CHAPTER XI. THROUGH THE FOREST TO MAZAMBONI'S PEAK.

In the country of the Balessé—Their houses and clearings—Natives of Bukiri—The first village of dwarfs—Our rate of progress increased—The road from Mambungu's—Halts at East and West Indékaru—A little storm between "Three o'clock" and Khamis—We reach Ibwiri—Khamis and the "vile Zanzibaris"—The Ibwiri clearing—Plentiful provisions—The state of my men; and what they had recently gone through—Khamis and party explore the neighbourhood—And return with a flock of goats—Khamis captures Boryo, but is released—Jephson returns from the relief of Captain Nelson—Departure of Khamis and the Manyuema—Memorandum of charges against Messrs. Kilonga-Longa & Co. of Ipoto—Suicide of Simba—Sali's reflections on the same—Lieutenant Stairs reconnoitres—Muster and re-organisation at Ibwiri—Improved condition of the men—Boryo's village—Balessé customs—East Indenduru—We reach the outskirts of the forest—Mount Pisgah—The village of Iyugu—Heaven's light at last! The beautiful grass-land—We drop across an ancient crone—Indésura and its products—Juma's capture—The Ituri river again—We emerge upon a rolling plain—And forage in some villages—The mode of hut construction—The district of the Babusessé—Our Mbiri captives—Natives attack the camp—The course of the Ituri—The natives of Abunguma—Our fare since leaving Ibwiri—Mazamboni's Peak—The east Ituri—A mass of plantations—Demonstration by the natives—Our camp on the crest of Nzera-Kum—"Be strong and of a good courage"—Friendly intercourse with the natives—We are compelled to disperse them—Peace arranged—Arms of the Bandussuma.

1887.
Oct. 28.
Yumbu. We marched for two hours to Yumbu, and in four and a quarter hours on the following day to Busindi.

We were now in the country of the Balessé. The architecture was peculiar. Its peculiarity consisted in a long street flanked by a long low wooden building, or rather planked building, on either side, 200, 300, or 400 feet long. At first sight one of these villages appeared like a long gable-roofed structure sawn in exact half along the ridge of the roof, and as if each half house had been removed backward for a distance of 20 or 30 feet, and 1887.
Oct. 29.
Busindi. then along the inner sides been boarded up, and pierced with low doors, to obtain entrance into independent apartments. The light wood of the Rubiacæ affords good material for this kind of house. A sizeable tree, 1 foot 18 inches, or 2 feet in diameter, is felled, and the log is cut into short pieces from four to six feet in length; the pieces are easily split by hard wedges, and with their small neat adzes they contrive to shape the plank smooth, tolerably even, and square. They are generally an inch or an inch and a quarter thick. For what is called the ceiling or inner boarding, the boards are thinner and narrower. When a sufficient number of boards and planks are ready, the inner ceiling is lashed to the uprights, frequently in as neat a fashion as a carpenter's apprentice might do it with saw, nails and hammer; on the outer side of the uprights are lashed the thicker planks, or broad slabs, the hollow between the inner and outer frame is then stuffed with the phrynia, or banana leaves. The wall facing the street may be 9 feet high, the back wall facing the forest or clearing is 4 or 4½ feet high, the width of the house varies from 7 to 10 feet. Altogether it is a comfortable and snug mode of building, rather dangerous in case of fire, but very defensible, with trifling labour.

SHIELDS OF THE BALESSÉ.

1887.
Oct. 29.
Busindi. Another peculiarity of the Balessé is the condition of their clearings, and some of these are very extensive, quite a mile and a half in diameter, and the whole strewn with the relics, débris, and timber of the primeval forest. Indeed I cannot compare a Balessé clearing to anything better than a mighty abattis surrounding the principal village, and over this abattis the traveller has to find his way. As one steps out of the shadow of the forest, the path is at first, may be, along the trunk of a great tree for 100 feet, it then turns at right angles along a great branch a few feet; he takes a few paces on the soil, then finds himself in front of a massive prostrate tree-stem 3 feet in diameter or so; he climbs over that, and presently finds himself facing the out-spreading limbs of another giant, amongst which he must creep, and twist, and crawl to get footing on a branch, then from the branch to the trunk, he takes a half turn to the right, walks along the tree from which, increasing in thickness, he must soon climb on top of another that has fallen across and atop of it, when after taking a half-turn to the left, he must follow, ascending it until he is 20 feet above the ground. When he has got among the branches at this dizzy height, he needs judgment, and to be proof against nervousness. After tender, delicate balancing, he places his foot on a branch—at last descends cautiously along the steep slope until he is 6 feet from the ground from which he must jump on to another tapering branch, and follow that to another height of 20 feet, then along the monster tree, then down to the ground; and so on for hours, the hot, burning sun, and the close, steamy atmosphere of the clearing forcing the perspiration in streams from his body. I have narrowly escaped death three times during these frightful gymnastic exercises. One man died where he fell. Several men were frightfully bruised. Yet it is not so dangerous with the naked feet, but with boots in the early morning, before the dew is dried, or after a rain, or when the advance-guard has smeared the timber with a greasy clay, I have had six falls in an hour. The village stands in the 1887.
Oct. 29.
Busindi. centre. We have often congratulated ourselves on coming to a clearing at the near approach to camping-time, but it has frequently occupied us one hour and a half to reach the village. It is a most curious sight to see a caravan laden with heavy burdens walking over this wreck of a forest, and timbered clearing. Streams, swamps, watercourses, ditches are often twenty to twenty-five feet below a tapering slippery tree, which crosses them bridge-like. Some men are falling, some are tottering, one or two have already fallen, some are twenty feet above the ground, others are on the ground creeping under logs. Many are wandering among a maze of branches, thirty or more may be standing on one delicate and straight shaft, a few may be posted like sentries on a branch, perplexed which way to move. All this, however, is made much harder, and more dangerous, when, from a hundred points, the deadly arrows are flying from concealed natives, which, thank Heaven, were not common. We have been too cautious for that kind of work to happen often, though we have seldom been able to leave one of these awful clearings without having some man's foot skewered, or some one lamed.

On the 29th we marched to Bukiri or Myyulus, a distance of nine miles in six hours.

A few natives having been tormented and persecuted to submission to the Manyuema, greeted us with cries of "Bodo! Bodo! Ulenda! Ulenda!"; greetings which they accompanied with a flinging motion of the hand, as though they jerked "Away! away!"

The chief was styled Mwani. They wore much polished ironwork, rings, bells, and anklets, and appeared to be partial to many leglets made of calamus fibre, and armlets of the same material, after the manner of Karagwé and Uhha. They cultivate maize, beans, plantains, and bananas, tobacco, sweet potatoes, yams, brinjalls, melons, gourds. Their goats are fine, and of good size. Fowls are plentiful, but fresh eggs are rare.

Among some of these villages there is generally a dome hut of ample size, after the manner of Unyoro, with double porches.

GYMNASTICS IN A FOREST CLEARING.

1887.
Oct. 30.
Busindi. The following day we halted, during which the Manyuema guides took particular care to show our people that they should have no doubt of their contempt for them. They would not allow them to trade with the natives for fear some desirable article would be lost to themselves, they also vociferated at them loudly if they were seen proceeding to the clearing to cut plantains. As I told them, they did not advance in their favour in the least by abandoning the whites, and turning a deaf ear to our adjurations to be manly and faithful. A word, or even a defiant look, was visited with a sharp cut on the naked body with a rattan from slave boys of the six Manyuema guides with us. What awful oaths of vengeance were uttered for all these indignities they suffered!

On the 31st we came across the first village of Dwarfs, and, during the day, across several empty settlements belonging to them. We marched nine miles in five and a quarter hours, and camped in a dwarf's village in the woods.

Stealing continued steadily. On examining the pouches, there was one cartridge out of three pouches. The cartridges were lost, of course! Hilallah, a boy of sixteen, deserted back to Ipoto with my cartridge pouch, and thirty cartridges in it. A man who carried my satchel ran away with seventy-five Winchester cartridges.

The next day we entered the extensive clearing and large settlement of Mambungu's or Nebassé.

Khamis, the chief of the guides, left Ipoto on the 31st, and arrived at this place with seven men, according to agreement with Ismaili, my Manyuema brother.

The track which we followed has enabled us to increase our rate of progress per hour. Along the river bank, by dint of continued work, and devoting seven, eight, nine hours—sometimes ten hours—we could travel from 3 to 7 miles. We were now enabled to make 1½ to 1-3/4, and even 2 miles per hour; but the pace was still retarded by roots, stumps, climbers, 1887.
Nov. 1.
Mambungu's. llianes, convolvuli, skewers, and a multitude of streams, and green-scummed sinks. We could rarely proceed a clear hundred yards without being ordered to halt by the pioneers.

Each day towards evening the clouds gathered, the thunder reverberated with awful sounds through the echoing forest; lightning darted hither and thither, daily severing some tree-top, or splitting a mighty patriarch from crown to base, or blasting some stately and kingly tree; and the rain fell with a drowning plenty which chilled and depressed us greatly in our poor blooded and anæmic state. But during the march, Providence was gracious; the sun shone, and streamed in million beams of soft light through the woods, which brightened our feelings, and caused the aisles and corridors of the woods to be of Divine beauty, converted the graceful thin tree-shafts into marbly-grey pillars, and the dew and rain-drops into sparkling brilliants; cheered the invisible birds to pour out, with spirit, their varied repertory of songs; inspired parrot flocks to vent gleeful screams and whistlings; roused hosts of monkeys to exert their wildest antics; while now and then some deep, bass roar in far-away recesses indicated a family of soko or chimpanzees enjoying some savage sport.

The road from Mambungu's, eastward, was full of torments, fears, and anxieties. Never were such a series of clearings as those around Mambungu, and the neighbouring settlement of Njalis. The trees were of the largest size, and timber enough had been cut to build a navy; and these lay, in all imaginable confusion, tree upon tree, log above log, branches rising in hills above hills; and amongst all this wild ruin of woods grew in profusion upon profusion bananas, plantains, vines, parasites; ivy-like plants, palms, calamus, convolvuli, etc., through which the poor column had to burrow, struggle, and sweat, while creeping, crawling, and climbing, in, through, and over obstacles and entanglements that baffle description.

