to Asmany and ordered him to put his gun down, accompanying it with nervous movement of my gun, pressing gently on the trigger at the same time. Never was a man nearer his death than was Asmany during those few moments. I was reluctant to shed his blood and I was willing to try all possible means of avoiding doing so, but if I did not succeed in cowing this ruffian, authority was at an end. The truth was they feared to proceed further on the road and the only possible way of inducing them to move was by an overpowering force and exercising my power and will in this instance, even though he might pay the penalty of his disobedience with his death. As I was beginning to feel that Asmany had passed his last moment on earth, as he was lifting his gun to his shoulder, a form came up from behind him and swept his gun aside with an impatient, nervous movement. And I heard Mabruki burton say in horror-struck accents, Man, how dare you point your gun at the master? Mabruki then threw himself at my feet and endeavored to kiss them and entreated me not to punish him. It was all over now, he said. There will be no more quarreling. They will go as far as the Tanganyika without any more noise, and inshallah, said he, we shall find the old Masunga at Yujiji. Speak men, freed men, shall we not, shall we not go to the Tanganyika without any more trouble? Tell the master with one voice. Aywala, aywala, Banayango, Hamuno, Meneno, Magini, which literally translated means, yes by God, yes by God, my master, there are no other words, said each man, loudly. Ask the master's pardon, men, or go thy way, said Mabruki, preemptorily, to Esmani, which Esmani did to the gratification of us all. It remained only for me to extend a general pardon to all except to Bombay and Umbari, the instigators of the mutiny, which was now happily quelled. For Bombay could have, by a word, as my captain nipped all manifestation of bad temper at the outset, had he been so disposed. But no, Bombay was more averse to marching than the cowardliest of his fellows, not because he was cowardly, but because he loved indolence. Again the word was given to March, and each man, with astonishing alacrity, seized his load and filed off quickly out of sight. End of chapter 10 part three. Chapter 10 part four of How I Found Livingston. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Beth Ann. How I Found Livingston travels, adventures, and discoveries in Central Africa, including four months' residence with Dr. Livingston. By Sir Henry M. Stanley. Chapter 10 part four. To Marara, Yucanongo. While on this subject, I may as well give here a sketch of each of the principal men whose names must often appear in the following chapters. According to rank, they consist of Bombay, Mabruki Burton, Asmani the guide, Chauprara, Ulamango, Kamizi, Ambari, Juma, Fajari the cook, Maganga the mañamweezy, Salim the Arab boy, and youthful Kalulu, a gun bearer. Bombay has received an excellent character from Burton and Speak. Incarnation of honesty, Burton, grandly terms him. The truth is, Bombay was neither very honest, nor very dishonest. I.e. he did not venture to steal much. He sometimes contrived cunningly as he distributed the meat to hide a very large share for his own use. This peccadillo of his did not disturb me much. He deserved as captain a larger share than the others. He required to be closely watched, and when aware that this was the case, he seldom ventured to appropriate more cloth than I would have freely given him, had he asked for it. As a personal servant or valet, he would have been unexceptional, but as a captain or a jamander over his fellows, he was out of his proper sphere. It was too much brainwork and was too productive of anxiety to keep him in order. At times, he was helplessly imbecile in his movements, forgot every order the moment it was given him, consistently broke or lost some valuable article, was fond of argument and addicted to bluster. He thinks Hajji Abdullah, one of the wickedest white men born because he saw him pick up men's skulls and put them in sacks as if he was about to prepare a horrible medicine with them. He wanted to know whether his former master had written down all he himself did, and when told that Burton had not said anything in his books upon the lake regions upon collecting skulls at Kilwa, he thought I would be doing a good work if I published this important fact. Bombay intends to make a pilgrimage to visit Speaks Grave someday. I find upon returning to England that Captain Burton has informed the world of this wicked and abominable deed in his book, upon Zanzibar, and that interesting collection may be seen at the Royal College of Surgeons London.   