On the 4th November we were 13-3/4 miles from 1887.
Nov. 4.
Ndugubisha. Mambungu's in the settlement of Ndugubisha, having passed, in the interval, through five deserted forest villages of pigmies.On this day I came near smiling—for I fancied I observed the dawn of happier days foretold by Uledi. Each member of the caravan received one ear of corn, and 15 plantains as rations.

Fifteen plantains and one ear of corn make a royal ration compared to two ears of corn, or a handful of berries, or a dozen fungus. It was not calculated, however, to make men too cheerful, though our people were naturally light-hearted and gay.

"But never mind, my boys," I said, as I doled the spare diet to the hungry creatures; "the morning is breaking; a week more, and then you shall see the end of your troubles."

Verbal reply was not given to me; only a wan smile lightened the famine-sharpened features. Our officers had borne these privations with the spirit ascribed by Cæsar to Antony, and as well as though they were to the manner born. They fed on the flat wood beans of the forest, on the acid wild fruit and strange fungus, with the smiling content of Sybarites at a feast. Yet one of them paid £1,000 for this poor privilege, and came near being thought too dainty for rough African life. They had been a living example to our dark followers, many of whom had probably been encouraged to strive for existence by the bright, hopeful looks our officers wore under our many unhappy afflictions.

On the following day we crossed the watershed between the Ihuru and Ituri rivers, and we now plunged into cool streams flowing to leftward, or towards the Ihuru. Hills rose to the right and left in wooded and ridgy mounts, and after a march of nine and three-quarter miles, we halted for the night at West Indékaru, at the base of a hill whose top rose 600 feet above the village. Another short march brought us to a village perched half-way up a tall mount, which may be designated as East Indékaru, and by aneroid we were 4,097 feet above the ocean. From this village we enjoyed a first view of our surroundings. Instead of 1887.
Nov. 5.
Indékaru. crawling like mighty bipeds in the twilight, 30 fathoms below the level of the white light of the day, compelled to recognize our littleness, by comparison with the giant columns and tall pillar-like shafts that rose by millions around us, we now stood on the crest of a cleared mount, to look upon the leafy world below us. One almost felt as if walking over the rolling plain of leafage was possible, so compact and unbroken was the expanse, extending to a lovely pale blueness as the eyesight followed it to the furthest limits of distinctness—away, far away to an unknown distance the forest tops spread round about a variegated green of plushy texture, broad red patches of tree flowering, and rich russety circles of leaves, not unfrequent. How one envied the smooth, easy flight of the kites and white-collared eagles, sailing gracefully without let or hindrance through the calm atmosphere! Ah! that we had the wings of kites, that we might fly and be at rest from these incorrigibly wicked Manyuema! Whose wish was that? Indeed, I think we all of us shared it, more or less.

On the 7th, while we halted on the mount, the Manyuema monopolizing the village, and our men in the bush, unworthy to be near their nobility, there was a little storm between Saat Tato (Three o'clock), the hunter, and Khamis, the chief of the Manyuema guides. It threatened, from the sound of words, to explode hurtfully at one time. Khamis slapped him in the face. Both were tall men, but Saat Tato was two inches taller, a good soldier, who had seen service in Madagascar and with Sultan Barghash as a sergeant, but who, from his habits of getting drunk by the third hour of each day, was nicknamed "Three o'clock," and dismissed. He was an excellent man, faithful, strong, obedient, and an unerring shot. Given the benefits of twenty-five pounds of food, Saat Tato, at a hint, would have smilingly taken hold of Khamis, and snapped his vertebrae across his knee with the ease that he would have broken a spear staff. I observed Saat Tato closely, for it must be remembered that it had become fully impressed on my mind that my men were quite too broken-spirited. Saat 1887.
Nov. 7.
Indékaru. Tato looked at him a second severely; then, lifting his forefinger, said to Khamis, "It is well, but I should like to see you repeat that blow a little time hence, after I have a little food in me, and filled this stomach of mine. Strike me again, do; I can bear it."

Advancing, and touching Khamis on the shoulder, I said, "Khamis, do not do that again. I do not allow even my officers to strike my men like that."

The ill-humour was increasing, and, little as the Manyuema imagined, they were assisting me to restore the spirit of the Zanzibaris by their cruelty. There were signs that the Christians would prevail after all. The mutual affection expressed between the Moslem co-religionists at the altar of which our men were ready to sacrifice our lives and liberties and their own freedom, had been cooled by the cruelty, perverseness, and niggardliness of the Manyuema. All we had to do was to watch it, bear patiently, and be ready.

To our great comfort Khamis confessed that West Indékaru was the utmost limit of his master Ismaili's territory.

We, however, were not to part from him until we reached Ibwiri.

We marched eleven miles on the 8th of November through a much more open forest, and we could see further into the interior. The road was better, so much so that our rate of marching increased to two miles per hour. The gritty and loamy soil had absorbed the rain, and walking became pleasant. The llianes were not so riotously abundant, only a strong creeper now and then requiring severance. At several places there were granite outcroppings of a colossal size, which were a novelty and added a kind of romantic and picturesque interest to the woods, darkly suggestive of gitanos, bandits, or pigmies.

A march of nine and a half miles on the 9th of November took us to a Pigmies' camp. Until noon a mist had hung over the land. Towards the latter part of the tramp we passed through several lately deserted villages of the dwarfs, and across eight streams. 1887.
Nov. 9.
Indékaru. Khamis, the guide, and his followers, and about half-a-dozen of the pioneers proceeded to Ibwiri, which was only one and a half mile distant, and on the next day we joined them. This was one of the richest and finest clearings we had seen since leaving Yambuya, though had the Expedition been despatched eight months earlier, we should have found scores in the same prosperous condition. Here was a clearing three miles in diameter abounding in native produce, and hitherto unvisited by the Manyuema. Almost every plantain stalk bore an enormous branch of fruit, with from fifty to one hundred and forty plantains attached. Some specimens of this fruit were twenty-two inches long, two and a half inches in diameter, and nearly eight inches round, large enough to furnish Saat Tato the hunter, with his long desired full meal. There was an odour of ripe fruit pervading the air, and as we climbed over the logs and felt our way gingerly along the prostrate timber, I was often asked by the delighted people to note the bunches of mellow fruit hanging temptingly before their eyes.

Before reaching the village Murabo, a Zanzibari headman, whispered to me that there were five villages in Ibwiri, and that each hut in every village was more than a fourth full of Indian corn, but that Khamis and his Manyuema had been storing corn in their own huts, which, according to right of preemption, they had reserved for themselves.

On entering the street of the village, Khamis met me with the usual complaints about the wickedness of the "vile Zanzibaris." Looking down on the ground I saw many a trail of corn which went to corroborate Murabo's story, and as Khamis proposed that the Expedition should occupy the western half of the village, and he and his fifteen Manyuema would occupy the eastern half, I ventured to demur to the proposition on the ground that as we had departed out of his master's territory we claimed all the land to the eastward, and would in future dispense with any suggestion as to what we should do, and that furthermore not a grain of corn, nor plantain, banana, or any other native product in the 1887.
Nov. 10.
Ibwiri. land would leave the country without my permission. He was told, no people on earth could have borne so uncomplainingly such shames, affronts, and insults as had been put upon the Zanzibaris, and that in future they should be permitted to resent all such injuries as they best knew how. Khamis assented submissively to all this.

The first thing after storing goods, and distributing the men to their quarters, was to give fifty ears of corn per man, and to arrange with the natives as to our future conduct towards one another.

Within an hour it was agreed that the western half of the Ibwiri clearing should be granted to us for foraging; that the eastern half, from a certain stream, should be the reserve of the natives. Khamis, the Manyuema, was also induced to enter into the pact. In return for a packet of brass rods, Boryo, the principal chief of the Balessé of the district, presented us with five fowls and a goat.

This was a great day. Since August 31st not one follower of the Expedition had enjoyed a full meal, but now bananas, plantains ripe and green, potatoes, herbs, yams, beans, sugar-cane, corn, melons in such quantities were given them that were they so many elephants they could not have exhausted the stock provided for them in less than ten days. They could gratify to the full the appetite so long stinted and starved.

As we were compelled to wait for Mr. Jephson and some sixty Zanzibaris—forty of the relief party, boat's crew, and convalescents from Ipoto—the good effect of this abundance would be visible in a few clays. It was also one of those settlements we had been anxiously searching for as a recuperating station. On this date the men were hideous to look upon, because of their gaunt nakedness. They were naked, for they had stripped themselves to obtain food from the slaves of the Manyuema at Ugarrowwa's and Ipoto; of flesh they had none, for they had been reduced to bones by seventy-three days of famine and thirteen days of absolute want; of strength they had but little, and they were ill-favoured in every respect; their native colour of oiled bronze had become 1887.
Nov. 10.
Ibwiri. a mixture of grimy black and wood ashes; their rolling eyes betrayed signs of disease, impure blood, and indurated livers; that beautiful contour of body, and graceful and delicate outlines of muscles—alas, alas!—were all gone. They more befitted a charnel-house than a camp of men bound to continually wear fighting accoutrements.

Khamis, the Manyuema guide, offered the next morning to proceed east to search out the road from Ibwiri, for, as he informed me, Boryo, the chief, had told him of a grass-land being not many days off. He thought that with a few of Boryo's natives, and thirty of our riflemen, he could discover something of interest. Calling Boryo to me, he confirmed, as well as we could understand him, that from a place called Mandé, which he said was only two days' good marching—say forty miles—the grass-land could be seen; that herds of cattle came in such numbers to the Ituri river to drink that the river "swelled up." All this chimed with my eager desire to know how far we were from the open country, and as Boryo said he was willing to furnish guides, I called for volunteers. Twenty-eight men came forward, to my surprise, as willing and as eager for new adventures as though they had been revelling in plenty for the last few months. Khamis and his party departed shortly after.

Despite strict prohibition to touch anything on the native reservation of Ibwiri, one of our raiders paid it a visit, and captured nineteen fowls, two of which he had already despatched, the remaining seventeen he had decapitated, but our detectives pounced upon him and his stock, as he and his chum were debating what they should do with the feathers. The flesh and bones did not promise to be any trouble to them. Close by them two men had despatched an entire goat, excepting the head! These facts serve to illustrate the boundless capacity of Zanzibari stomachs.

The natives of Ibwiri had behaved most handsomely, and personally I felt a sense of shame at the ingratitude of my followers. The chief and his family were living with us, and exchanged their greetings of "Bodo, Bodo, 1887.
Nov. 10.
Ibwiri. ulenda, ulenda," half-a-dozen times a day. Yet our men had undergone such extremes of wretchedness during the last two and a half months that we might have well anticipated some excesses would be committed upon the first opportunity. No other body of men in the wide world that I am acquainted with could have borne such a period of hunger so meekly, so resignedly. Not a grain or a bit of human food discoverable anywhere, their comrades dying at every camp, or falling dead along the track, others less patient plunging into the depths of the wilderness maddened by hunger, leaving them to fare as they might under the burdens of war-munitions, and baggage. Goaded by the protracted hunger, and fierce despair, and loss of trust in their officers, they might have seized their Remingtons and, by one volley, have slain their white chiefs, and fed on them, and shaken off power, and, in a moment, the clutch of authority which, so far as they knew, was only dragging them down to certain doom.

While I pitied the natives who had lost their property when they least deserved it, I could not remove from my memory that extended fast in the area of desolation and forest wilderness stretching between the Basopo Rapids and Ibwiri, on the edge of which we were even now located, or their patient obedience—thefts and small practices notwithstanding, their unfaltering fidelity, their kindness to us while we were starving, in bestowing upon us the choicest and finest of the wild fruit they had discovered, and their altogether courageous bearing and noble hopefulness during the terrible days of adversity; all these virtues must needs extenuate their offences, and it was best to await fulness and reflection to assist us in reclaiming them into tractableness and good order. Every mile or two almost of that hungry forest solitude between the Ihuru and Ituri confluence and Ipoto had been marked by the dead bodies of their comrades; there they lay fast mildewing and rotting in the silent gloom, and, but for the fidelity of the survivors, none of those capable of giving intelligent testimony of the stern trials endured during September, October, and 1887.
Nov. 10.
Ibwiri. the half of November, would have lived to relate the sad and sorrowful details.

The more experience and insight I obtain into human nature, the more convinced do I become that the greater portion of a man is purely animal. Fully and regularly fed, he is a being capable of being coaxed or coerced to exertion of any kind, love and fear sway him easily, he is not averse to labour however severe; but when starved it is well to keep in mind the motto "Cave Canem," for a starving lion over a raw morsel of beef is not so ferocious or so ready to take offence. Rigid discipline, daily burdens, and endless marching into regions of which they were perfectly ignorant, never seemed to gall our men much when their stomachs were pampered, and abundant provender for their digestive organs were provided; but even hanging unto death was only a temporary damper to their inclination to excessive mischief when pinched with hunger. The aborigines also of Ibwiri surrounded by plenty are mild and meek enough through pure sleekness, but the dwarfish nomads of the forest are, I am told, as fierce as beasts of prey, and fight till their quivers are empty.

I received word on the 12th that Khamis, the Manyuema who was supposed to have gone for my gratification to explore the country ahead, and to make friends with the aid of the natives, had, owing to perverseness, been unable to accomplish his mission; that he was greatly disappointed, and that he had been attacked by the natives of East Ibwiri and had lost two men. I sent word to him to return.

The fleas of Ibwiri became so intolerable that in order to obtain rest, I had to set my tent in the open street.

On the 13th of November, while taking an inspection of the village camp, and examining into the condition of the men, I was amazed at the busy scene of eating I beheld. Almost every man was engaged in pounding corn, reducing dried bananas into flour, or grinding mouthfuls of food with their fine teeth, making amends for the compulsory fast of September, October and November.

1887.
Nov. 14.
Ibwiri. Khamis returned on the 14th with a large flock of goats obtained from somewhere. He was gracious enough to allow us sixteen head. This inclined us to suspect that the real object of his design was not to explore but to extend the conquests of his master, Ismaili, farther east through our assistance, and to reduce the natives of Ibwiri into the same state of poverty as the neighbourhood of Ipoto, for instance. But though Khamis possessed force sufficient to have accomplished even this last, the silly fellow's greed caused him to behave with such reckless disregard of the poisoned shafts of the natives that he lost three of his men. It seems that as soon as a flock of goats was sighted, Khamis forgot his design to explore, urged his Manyuema to their capture, and retained our people by him. Our men by these tactics returned uninjured without having been engaged in this disgraceful action. Then, as Khamis was returning to our village, mourning the loss of three of his most active comrades, he suddenly met Boryo, the Chief of East Ibwiri, and without a word made him a prisoner. Before reporting to me, Khamis, on arrival, ordered his men to strangle the chief in revenge for the death of his men. Happening to hear of it, I sent a guard to take him by force out of Khamis' hands, and placed him in a hut out of harm's way, and bade Boryo rest quiet until Khamis had departed.

We luxuriated during our days of rest. There had been discovered such an abundance of food that we might safely have rested six months without fear of starving. We enjoyed ripe plantains made into puddings with goats' milk; fritters, patties and bread, sweet potatoes, manioc, yams, herbs, fowls and goat meat without stint. On the evening of this day the menu for dinner was—

Kid soup.
Roast leg of kid, and baked sweet potatoes.
Boiled sweet manioc.
Fried bananas.
Sweet cake of ripe plantain.
Plantain fritters.
Goats' milk.

1887.
Nov. 14.
Ibwiri. Already I noted a change in the appearance of ourselves and followers. There was certainly more noise, and once or twice I heard an attempt at singing, but as there was a well recognised flaw in the voice, it was postponed to another day.

At 3 P.M. of the 16th Mr. Jephson appeared, having performed his mission of relief most brilliantly. As will be seen by Mr. Jephson's letter descriptive of his success, he had been able to proceed to the relief of Captain Nelson, and to return with him to Ipoto within seven days, after a journey of about a hundred miles. Judging from Captain Nelson's letter, he seemed to have been delivered out of his terrible position to fall into a similar desperate strait in the midst of the plenty of Ipoto.

The next day Khamis and his Manyuema returned homeward without taking leave. I despatched a letter to the officers at Ipoto, sent Khamis' ivory and a present of cloth with it to Indékaru, whence the Manyuema might be able to obtain assistance from their own natives. I was never so dissatisfied with myself as when I was compelled to treat these men thus so kindly, and to allow them to depart without even the small satisfaction of expressing my private opinion of Manyuema in general and of the gang at Ipoto in particular. At all points I was worsted; they compelled a generous treatment from me, and finally trapped me into the obligation of being the carrier of their stolen ivory.

Yet I felt grateful to them somewhat that they had not taken greater advantage of my position. With Captain Nelson and Dr. Parke and about thirty men in their power, they might have compelled a thousand concessions from me, which happily they did not. I hoped that after a season of forbearance divine justice would see fit to place me in more independent circumstances. When the Doctor and Nelson and their sick men were recovered and in my camp, and the 116 loads and boat left at Ipoto been conveyed away, then, and not till then, would I be able to cast up accounts, and demand a peremptory and final settlement. The charges were written plainly and fairly, as a memorandum.

1887.
Nov. 17.
Ibwiri.

Messrs. Kilonga Longa and Co., Ipoto.

To Mr. Stanley, officers and men of the E. P. R. Expedition,

November 17th, 1887.

		Dr.
To	having caused the starvation to death between the Lenda River and Ibwiri of 67 men: because we had crossed that river with 271 men—and in camp with those due here shortly there were only 175, and 28 inclusive of Captain Nelson and Dr. Parke—therefore loss of men.	67
To	27 men at Ipoto too feeble to travel, many of whom will not recover.
To	spearing to death Mufta Mazinga.	1
To	flogging one man to death.	1
To	flogging Ami, a Zanzibari, 200 lashes.
To	attempting to starve Captain Nelson and Dr. Parke.
To	instigating robbery of two boxes of ammunition.
To	receiving thirty stolen Remington rifles.
To	various oppressions of Zanzibaris.
To	compelling Sarboko to work as their slave.
To	various insults to Captain Nelson and Dr. Parke.
To	devastating 44,000 square miles of territory.
To	butchery of several thousands of natives.
To	enslaving several hundreds of women and children.
To	theft of 200 tusks of ivory between May, 1887, and October, 1887.
To	many murders, raids, crimes, devastations past, present and prospective.
	To deaths of Zanzibaris	69
	To mischiefs incalculable!

During the afternoon of the 17th we experienced once again the evils attending our connection with the Manyuema. All Ibwiri and neighbouring districts were in arms against us. The first declaration of their hostilities took place when a man named Simba proceeded to the stream close to the camp to draw water, and received an arrow in the abdomen. Realizing from our anxious faces the fatal nature of the wound, he cried out his "Buryani brothers!" and soon after, being taken into his hut, loaded a Remington rifle near him, and made a ghastly wreck of features that were once jovial, and not uncomely.

The reflections of the Zanzibaris on the suicide were curious, and best expressed by Sali, the tent boy.

"Think of it, Simba! a poor devil owning nothing in the world, without anything or anybody dear to him, neither name, place, property, or honour, to commit 1887.
Nov. 17.
Ibwiri. suicide! Were he a rich Arab now, a merchant Hindu, a captain of soldiers, a governor of a district, or a white man who had suffered misfortune, or had been the victim of dishonour or shame, yea, I could understand the spirit of the suicide; but this Simba, who was no better than a slave, an outcast of Unyanyembé, without friends on the face of the earth, save the few poor things in his own mess in this camp, to go and kill himself like a man of wealth! Faugh! pitch him into the wilderness, and let him rot! What right has he to the honour of a shroud and a burial?" This was the sentiment of the men who were once his comrades—though not so forcibly expressed as was done by little Sali in his fierce indignation at the man's presumption.