He is entirely out of his element as a valet. He might as well be clerk. As a watchman, he is invaluable. As a second captain or fundee, whose duty it is to bring up stragglers, he is super excellent.  Asmani the guide is a large fellow, standing over six feet with the neck and shoulders of Hercules. Besides being guide, he is a fundee, sometimes called fundee asmani or hunter. A very superstitious man who takes great care of his gun and talisman-plated cord, which he has dipped in the blood of all the animals he has ever shot. He is afraid of lions and will never venture out where lions are known to be. All other animals he regards as gang and he is indefatigable in their pursuit. He has seldom seen without an apologetic or treacherous smile on his face. He could draw a knife across the man's throat and still smile. Chowprara is a sturdy, short man of 30 or thereabouts, very good-natured and humorous. When Chowprara speaks in his dry Mark Twain style, the whole camp laughs. I never quarreled with Chowprara. Never did quarrel with him. A kind word given to Chowprara is sure to be reciprocated with a good deed. He is the strongest, the healthiest, the amiabilist, the faithfulest of all. He is the embodiment of a good follower. Kameezy is a neat, cleanly boy of 20 or thereabouts, active, loud-voiced, a boaster and the cowardliest of the cowardly. He will still at every opportunity. He clings to his gun most affectionately. He's always excessively anxious if a screw gets loose or if a flint will not strike fire. Yet I doubt that he would be able to fire his gun at an enemy from excessive trembling. Kameezy would rather trust his safety to his feet, which are small and well-shaped. Ambari is a man of about 40. He is one of the faithfuls of speak and one of my faithfuls. He would not run away from me except when in the presence of an enemy, an imminent personal danger. He is clever in his way but is not sufficient and clever to enact the part of captain. Could take charge of a small party and give a very good account of them. Is lazy and an admirer of good living, a boar's marching unless he has nothing to carry but his gun. Juma is the best abused man of the party because he has old womanish ways with him. Yet in his old womanish ways he is disposed to do the best he can for me, though he will not carry a pound in weight without groaning terribly at his hard fate. To me, he is sentimental and pathetic. To the unimportant members of the caravan, he is stern and uncompromising. But the truth is that I could weld his buns with Juma's presence. He was one of the incorrigible inulities, aiding far more than he was worth besides being an excessively grumbling and querulous fool. Ulamango, a strong stalwart fellow of 30, was the maddest and most harebrained of my party. Though an errant coward, he was a consummate boaster. But though a devotee of pleasure and fun, he was not averse from work. With 100 men such as he, I could travel through Africa provided there was no fighting to do. It will be remembered that he was the martial Corifeus who led my little army to war against Marambu, chanting the battle song of the Wangwana. And that I stated that when the retreat was determined upon, he was the first of my party to reach the stronghold of Mafutu. He is a swift runner and a fair hunter. I have been indebted to him on several occasions for a welcome addition to my larder. Faraji, a former dishwasher to speak, was my cook. He was promoted to this office upon the defection of Bundar Salam and the extreme non-fitness of Abdul Qadir. For cleaning dishes, the first corn cob grain twig, a bunch of green leaves or grass answered Faraji's purpose in the absence of a cloth. If I ordered a plate and I pointed out a black, greasy, sooty thumb mark to him, a rub of a finger Faraji thought sufficient to remove all objections.  Every pound of meat and every three spoonfuls of mush or porridge I ate in Africa contained at least 10 grains of sand. Faraji was considerably exercised at a threat I made to him that on arrival at Zanzibar I would get the great English doctor there to open my stomach and count every grain of sand found in it for each grain of which Faraji should be charged $1. The consciousness that my stomach must contain a large number for which the forfeits would be heavy made him feel very sad at times. Otherwise Faraji was a good cook, most industrious if not accomplished. He could produce a cup of tea and three or four hot pancakes within 10 minutes after a halt was ordered for which I was most grateful as I was almost always hungry after a long march. Faraji sided with Baraka against Bombay in Unyoro and when Speak took Bombay's side of the question, Faraji, out of love for Baraka, left Speak's service and so forfeited his pay. Maganga was a manya-mweezy, a native of Makhwenkwi, a strong faithful servant, an excellent pagazi