Early on this morning Lieutenant Stairs and thirty-six rifles were despatched to make a reconnaissance eastward under the guidance of Boryo, and a young Manyuema volunteer, as we had yet a few days to wait for the arrival of several convalescents who, wearied of the cruelties practised at Ipoto on them, preferred death on the road to the horrible servitude of the Manyuema slaves.

On the 19th Uledi, the coxswain of the Advance with his boat's crew, arrived, reporting that there were fifteen convalescents on the way. By night they were in the camp.

On the 21st the reconnoitering party under Lieutenant Stairs returned, Boryo still accompanying them; nothing new about the grass land had been obtained, but they reported a tolerably good path leading steadily eastward, which was as comforting news as we could expect.

On the 23rd, the last day of our stay at Ibwiri, there was a muster and reorganization:—

No. 1 company, Jephson	80	men.
No. 2 company, Stairs	76	"
Soudanese	5	"
Cooks	3	"
Boys	6	"
Europeans	4	"
Manyuema guide	1	"
	175	"

1887.
Nov. 23.
Ibwiri. Inclusive of Captain Nelson and Dr. Parke there were twenty-eight at Ipoto; we had left to recuperate at Ugarrowwa's fifty-six. Some from Nelson's starvation camp under Umari, the headman, probably ten, might return; so that we reckoned the number of the advance column to be 268 still living out of 389 men who had departed from Yambuya 139 days previously, and put down our loss at 111. We were greatly mistaken, however, for by this date many of the sick at Ugarrowwa's had died, and the condition of the sick at Ipoto was deplorable.

Since our arrival at Ibwiri the majority of our followers had gained weight of body at the rate of a pound per day. Some were positively huge in girth; their eyes had become lustrous, and their skins glossy like oiled bronze. For the last three nights they had ventured upon songs; they hummed their tunes as they pounded their corn; they sang as they gazed at the moon at night after their evening meal. Frequently a hearty laugh had been heard. In the afternoon of this day a sparring match took place between two young fellows, and a good deal of severe thumping was exchanged; they were always "spinning yarns" to interested listeners. Life had come back by leaps and bounds. Brooding over skeletons and death, and musing on distant friends in their far-away island, had been abandoned for hopeful chat over the future, about the not far distant grass land with its rolling savannahs, and green champaigns, abounding in fat cattle; and they dwelt unctuously on full udders and massive humps, and heavy tails of sheep, and granaries of millet and sesame, pots of zogga, pombe, or some other delectable stimulant, and the Lake Haven, where the white man's steamers were at anchor, appeared distinctly in their visions.

They all now desired the march, for the halt had been quite sufficient. There were twenty perhaps to whom another fortnight's rest was necessary, but they all appeared to me to have begun recovery, and, provided food was abundant, their marching without loads would not be hurtful.

1887.
Nov. 24.
Ibwiri. At dawn of the bright and sunny day, 24th of November, the Soudanese trumpeter blew the signal with such cheery strains that found a ready response from every man. The men shouted their "Ready, aye ready, Master!" in a manner that more reminded me of former expeditions, than of any day we had known on this. There was no need of the officers becoming exasperated at delays of laggards and the unwilling; there was not a malingerer in the camp. Every face was lit up with hopefulness. A prospective abundance of good cheer invited them on. For two days ahead, the path was known by those of the reconnaissance, and the members of the party had, like Caleb and Joshua, expatiated upon the immense and pendent clusters of plantains effusing delicious odours of ripeness, and upon the garden plots of potatoes, and waving fields of maize, &c. Therefore, for once, we were relieved from the anxiety as to who should take this load, or that box; there was no searching about for the carriers, no expostulations nor threats, but the men literally leaped to the goods pile, fought for the loads, and laughed with joy; and the officers faces wore grateful smiles, and expressed perfect contentment with events.

We filed out of the village, a column of the happiest fellows alive. The accursed Manyuema were behind us, and in our front rose in our imaginations vivid pictures of pastoral lands, and a great lake on whose shores we were to be greeted by a grateful Pasha, and a no less grateful army of men.

In forty-five minutes we arrived at Boryo's village (the chief had been released the day before), a long, orderly arrangement of a street 33 feet wide, flanked by four low blocks of buildings 400 yards in length. According to the doors we judged that fifty-two families had formed Boryo's particular community. The chief's house was recognized by an immense slab of wood four feet wide and six feet long, and two inches thick; its doorway being cut out of this in a diamond figure.

The height of the broad eaves was 10 feet above the ground, and the houses were 10 feet in width. The 1887.
Nov. 24.
Ibwiri. eaves projected 30 inches in front, and 2 feet over the back walls. Outside of the village extended, over level and high ground, the fields, gardens, and plantations, banked all round by the untouched forest, which looked dark, ominous, and unwelcome. Altogether Boryo's village was the neatest and most comfortable we had seen throughout the valley of the Aruwimi. One hundred yards from the western end ran a perennial and clear stream, which abounded with fish of the silurus kind.

After a short halt we resumed the journey, and entered the forest. Four miles beyond Boryo's we passed over a swamp, which was very favourable to fine growths of the Raphia palm, and soon after lunched. In the afternoon I undertook, as an experiment, to count my paces for an hour, and to measure a space of 200 yards, to find the number of inches to a pace, and found that the average rate in a fair track through the forest was 4800 paces of 26 inches long = 3470 yards per hour. At 3 o'clock we camped in an extensive pigmies' village. The site commanded four several roads, leading to villages. There is no doubt it was a favourite spot, for the village common was well tamped and adapted for sport, gossip, and meetings. The bush around the camp was quite undisturbed.

On the 25th, after 8¼ miles march, we reached Indémwani. Our track led along the water-parting between the Ituri and Ihuru rivers. The village was of oval shape, similar in architecture to Boryo's. A wealth of plantains surrounded it, and Indian corn, tobacco, beans, and tomatoes were plentiful. In passing through the clearing, over a fearful confusion of logs, one of our men toppled over, and fell and broke his neck.

From Indémwani we moved on the 26th to West Indenduru, through a most humid land. Streams were crossed at every mile; moss, wet and dripping, clothed stems from base to top. Even shrubs and vines were covered with it.

A peculiarity of this day's march was a broad highway, cut and cleared for 3 miles through the undergrowth, which was terminated by a large village of the pigmies, 1887.
Nov. 26.
Indenduru. but recently vacated. There were ninety-two huts, which we may take to represent ninety-two families, or thereabouts. There was one hut more pretentious than the others, which possibly was the chief's house. We had seen now about twenty villages of the forest pigmies, but as yet we had only viewed the pretty little woman at Ugarrowwa—the miniature Hebé.

Lieutenant Stairs, during his reconnaissance from Ibwiri, had reached West Indenduru, and had left the village standing; but because he had occupied it, the natives had set fire to it after his departure. We observed also that the Balessé seldom ate of the produce of a field twice, and that a plantain grove, after bearing fruit once, is abandoned for another; and a corn plot, after being tilled, sown, and harvested, is left to revert to wilderness. They appear to be continually planting bananas and preparing ground for corn, which accounted for the immense clearings we had passed, and for the thousands of trees that littered the ground in one great ruin. For the bananas or plantains, they simply cut down the underwood and plant the young bulbs in a shallow hole, with sufficient earth to keep it upright. They then cut the forest down, and let the trees lie where they fall. In six months the Musa bulbs have thriven wonderfully under shade and among roots and débris, and grown to 8 feet in height; within a year they have borne fruit. The Indian corn or maize requires sunshine. The trees are cut down well above the buttress, by building scaffolds 10, 15, or even 20 feet high. The logs are cut up, and either split for slabs or lining for the inner and outer walls of their huts, or scooped out for troughs for the manufacture of plantain wine. The branches are piled around the plot to rot; they do not burn them, because that would impoverish the soil, and as the surface is rich in humus, it would burn down to the clay.

Considering what great labour is involved in the clearing of a portion of primeval forest, we were tempted to regard the Balessé as very foolish in burning their villages for such a trivial cause as one night's occupation of them by strangers; but it is an instance of the 1887.
Nov. 26.
Indenduru. obstinate sullenness of these people. Boryo's village, for instance, could scarcely be constructed under a twelvemonth. The population of the largest village we saw could not exceed 600 souls; but while we wonder at their prejudices, we must award credit to them for great industry and unlimited patience to produce such splendid results as we observed.

East Indenduru was also an exceedingly well-built village, and extremely clean, though the houses within swarmed with vermin. The street, however, was too narrow for the height of the buildings, and a fire occurring in the night might easily have consumed half the inhabitants. For the huts were higher than at Boryo's, and as the buildings were a few hundred yards in length, and had only one principal exit at the eastern end, the danger of a fire was such that we did not occupy it without having taken many precautions to avoid a possible disaster in what appeared to be a perfect trap.

Field-beans, of a dark variety, were gathered by the bushel, and our men revelled in the juice of the sugar-cane.

We were now in S. Lat. 1° 22½' and south of the watershed, all streams flowing towards the Ituri.

On the 28th we halted in East Indenduru, and sent three separate reconnoitering parties to obtain a knowledge of the general direction of the routes leading out of the settlement. We had tested the task of forming our own track through the forest long enough, and having discovered one which had been of such service to us, we were loth to revert to the tedious labour of travelling through jungles and undergrowth again.

Jephson's party proceeded S.S.E., and finally S., and at noon turned back to report. This road would not do for us. Rashid's party took one leading E.N.E., and finally north, through two small villages, one path returning southerly, another going north-easterly. Continuing his explorations along the latter, he came to a native camp. There was a slight skirmish; the natives fled, and he obtained a prize of nine fat goats, only five of which they brought to camp. This road would not suit us either.

1887.
Nov. 28.
Indenduru. A third search party was led by a famous scout, who discovered one path heading easterly. We resolved to adopt this.

On the 29th we left Indenduru and journeyed to Indepessu by noon, and in the afternoon sheered by a northerly path to the settlement of the Baburu, having accomplished a distance of ten miles in five hours, which was exceedingly fair walking.

On the next morning, after a march of an hour and a half along a tolerably good path, we emerged in front of an extensive clearing of about 240 acres. The trees were but recently cut. This marked the advent of a powerful tribe, or a late removal to new ground of old settlers of some numerical force, resolved upon securing many creature comforts. A captive woman of the Waburu led the way through the middle of this wide abattis, the very sight of which was appalling. An hour later we had crossed this, not without bruised shins and much trembling, and the path then led up an easy ascent up a prolonged span of a hill. The hollows on either side of it showed prodigious groves of plantains and many gardens, ill-kept, devoted to herbs and gourds. Within thirty minutes from the summit of the ascent we had reached an altitude that promised to give us shortly a more extended view than any we had been lately accustomed to, and we pressed gladly upwards, and soon entered a series of villages that followed the slope. A village of these parts always gave us a highway well trodden, from forty to sixty feet wide; in a series of this type of villages we should soon be able to pace a mile. We had passed through several fine separate long blocks of low structures, when the foremost of the advance guard was seen running swiftly down to meet me. He asked me to look towards the sunrise, and, turning my eyes in that direction, they were met by the gratifying sight of a fairly varied scene of pasture-land and forest, of level champaigns and grassy slopes of valleys and hills, rocky knolls and softly rounded eminences, a veritable "land of hills and valleys, that drinketh the rain of heaven." That the open country was well watered was 1887.
Nov. 30.
Bakwuru. indicated by the many irregular lines of woods which marked the courses of the streams, and by the clumps of trees, whose crowns just rose above their sloping banks.

The great forest in which we had been so long buried, and whose limits were in view, appeared to continue intact and unbroken to the N.E., but to the E. of it was an altogether different region of grassy meads and plains and hills, freely sprinkled with groves, clusters, and thin lines of trees up to certain ranges of hills that bounded the vision, and at whose base I knew must be the goal whither we had for months desired to reach.

VIEW OF MOUNT PISGAH FROM THE EASTWARD.

This, then, was the long promised view and the long expected exit out of gloom! Therefore I called the tall peak terminating the forested ridge, of which the spur whereon we stood was a part, and that rose two miles E. of us to a height of 4600 feet above the sea, Pisgah,—Mount Pisgah,—because, after 156 days of twilight in the primeval forest, we had first viewed the desired pasturelands of Equatoria.

The men crowded up the slope eagerly with inquiring open-eyed looks, which, before they worded their thoughts, we knew meant "Is it true? Is it no hoax? Can it be 1887.
Nov. 30.
Bakwuru. possible that we are near the end of this forest hell?" They were convinced themselves in a few moments after they had dropped their burdens, and regarded the view with wondering and delighted surprise.

"Aye, friends, it is true. By the mercy of God we are well nigh the end of our prison and dungeon!" They held their hands far out yearningly towards the superb land, and each looked up to the bright blue heaven in grateful worship, and after they had gazed as though fascinated, they recovered themselves with a deep sigh, and as they turned their heads, lo! the sable forest heaved away to the infinity of the west, and they shook their clenched hands at it with gestures of defiance and hate. Feverish from sudden exaltation, they apostrophised it for its cruelty to themselves and their kinsmen; they compared it to Hell, they accused it of the murder of one hundred of their comrades, they called it the wilderness of fungi and wood-beans; but the great forest which lay vast as a continent before them, and drowsy, like a great beast, with monstrous fur thinly veiled by vaporous exhalations, answered not a word, but rested in its infinite sullenness, remorseless and implacable as ever.

From S.E. to S. extended a range of mountains between 6,000 and 7,000 feet above the sea. One woman captive indicated S.E. as our future direction to the great water that "rolled incessantly on the shore with a booming noise, lifting and driving the sand before it," but as we were in S. Lat. 1°. 22', on the same parallel as Kavalli, our objective point, I preferred aiming east, straight towards it.

Old Boryo, chief of Ibwiri, had drawn with his hand a semicircle from S.E. to N.W. as the course of the Ituri River, and said that the river rose from a plain at the foot of a great hill, or a range of hills. To the S.E. of Pisgah we could see no plain, but a deep wooded valley, and unless our eyes deceived us, the forest seemed to ascend up the slopes of the range as far as its summits. Five months of travel in one continuous forest was surely experience enough; a change would therefore be agreeable, even if we varied but our hardships. This was another reason 1887.
Nov. 30.
Bakwuru. why I proposed to decline all advice upon the proper path leading to the "great water."

In the village of the Bakwuru, in which we now prepared to encamp, we found sleeveless vests of thick buffalo hide, which our men secured, as fitting armour against the arrows of the tribes of the grass land.

VILLAGES OF THE BAKWURU ON A SPUR OF PISGAH.

On the 1st of December we retraced our steps down the spur, and then struck along a track running easterly. In a short time we ascended another spur leading up to a terrace below Pisgah peak, where we obtained the highest reading of the aneroid that we had yet reached. We then followed a path leading from the terrace down another spur to the average level. A number of well-defined and trodden roads were crossed, but our path seemed to increase in importance until, at 11.15 A.M., we entered the large village of Iyugu, which, of course, was quite deserted, so quickly do the natives of the forest seem to be apprised of new arrivals. The street of this village was forty feet wide.

1887.
Dec. 1.
Bakwuru. We observed a considerable dryness in the woods between Pisgah base and Iyugu, which was a great change from that excessive humidity felt and seen between Indenduru and Ibwiri. The fallen forest leaves had a slightly crispy look about them and crackled under our feet, and the track, though still in primeval shade, had somewhat of the dusty appearance of a village street.

A VILLAGE AT THE BASE OF PISGAH.

Alter the noon halt we made a two hours' march to a small village consisting of three conical huts, near which we camped. Though we had travelled over ten miles we might have been hundreds of miles yet from the open country for all we could gather from our surroundings. For they were, as usual, of tall dense woods, of true tropic character, dark, sombrous and high, bound one to the other with creepers and vines, and a thick undergrowth throve under the shades. 1887.
Dec. 1.
Bakwuru. We, however, picked up a strange arrow in one of the huts, which differed greatly from any we had as yet seen. It was twenty-eight inches in length, and its point was spear-shaped,and three inches long. Its shaft was a light reed cane, beautifully and finely notched for decoration, a thin triangular-shaped piece of kid leather directed the arrow, instead of a leaf or a piece of black cloth as hitherto. A quiver full of forest-tribe arrows was also found, and they were twenty inches long, and each arrowhead differed from the other, though each was murderously sharp and barbed.

CHIEF OF THE IYUGU.

On the 2nd of December, soon after leaving the camp, we lost the native road, and had to pick our way amongst a perplexing number of buffalo and elephant tracks. A stupid fellow, who had been out wandering, had informed us that he had reached the plain the night before, and that he could easily guide us to it. Trusting in him, we soon lost all signs of a track, and began a crooked and erratic course through the woods, as in times past. After nearly three hours' travelling N. by E. we stumbled upon a village, whose conical roofs were thatched with grass. This was a grand discovery, and was hailed with cheers. One fellow literally rushed to the grass and kissed it lovingly. Already there were two characteristics of pasture-land before us, the cone hut and the grass thatch. We halted for a noon rest, and a few young men took advantage of it to explore, 1887.
Dec. 2.
Indésura. and before the halting-time was expired brought to us a bunch of green grass, which was hailed with devout raptures, as Noah and his family may have hailed the kindly dove with the olive branch. However, they reported that the way they had followed led to a swamp, and swamps being a horror to a laden caravan, our afternoon march was made in a S.S.E. direction, which in ninety minutes brought us to Indésura, another village, or rather a district, consisting of several small settlements of cone huts thatched with grass. Here we halted.

Having occasion to repair a roof a man mounted to the top of a house, and looking round languidly was presently seen to lift his hand to his eyes and gaze earnestly. He then roared out loud enough for the entire village to hear, "I see the grass-land. Oh, but we are close to it!"

"Nay," said one in reply, mockingly, "don't you also see the lake, and the steamer, and that Pasha whom we seek?"

Most of us were, however, stirred by the news, and three men climbed up to the roofs with the activity of wild cats, others climbed to the tops of trees, while a daring young fellow climbed one which would have tasked a monkey almost, and a chorus of exclamations rose, "Aye, verily, it is the truth of God, the open land is close to us, and we knew it not! Why, it is merely an arrow's flight distant! Ah, when we reach it, farewell to darkness and blindness."

As a man went to draw water from the stream, close by, an ancient crone stepped out of the bush, and the man dropped his water-pot and seized her. She being vigorous and obstinate, like most of her sex just previous to dotage, made a vigorous defence for her liberty. A Countess of Salisbury could not have been more resolute, but the man possessed superior strength and craft and hauled her into camp. By dint of smiles and coaxing and obsequiously filling a long pipe for her, we learned that we were in Indésura, that the people were called Wanya-Sura, that the villagers quenched 1887.
Dec. 4.
Indésura. their thirst with the waters of the Ituri. "The Ituri?" "Ay, the Ituri; this stream close by;" that many days east of us was a great broad river, ever so much broader than the Ituri, with canoes as wide as a house (ten feet) which would carry six people (sic); that a few days north there was a mighty tribe called the Banzanza, and east of them another people called the Bakandi, and both of these tribes possessed numerous herds of cattle, and were very valorous and warlike, and who were rich in cattle, cowries, and brass wire.

IYUGU; A CALL TO ARMS.

Our ancient captive, who was somewhat peculiar for her taste in personal decoration by having a wooden disk of the size of an ulster button intruded into the centre of her upper lip, was now seized with another fit of obstinacy and scowled malignantly at all of us except at a bashful smooth-faced youth upon whom she apparently doted, but the foolish youth ascribed the ugliness of agedness to witchcraft, and fled from her.