with an irreproachable temper. He it was who at all times on the march started the wildly exuberant song of the Wanyamweezy porters, which no matter how hot the sun or how long the march was sure to produce gady and animation among the people. At such times all hands sang, sang with voices that could be heard miles away which made the great forests ring with the sounds which startled every animal, big or little for miles around. On approaching a village, the temper of whose people might be hostile to us, Maganga would commence his song with the entire party joining in the chorus by which mode we knew whether the natives were disposed to be friendly or hostile. If hostile or timid, the gates would at once be closed and dark faces would scallot us from the interior. If friendly, they rushed outside of their gates to welcome us or to exchange friendly remarks. An important member of the expedition was Selim, the young Arab. Without someone who spoke good Arabic, I could not have obtained the friendship of the chief Arabs in Unyan Yanbei. Neither could I have communicated with them for though I understood Arabic, I could not speak it. I have already related how Kalulu came to be in my service and how he came to bear his present name. I soon found how apt and quick he was to learn in consequence of which he was promoted to the rank of personal attendant. Even Selim could not buy with Kalulu in promptness and celerity or in guessing my wants at the table.  We arrived at the Zewani in about four hours, 30 minutes from the time of our quitting the scene which had well-nigh witnessed a sanguinary conflict. The Zewani or pool contained no water, not a drop, until the parched tongues of my people warned them that they must proceed and excavate for water. This excavation was performed by means of strong hard sticks sharply pointed in the dry hard caked bottom. After digging to a depth of six feet, their labors were rewarded with the sight of a few drops of muddy liquid percolating through the sides which were eagerly swallowed to relieve their raging thirst. Some voluntarily started with buckets, gourds and canteens south to a deserted clearing called the Tongoni in Yukimba. And in about three hours returned with a plentiful supply for immediate use of good, clear water. In one hour, 30 minutes, we arrived at this Tongoni or deserted clearing of the Wakumba. Here where three or four villages burnt and an extensive clearing desolate, the work of the Wa-Rugaruga of Marumbu. Those of the inhabitants who were left after the spoilation and complete destruction of the flourishing settlement immigrated westerly to Yugara. A large herd of buffalo now slaked their thirst at the pool which supplied the villages of Yukimba with water. Great masses of iron hemitate cropped up above the surfaces in these forests. Wild fruit began to be abundant. The wood apple and tamarand and a small plum-like fruit furnished us with many an agreeable repast. The honey bird is very frequent in these forests of Yukinongo. Its cry is a loud quick chirrup. The Wakonongo understand how to avail themselves of its guidance to the sweet treasure of honey which the wild bees have stored in the cleft of some great trees. Daily, the Wakonongo who joined our caravan brought me immense cakes of honeycomb containing delicious white and red honey. The red honeycomb generally contains large numbers of dead bees, but our exceedingly gluttonous people thought little of these. They not only ate the honey bees but they ate a good deal of the wax. As soon as the honey bird describes the traveler he immediately utters a series of wild, excited cries, hops about from twig to twig and from branch to branch, then hops to another tree incessantly repeating his chirruping call. The native, understanding the nature of the little bird, unhesitatingly follows him. But perhaps his steps are too slow for the impatient caller upon which he flies back, urging him with louder, more impatient cries to hasten and then darts swiftly forward as if he would show how quickly he could go to the honey store until at last the treasure is reached. The native has applied fire to the bee's nest and secured the honey while the little bird preens himself and chirrups in triumphant notes as if he were informing the biped that without his aid he never could have found the honey. Buffalo, Nats, and Sitsi were very troublesome on this march only to the numerous herds of game in the vicinity. On the 9th of October, we made a long march in a southerly direction and formed our camp in the center of a splendid grove of trees. The water was very scarce on the road. The Wamrema and the Wanyamweezy are not long able to withstand thirst. When water is plentiful, they slake their thirst at every stream and pool. When it