Indésura—and, as we discovered later, all the villages situated on the edge of the forest—was remarkable for the variety and excellent quality of its products. Mostly all the huts contained large baskets of superior tobacco weighing from twenty to fifty pounds each, such quantities, indeed, that every smoker in the camp obtained from five to ten pounds. The crone called it "Taba;" in Ibwiri it was called Tabo. Owing to the imperfect drying it is not fragrant, but it is extremely smokable. Fifty pipefuls a day of it would not produce so much effect on the nerves as one of the article known as Cavendish. But here and there among the leaves there were a few of rich brown colour, slightly spotted with nitre which produced a different effect. Two of our officers experimented on a pipeful of this, which they deemed to be superior, and were inconceivably wretched in consequence. When, however, these leaves are picked out, the tobacco is mild and innocuous, as may be judged by the half-pint pipe-bowls peculiar to this region. In every district near the grass-land the plant is abundantly cultivated, for the purpose of commerce with the herdsmen of the plains in exchange for meat.

1887.
Dec. 4.
Indésura. The castor-oil plant was also extensively cultivated. Requiring a supply of castor-oil as medicine, the beans were roasted, and then pounded in a wooden mortar, and we expressed a fair quantity, which proved very effective. We also required a supply for rifles, and their mechanisms, and the men prepared a supply for anointing their bodies—an operation which made them appear fresh, clean, and vigorous.

PIPES.

Having discovered that four of our scouts were strangely absent, I despatched Rashid bin Omar and twenty men in search of them. They were discovered and brought to us next morning, and to my surprise the four absentees, led by the incorrigible Juma Waziri, were driving a flock of twenty fine goats, which the chief scout had captured by a ruse. I had often been tempted to sacrifice Juma for the benefit of others, but the rogue always appeared with such an inoffensive, and crave-your-humble-pardon kind of face, which could not be resisted. He was of a handsome Abyssinian type, but the hypocrisy on his features marred their natural beauty. A Mhuma, Masai, Mtaturu, or Galla must have meat, even more so than the Englishman. It is an article of faith with him, that life is not worth living without an occasional taste of beef. I therefore warned Juma again, and consoled myself with the reflection, that his career 1887.
Dec. 4.
Indésura. as a scout could only be for a brief time, and that he would surely meet natives of craft and courage equal to his own some day.

We had made an ineffectual start on this day, had actually left the village a few hundred yards when we were stopped by the depth of a river forty yards wide and with a current of two and a half miles an hour. The old crone called this the Ituri. Marvelling that between Ipoto and Ibwiri a river 400 yards wide could be narrowed to such a narrow stream, we had returned to Indésura for a day's halt, and I had immediately after sent Lieutenant Stairs and Mr. Jephson with sufficient escort back along yesterday's path to find a ford across the Ituri.

At 4 P.M. both officers returned to report a successful discovery of a ford a mile and a half higher up the stream, and that they had set foot upon the grass-land, in proof of which they held a bunch of fine young succulent grass. Meantime, Uledi and his party had also found another ford waist deep, still nearer Indésura.

On the evening of this day a happier community of men did not exist on the face of the round earth than those who rejoiced in the camp of Indésura. On the morrow they were to bid farewell to the forest. The green grassy region of which we had dreamed in our dark hours, when slumbering heavily from exhaustion of body and prostration from hunger during the days of starvation, was close at hand. Their pots contained generous supplies of juicy meat; in the messes were roast and boiled fowls, corn mush, plantain flour porridge, and ripe bananas. No wonder they were now exuberantly happy, and all except ten or twelve men were in finer condition than when they had embarked so hopefully for the journey in the port of Zanzibar.

On the 4th of December we filed out of Indésura and proceeded to the ford. It was waist deep, and at this place fifty yards wide. Two of the aneroids indicated an altitude of 3050 feet above the ocean—1850 feet higher than the level of the river at the landing-place of 1887.
Dec. 4.
Grass Land. Yambuya, and 2000 feet higher than the Congo at Stanley Pool.

From the Ituri we entered a narrow belt of tall timber on its left bank, and, after waiting for the column to cross, marched on, led by Mr. Mounteney Jephson along a broad elephant track for about 600 yards, and then, to our undisguised joy, emerged upon a rolling plain, green as an English lawn, into broadest, sweetest daylight, and warm and glorious sunshine, to inhale the pure air with an uncontrollable rapture. Judging of the feelings of others by my own, we felt as if we had thrown all age and a score of years away, as we stepped with invigorated limbs upon the soft sward of young grass. We strode forward at a pace most unusual, and finally, unable to suppress our emotions, the whole caravan broke into a run. Every man's heart seemed enlarged and lifted up with boyish gladness. The blue heaven above us never seemed so spacious, lofty, pure, and serene as at this moment. We gazed at the sun itself undaunted by its glowing brightness. The young grass, only a month since the burning of the old, was caressed by a bland, soft breeze, and turned itself about as if to show us its lovely shades of tender green. Birds, so long estranged from us, sailed and soared through the lucent atmosphere; antelopes and elands stood on a grassy eminence gazing and wondering, and then bounded upward and halted snorting their surprise, to which our own was equal; buffaloes lifted their heads in amazement at the intruders on their silent domain, heaved their bulky forms, and trooped away to a safer distance. A hundred square miles of glorious country opened to our view—apparently deserted—for we had not as yet been able to search out the fine details of it. Leagues upon leagues of bright green pasture land undulated in gentle waves, intersected by narrow winding lines of umbrageous trees that filled the hollows, scores of gentle hills studded with dark clumps of thicket, graced here and there by a stately tree, lorded it over level breadths of pasture and softly sloping champaigns; and far away to the east rose some frowning ranges of mountains beyond which we were 1887.
Dec. 4.
Grass Land. certain slept in its deep gulf the blue Albert. Until breathlessness forced a halt, the caravan had sped on the double-quick—for this was also a pleasure that had been long deferred.

EMERGING FROM THE FOREST.

Then we halted on the crest of a commanding hill to drink the beauty of a scene to which we knew no rival, which had been the subject of our thoughts and dreams for months, and now we were made "glad according to the days wherein we had been afflicted and the period wherein we had seen evil." Every face gloated over the beauty of the landscape and reflected the secret pleasure of the heart. The men were radiant with the fulfilment of dear desires. Distrust and sullenness were now utterly banished. We were like men out of durance and the dungeon free and unfettered, having exchanged foulness and damp for sweetness and purity, darkness and gloom for divine light and wholesome air. Our eyes followed the obscure track, roved over the pasture hillocks, great and small, every bosky islet and swarded level around it, along the irregularities of the forest line that rose darkly funereal behind us, advancing here, receding there, yonder assuming a bay-like canoe, here a cape-like point. The mind grasped the minutest peculiarity around as quick as vision, to cling to it for many, many years. A score of years hence, if we live so long, let but allusion be made to this happy hour when every soul trembled with joy, and praise rose spontaneously on every lip, and we shall be able to map the whole with precision and fidelity.

After examining the contour of the new region before us with the practical view of laying a course free from river or swamp, I led the Expedition N.N.E. to a rocky knoll which was about four miles from us, in order to strike the southern base of a certain hilly range that ran E. by S. from the knoll. I imagined we should then be able to travel over upland, trending easterly, without much inconvenience.

We reached the base of the rock-heap that stood about 300 feet above the valley to our right, then perceiving that the obscure game track we had followed had developed 1887.
Dec. 4.
Grass Land. into a native highway running N.E., we struck across the grassy upland to retain our hold upon the crown we had gained, the short young grass enabling us to do so without fatigue. But near noon the tall unburnt grass of last season interrupted our too-easy advance with its tangle of robust stalks of close growth; but we bore on until 12.30, and after an hour of serious exercise halted by the side of a crystal stream for refreshments.

In the afternoon we breasted the opposing grassy slope, and, after an hour and a half of rapid pacing, selected a camp near the junction of two streams, which flowed south-easterly. Relieved from their burdens, a few tireless fellows set out to forage in some villages we had observed far below our line of march in the valley. The suddenness of their descent among the natives provided them with a rich store of fowls, sugar-cane, and ripe branches of bananas. They brought us specimens of the weapons of this new land: several long bows and lengthy arrows; shields of a heavy rectangular form, formed of a double row of tough rods crossed, and tightly bound together with fibre and smeared with some gummy substance. They presented very neat workmanship, and were altogether impenetrable to arrows or spears. Besides shields the natives wore vests of buffalo hide, which appeared to be quite impervious to pistol shots.

Our course as far as the rocky knoll already described was nearly parallel with the edge of the forest, our path varying in distance from it from a half mile to a mile and a half. As a sea or a lake indents its shore, so appeared the view of the line of forest.

The trend of the Ituri that we had crossed, which we must call West Ituri, was E.S.E.. I should have estimated the source of the river to have been distant from the crossing about 25 geographical miles N.N.W.

On the next day we advanced up a long slope of short grass land, and on the crest halted to arrange the column with more order, lest we might be suddenly confronted by an overwhelming force, for we were as yet ignorant of the land, its people, and the habits of those among whom we had dropped so suddenly. 1887.
Dec. 4.
Grass Land. Marching forward we chose a slight track that followed the crest leading E. by S., but soon all traces of it were lost. However, we were on a commanding upland, and a score of miles were visible to us in any direction out of which we might select any course. A village was in view N.E. of us, and to it we directed our steps, that we might avail ourselves of a path, for the closely-packed acreages of reedy cane and fifteen-feet-high grass, that we stumbled upon occasionally, were as bad as the undergrowth of the jungle. The very tallest and rankest grass impeded us, and prevented rapid advance. We crossed jungly gullies, on whose muddy ground were impressed the feet of lions and leopards, and finally entered a tract of acacia thorn, which was a sore annoyance, and out of this last we emerged into the millet fields of Mbiri. In a few seconds the natives were warned of our approach, and fled instinctively, and, Parthian-like, shot their long arrows. The scouts dashed across every obstacle, and seized a young woman and a lad of twelve, who were the means of instructing our poor ignorance. No long conversation could be maintained with them, owing to our very imperfect knowledge of any dialect spoken near this region, but a few names of nouns assisted by gestures brought out the fact that we were in the district of Mbiri, that the main road easterly would take us to the Babusessé country, that beyond them lay the Abunguma, all of which naturally we heard with supreme indifference. What did such names convey to dull senses and blank minds? They had never heard of Shakespeare, Milton, or even of Her Majesty the Queen.