is scarce, as it is here and in the deserts of Muranga and Magundu, Makila, long afternoon marches are made. The men previously however filling their gourds so as to enable them to reach the water early next morning. Salim was never able to endure thirst. It mattered not how much of the precious liquid he carried. He generally drank it all before reaching camp and he consequently suffered during the night. Besides this, he endangered his life by quaffing from every muddy pool and on this day he began to complain that he discharged blood, which I took to be an incipient stage of dysentery. During these marches ever since quitting Uganda, a favorite topic at the campfires were the Wa Ruga Ruga and their atrocities and a possible encounter that we might have with these bold rovers of the forest. I verily believe that a sudden onset of half a dozen of Marambu's people would have set the whole caravan a running. We reached Malrafu the next day after a short three hours march. We there found an embassy sent by the Arabs of Unyanyembe to the Southern Watutu bearing presence of several bails in charge of Hassan the Musa Geha. This valiant leader and diplomatist had halted here some 10 days because of wars and rumors of wars in his front. It was said that Mobogo, Sultan of Mobogo in Yucanongo, was at war with the brother of Manwa Sera. And as Mobogo was a large district of Yucanongo, only two days marched from Malrafu, fear of being involved in it was deterring Ol Hassan from proceeding. He advised me also not to proceed as it was impossible to be able to do so without being embroiled in the conflict. I informed him that I intended to proceed on my way and take my chances. And graciously offered him my escort as far as the frontier of Ufipa, from which he could easily and safely continue on his way to the Watutu, but he declined it. We had now been traveling 14 days in a Southwesternly direction having made a little more than one degree of latitude. I had intended to have gone a little further south because it was such a good road. Also, since by going further south, we should have labored under no fear of meeting Marambu. But the report of this war in our front, only two days off compelled me in the interest of the expedition to strike across towards the Tanganyika in a West by North course through the forest, traveling when it was advantageous along elephant tracks and local paths. This new plan was adopted after consulting with Asmani the guide. We were now in Yukonungo, having entered this district when we crossed the Gombe Creek. The next day after arriving at Marifu, we plunged westward in view of the villagers and the Arab ambassador who kept repeating until the last moment that we should certainly catch it. We marched eight hours through a forest where the forest peach or the Mobembu is abundant. The tree that bears this fruit is very like a pear tree and is very productive. I saw one tree upon which I estimated there were at least six or seven bushels. I ate numbers of the peaches on this day. So long as this fruit can be produced, the traveler in these regions need not fear starvation. At the base of a graceful hilly cone, we found a village called Yutendi, the inhabitants of which were in a state of great alarm as we suddenly appeared on the ridge above them. Diplomacy urged me to send forward a present of one Dori to the Sultan, who however would not accept it because he happened to be drunk with Pombe and was therefore disposed to be insolent. Upon being informed that he would refuse any present unless he received four more cloths, I immediately ordered a strong Boma to be constructed on the summits of a little hill, near enough to a plentiful supply of water and quietly again packed up the present in a bale. I occupied a strategically chosen position as I could have swept the face of the hill and the entire space between its base and the village of the Yutendi. Watchmen were kept on the lookout all night but we were fortunately not troubled until the morning when a delegation of the principled men came to ask if I intended to depart without having made a present to the chief. I replied to them that I did not intend passing through any country without making friends with the chief and if their chief would accept a good cloth for me I would freely give it to him. Though they demerred at the amount of the present at first, the difference between us finally ended by my adding a fundo of red beads, summe summe, for the chief's wife. From the hill and ridge of Yutendi, sloped a forest for miles and miles westerly which was terminated by a grand and smooth topped ridge rising 500 or 600 feet above the plain. A four hours march on the 12th of October brought us to a gnola similar to the Gombe which during the wet season flows to