"Had any of them heard of Muta, or Luta Nzige?"

A shake of the head.

"Of Unyoro?"

"Unyoro? Yes. Unyoro lies a great way off," pointing east.

"Of a great water near Unyoro?"

"The Ituri, you mean?"

"No, wider; ever so much wider than the Ituri—as wide as all this plain."

1887.
Dec. 5.
Babusessé. But instead of confining themselves to monosyllables, which we might easily have understood, the wretched woman and boy, anxious to convey too much information, smothered comprehension by voluble talk in their dialect, and so perplexed us that we had recourse to silence and patience. They would show us the way to Babusessé at least.

The mode of hut construction is similar to that seen all over East and Central Africa. It is the most popular. A cone roof occupies two-thirds of the height; one-third is devoted to the height of the walls. Huts of this pattern, scattered amongst the banana groves, are found every few dozen yards. Paths lead from one to the other, and are most baffling to the stranger, who without a local guide must necessarily go astray. To every group of huts there are attached outhouses for cooking sheds, for gossip, to store fuel, and doing chores; also circular grass-walled and thatched little granaries raised a foot or so above the ground as protection against vermin and damp.

Our people obtained a large quantity of ripe plantains and ripe bananas, out of which the aborigines manufacture an intoxicating wine called marwa. A few goats were also added to our flock, and about a dozen fowls were taken. All else were left untouched according to custom, and we resumed our journey.

The path was well trodden. Traffic and travel had tamped it hard and smooth. It led S.E. by E. up and down grassy hills and vales. Near noon we halted for refreshments, shaded by fine woods, and close by boomed a loud cataract of the Ituri, we were told. This was rather puzzling. We could not understand how the Ituri, which we had forded the day before, could be roaring over precipices and terraces at this high altitude, and after we had purposely struck away from its valley to avoid it.

A march of an hour and a half in the afternoon, apparently not very far from the river, brought us to the populous district of the Babusessé. The banana plantations were very extensive, reminding me of 1887.
Dec. 5.
Babusessé. Uganda, and their deep shades covered a multitude of huts. Fields of millet and sesame, plots of sweet potatoes, occupied the outskirts of these plantations, and there was ample evidence round about that the land was thickly peopled and industriously cultivated.

Before entering the banana shades we repaired our ranks, and marched in more compact order. A strong body of men armed with Winchesters formed the advance guard; a similar number of men armed with Remingtons, under the command of Stairs, closed the rear of the column. But however well cautioned the men were against breaking rank, no sooner had the advance guard passed safely through a dangerous locality than the main body invariably despatched scores of looters into huts and granaries to hunt up booty and fowls, bananas, goats, sugar-cane, and trivial articles of no earthly use. These plantations hid a large number of natives, who permitted the advance to pass because their files were unbroken, and their eyes on the watch, but those straggling looters soon gave the aborigines the opportunity. Some arrows flew well aimed; one pinned a man's arm to his side, another glancing from a rib admonished its owner of his folly. A volley from rifles drove the men away from their covert without harm to any of them.

SHIELDS OF BABUSESSÉ.

At the easternmost settlement we camped. There were only two large conical huts and other outhouses in it, and around these the huts for the night were arranged hastily, put up with banana leaves sufficient to shed rain and dew.

At dusk I called the captives to me again, and attempted, 1887.
Dec. 5.
Babusessé. during half an hour, to gain a lucid answer to the question as to whether there was a great body of water or great river east of us. When one of the headmen who were assisting us demanded to know which was the largest Nyanza, that of Unyoro, or that of Uganda—

"Nyanza!" cried the native boy—"Nyanza? Ay, the Nyanza lies this way" (pointing east) "and extends that way" (north-east) "a long distance;" and when asked how many "sleeps" intervened between the Babusessé, held up three fingers on his dexter hand, and answered "three."

It was now dark, and we were suddenly startled by a shriek of pain, and a sequent yell singularly weird, and with a note of triumph in it, and in the silence that followed we heard the hurtling of arrows through the banana leaves above our heads.

"Put out the fires! Keep cool. Where are the sentries? Why are they not at their posts?" were the next words uttered.

The natives had stolen on us at the very hour when the camp was least watched, for it was supper-time, and the guards, except on unusual occasions, were permitted to feed before going out on guard duty for the night. We soon ascertained that one arrow had penetrated the thigh of a man named Salim to the depth of four inches, another had pierced the roast leg of a kid before the fire, several others had perforated banana stalks. Salim, after a little coaxing, bravely drew out the shaft until the barbed point was seen, when, with a wrench, I extracted it with a pair of pincers. Eucalyptine was then applied to the wound, and the man was sent to his quarters.

Half an hour later, all the guards being now on duty, however, the natives essayed another quarter of the camp, but the rifle-shots rang out quickly in reply, and there was a scamper and a rustle heard. In the distance we heard two rifles fired, and an agonised cry, by which we knew that there were some of our incorrigible looters abroad.

Our force was weak enough, in all conscience, not in numbers, but in real strength, for defence and capacity 1887.
Dec. 5.
Babusessé. for bearing ammunition, and these wanderers were always a source of great anxiety to me. It was useless to reason and expostulate; only downright severity restrained them, and as yet, so fresh were we from the horrors of the forest, that I had not the moral courage to apply the screw of discipline; but when I assumed mildness, their own heedless imprudence incurred punishments far more severe than any of us would ever have thought of inflicting.

A heavy rain fell on us during the night, which detained us next morning until eight o'clock. I employed the time in extracting something intelligible respecting the character of the natives in front, but we were all so profoundly ignorant of the language that we could make but little headway. In the endeavour to make herself clear, the woman drew on the ground a sketch of the course of the Ituri. This illustrated one of the strangest facts in African geography that one could imagine. The river was represented as going up to the crest of the watershed, flowing steeply upward parallel with Lake Albert, and finally lifting itself over to be precipitated into the Nyanza! Stupefied by what she said, I kept her by me as we marched out of camp into the open. From the crown of a hill she pointed out, half a mile below, the Ituri River flowing eastward. The stretch in view was an east by south course.

Now here was a deep puzzle. We had crossed from the right bank to the left bank of the Ituri two days previously, in N. Lat. 1° 24': we were now in N. Lat. 1° 28'. Yet the Ituri we saw flowed E. by S. and E.S.S., and my route to Kavalli was obviously south of east.

I declined to perplex myself any more with the problem, or in trying to understand what the woman meant, that the river we had ascended for 600 miles from the Congo flowed to the Nyanza. The only solution possible was that there were two Ituris, one flowing to the Congo, the other into the Nile basin; but both she and her brother stoutly maintained that there was only one Ituri.

1887.
Dec. 5.
Babusessé. We continued on our journey, following a path which dipped down into the valley. We presently stood on the banks of the stream, and the solution was at hand. It was the main Ituri River, flowing south of west! We are all wise after the event.

There was a clumsy, misshapen canoe in the river, and as Saat Tato was an expert canoeist, he was detailed to ferry the caravan over for a reward of 20 dollars. The river was 125 yards broad, about seven feet average depth, with a current of two knots. It was a cataract of this stream whose low thunder we had heard near Mbiri.

The natives of Abunguma, on the left side of the river, watched our operations from a hill-top a mile off, with an air of confidence which seemed to say, "All right, friends. When you are through, you will have to reckon with us." Nothing could be done in such an open land as this without "all the world knowing it." The Abunguma shook their spears bravely at us; the Babusessé occupied every prominent point on the right side of the river. It appeared once or twice as if our manhood was about to be tested on an important scale. There was the comfort, however, that, knowing the natives to be alert and active, we could not be surprised on a pasture slope where the grass around the camp was but three inches high.

Since we had entered Ibwiri we had fared luxuriously—for Africa. We had enjoyed meat and milk daily. We had lived on fowls, young and dried beans, sugar-cane, sweet potatoes, yams, colocassia, tomatoes, brinjalls, melons, plantains, and bananas. On the people the effect was wonderful. They were men in every respect superior both in body and spirit to the gaunt and craven wretches whom the Arab slaves of Ipoto scourged and speared without more than a mild protest. On the whites also the effect had been most beneficial. Though spare, we were no longer meagre and haggard; a little wine would have completed the cure.

A gentle grassy slope, on the next morning, took us, in the course of an hour, to the crown of one of those 1887.
Dec. 5.
Babusessé. long undulations so characteristic of this region. It furnished us with another all-round view peculiarly interesting to us. Our intended direction was southeast, as we were bearing for a high conical peak at the end of a range of grass-covered mountains, which afterwards became known to us as Mazamboni's Peak. We dipped down into delightful vales, watered by cool and clear brooks. Close to these were small clusters of native homesteads, with their fields of unripe sorghum, sweet potato, and sugar-cane patches, &c. But the homesteads were all abandoned, and their owners were observing us from the sky-line of every superior hill. Finally we passed an empty cattle zeriba, the sight of which was loudly cheered, and cries of "Ay, the master is right, and every word comes to pass. First will come the grass-land, then the cattle with brave men to defend them, then hills, then the Nyanza, and lastly the white man. The grass-land we have seen, here is the cattle yard, yonder are the mountains, the brave men and the Nyanza and the white man we shall yet see, please God."