the Gombe River and then to the Malagarazi River. A little before camping we saw a herd of nimba or Pala. I had the good fortune to shoot one which was a welcome addition to our fast diminishing store of dried meats prepared in our camp on the Gombe. By the quantity of Bois de Vache we judged buffaloes were plentiful here as well as elephant and rhinoceros. The feathered species were well represented by the ibis, fish eagles, pelicans, storks, cranes, several snowy spoonbills and flamingos. From the gnola or matoni, we proceeded to Mwaru, the principal village of the district of Mwaru, the chief of which is Ka Marambu. Our march lay over desolated clarines much occupied by Ka Marambu's people but who were driven away by Makazawa some 10 years ago during his warfare against Manwar Sera. Nongo, the brother of the latter, now waging war against Mbogo had passed through Mwaru the day before we arrived after being defeated by his enemy. The hilly ridge that bounded the westward horizon visible from Utendu was surmounted on this day. The western slope trends southwest and is drained by the river Murera which empties into the Malagarazi river. We perceived the influence of the Tanganyika even here though we were yet 12 or 15 marches from the lake. The jungles increased in density and the grasses became enormously tall. These points reminded us of the maritime districts of Yukawar and Yukami. We heard from a caravan at this place just come from Yufipa and then a white man was reported to be in Urua whom I suppose to mean Livingston. Upon leaving Mwaru, we entered the district of Murera a chief who once possessed great power and influence over this region.  There were nine bleached skulls stuck on top of as many poles before the principled gate of entrance which told us of existing feuds between the Wakanongo and the Wazavira. This latter tribe dwelt in the country a few marches west of us whose territory we should have to avoid unless we sought another opportunity to distinguish ourselves in battle with the natives. The Wazavira we were told by the Wakanongo of Murera were enemies to all Wangwana. In a narrow strip of marsh between Mwaru and Murera we saw a small herd of wild elephants. It was the first time I had ever seen these animals in their native wildness and my first impressions of them I shall not readily forget. I am induced to think that the elephant deserves the title of King of Beasts. His huge form, the lordly way in which he stares at an intruder on his domain and his whole appearance indicative of conscious might afford good grounds for his claim to that title. This herd as we passed it at the distance of a mile stopped to survey the caravan as it passed and after having satisfied their curiosity the elephants trooped into the forest which bounded the marshy plains southward as if caravans were everyday things to them whilst they, the free and unconquerable lords of the forest and the marsh had nothing in common with the cowardly bipeds who never found courage to face them in fair combat. The destruction which a herd makes in a forest is simply tremendous. When the trees are young, whole swaths may be found uprooted and prostrate which mark the track of the elephants as they trampled their path through wood and break. The boy Salim was so ill in this place that I was compelled to halt the caravan for him for two days. He seemed to be affected with a disease in the limbs which caused him to sprawl and tremble most painfully besides suffering from an attack of acute dysentery. But constant attendance and care soon brought him around again and the third day he was able to endure the fatigue of riding. I was able to shoot several animals during our stay at Marara. The forest outside the cultivation teams with noble animals. Zebra, giraffe, elephant and rhinoceros are most common. Targamon and guinea fowl were also plentiful. The warriors of Marara are almost all armed with muskets of which they take great care. They were very importun in their demands for flints, bullets and powder which I always made it a point to refuse less at any moment of fracas occurring they might use the ammunition less supplied to my own disadvantage. The men of this village were an idle set doing little hunting, gaping, gossiping and playing like great boys. During the interval of my stay at Marara I employed a large portion of my time at mending my shoes and patching up the great rents in my clothes which the thorn species during the late marches had almost destroyed. Westward beyond Marara was the wilderness the transit of which we were warned would occupy nine days. Hence arose the necessity to purchase a large supply of grain which air attempting the great uninhabited void in our front was to be ground and sifted. End of chapter 10 part 4.