We bore on our way to a valley through which another river rushed and roared. On our left was a rugged line of rocks that rose in huge and detached masses, on the top of which a dozen men might be seated comfortably. Connecting these huge rock masses was a lower line of rocks, more uniform, forming the bare spine of a ridge. At some places we passed so close to the base of this hill that we were within easy stone's throw of the summits. But though we were prepared for a demonstration, the natives remained singularly quiet. The path we followed halted at a suspension bridge across a third "Ituri," which had better be distinguished as East Ituri to prevent misunderstanding. This last river was thirty yards wide, deep and swift as a rapid. Spanned by a bridge of such fragile make that we could only pass one at a time in safety, it required one hundred and twenty seconds for a single person to cross the ninety-feet span, and the caravan was not on the other side entirely before 6 P.M. As the crossing was in 1887.
Dec. 6.
Ituri
River. a position of great disadvantage, riflemen had been on the look-out all day.

In the afternoon we saw a fine black cow and her calf issue out of a defile in the rocky ridge just described, and clamours of "Beef, beef—ay, beef, how are you? we have not seen you since we were young!" rose loud. The Abunguma had hidden their cattle among the rocky hills, and these specimens had probably been refractory.

SUSPENSION BRIDGE ACROSS THE E. ITURI.

Leaving the picturesque valley of East Ituri on the 8th, we ascended an easy slope to the top of a hill where we obtained a long view of the crooked and narrow valley of the East Ituri, and were able to observe that it came from an east-south-east direction. Shortly after, 1887.
Dec. 8.
Undussuma. something more like a plain opened before us, extending over a score of miles to the south, bordered on the north by the stony ridge and valley we had just left behind, while to the eastward rose Mazamboni's mountain range, whose northern end, conspicuous by the tall peak, was our present objective point.

At 9.30 A.M. we had approached several miles nearer this mountain range, and before descending into the valley of a streamlet flowing northward, we observed with wonder that the whole intervening space as far as the mountains was one mass of plantations, indicative of a powerful population. Here then, we thought, "will be the tug of war. The Abunguma have left their settlements in order to join this numerous tribe, and meet us with a fitting reception." No more populous settlements had been seen since we had departed from Bangala on the Congo. A suspicion that these were among the confederation of tribes who hemmed in the poor anxious governor of Equatoria also crept into our minds, as we looked upon this huge display of numbers and evidence of wealth and security.

With the view of not provoking the natives, and of preventing the incorrigible looters of the column from the commission of mischief, we took a south-east track to skirt the district. We were able to steer our course between the plantations, so that no cover was afforded to an enemy. At 11.30 we had reached the eastern extremity of the district, and then rested for the noon halt and refreshment, under the shadow of a tree whose branches rustled before a strong cool breeze from the Nyanza.

Resuming the march at 1 P.M. we entered the depths of banana plantations, marvelling at the great industry evinced, and the neatness of the cultivated plots. The conical homesteads were large and partitioned within, as we observed while passing through a few open doorways, by screens of cane grass. Every village was cleanly swept, as though they had been specially prepared for guests. Each banana stalk was loaded with bananas, the potato fields were extensive, the millet fields stretched 1887.
Dec. 8.
Undussuma. away on either side by hundreds of acres, and the many granaries that had lately been erected manifested expectations of a bountiful harvest.

We finally emerged from the corn-fields without being once annoyed. We thought the natives had been cowed by exaggerated reports of our power, or they had been disconcerted by our cautious manœuvre of leaving a fair open margin between the line of march and the groves; but much to our surprise we encountered no opposition, though large masses of the aborigines covered the eminences bordering our route.

The broad and well-trodden path towards the mountains which we were now rapidly approaching bisected an almost level plain, three miles wide, rich with pasture grass in flower. The Eastern Ituri was not far off on our left flank, and on the other side of it another populous settlement was in view.

At 3 P.M. we arrived at the base of the Mountain of the Peak. Many of its highest points were crowned with clusters of huts. The cotes of the natives were in the folds of the mountain fronting us. The people gathered in large groups on the nearest summits, and when we were near enough the shouts of defiance were uttered with loud and strident voices. We estimated the average height of the hills nearest to us at about 800 feet above the plain, and as the slopes were particularly steep we judged their distance to be between 800 and 1000 yards from us.

Much to our pleasure and relief the path, instead of ascending those steep slopes, skirted their base, and turned east, pursuing the direction we wished being now in, North Lat. 1° 25' 30". A valley unfolded to our view as we rounded the corner of the Peak Range, with a breadth of one to two miles wide, which was clothed with luxuriant sorghum ripening for the sickle. On our right, rising immediately above us, was the north side of Mazamboni's range; to our left, the ground, hidden by crops of grain, sloped gradually to a rapid branch of the East Ituri, and beyond it rose, an easy slope to a broad horse-shoe shaped grassy 1887.
Dec. 8.
Undussuma. ridge, studded with homesteads, green with millet and corn, and rich in banana groves. One sweeping view of our surroundings impressed us with the prosperity of the tribe.

OUR FIRST EXPERIENCES WITH MAZAMBONI'S PEOPLE. VIEW FROM NZERA KUM HILL.

On entering this rich crop-bearing valley a chorus of war-cries pealing menacingly above our heads caused us to look up. The groups had already become more numerous, until there were probably 300 warriors with shield, spear, and bow, shaking their flashing weapons, gesturing with shield and spear, crying wrathfully at us in some language. Waxing more ungovernable in action they made a demonstration to descend; they altered their intentions, returned to the summit, and kept pace with us—we along the base, they along the crest of the fore hills, snarling and yelling, shouting and threatening, which we took to be expressive of hate to us, and encouragement to those in the valley.

Issuing out of the first series of cornfields, we heard the war-cries of the valley natives, and comprehended that they were taking position in favourable localities—the hill natives warning and guiding them. It was now near 4 P.M., a time to pick out camp, to make ready for the night in the midst of a population overwhelming in its numbers. Fortunately, close at hand rose the steep hill of Nzera-Kum with a spur, whose level top rose a hundred feet above the general face of the valley. It stood like an islet in the valley, distant from the river 500 yards, and from the base of Mazamboni's range 200 yards. From the crest of Nzera-Kum we could command a view east and west of all the northern face of the high range, and away over the summit lines of the horse-shoe ridge, across the Ituri branch. Fifty rifles could hold a camp on such a position against a thousand. We hurried up towards it, the warriors on the range slopes converging downward as if divining our intentions; a mass of noisy belligerents hastening towards the line of march from the river banks. The scouts in the advance fired a few solitary shots to clear the front, and we succeeded in reaching the islet hill and scrambled up. The loads were thrown down, a few picked skirmishers 1887.
Dec. 8.
Undussuma. were ordered to either flank of the column to assist the rear-guard, others were directed to form a zeriba around the crown of the spur; a body of thirty men was sent to secure water from the river. In half an hour the column was safe on the hill, the zeriba was near completion, there was water for the thirsty, and we had a few minutes to draw breath and to observe from our commanding elevation what were our surroundings. The bird's-eye view was not a bit encouraging. About fifty villages were sprinkled through the valley; plantation after plantation, field after field, village after village met our vision in every direction. What lay on the mountains we did not know. The swarms of lusty-voiced natives on the slopes now numbered over 800. The air seemed filled with the uproar of the shouts.

The mountaineers appeared disposed to try conclusions at once. We were fatigued with the march of 13 miles; the hot sun and weight of burdens had weakened the physical powers of the men. Some of the best, however, were picked out and sent to meet the mountaineers, while we stood and watched to weigh the temper of our opponents. Four of the scouts were foremost. An equal number of the mountaineers, not a whit loth for the encounter, bounded gallantly to meet them. They intuitively felt that the courage of our four men was not of the highest order. They approached to within 100 yards of them, and prepared their bows against the rifles. Our men delivered their fire harmlessly, and then backed; the mountaineers advanced, with fingers on their bow-strings. Our four men fled, while a hundred voices from our camp, looking down upon the scene, execrated them. This was a bad beginning for our side; the natives accepted it as a favourable omen to them, and yelled triumphantly. To check this glow, our riflemen sought cover, and seriously annoyed the natives. Some at the extremity of the hill of Nzera-Kum did execution among the mountaineers on the slope of the range opposite, at 400 yards distance; others crept down into the valley towards the river, and obtained a 1887.
Dec. 8.
Undussuma. triumph for us; others, again, working round the base of Nzera-Kum, effected a diversion in our favour. Saat Tato, our hunter, carried away a cow from her owners, and we thus obtained a taste of beef after eleven months' abstinence. As night fell, natives and strangers sought their respective quarters, both anticipating a busy day on the morrow.

Before turning in for the night, I resumed my reading of the Bible as usual. I had already read the book through from beginning to end once, and was now at Deuteronomy for the second reading, and I came unto the verse wherein Moses exhorts Joshua in those fine lines, "Be strong and of a good courage; fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the Lord thy God, He it is that doth go with thee; He will not fail thee, nor forsake thee."

I continued my reading, and at the end of the chapter closed the book, and from Moses my mind travelled at once to Mazamboni. Was it great fatigue, incipient ague, or an admonitory symptom of ailment, or a shade of spiteful feeling against our cowardly four, and a vague sense of distrust that at some critical time my loons would fly? We certainly were in the presence of people very different from the forest natives. In open our men had not been tested as they were to-day, and what my officers and self had seen of them was not encouraging. At any rate, my mind was occupied with a keener sense of the danger incurred by us in adventuring with such a small force of cowardly porters to confront the tribes of the grass land than I remember it on any previous occasion. It seemed to me now that I had a more thorough grasp of what might be expected. Whether it followed a larger visual view of land and population, or that I was impressed by the volume of human voices, whose uproar yet seemed to sound in my ears, I know not. But a voice appeared to say, "Be strong and of a good courage: fear not, nor be afraid of them." I could almost have sworn I heard the voice. I began to argue with it. Why do you adjure me to abandon the Mission? I cannot run if I would. To 1887.
Dec. 8.
Undussuma. retreat would be far more fatal than advance; therefore your encouragement is unnecessary. It replied, nevertheless, "Be strong and of a good courage. Advance, and be confident, for I will give this people and this land unto thee. I will not fail thee nor forsake thee; fear not, nor be dismayed."

Still—all this in strict confidence—before I slept I may add that though I certainly never felt fitter for a fight, it struck me, that both sides were remarkably foolish, and about to engage in what I conceived to be an unnecessary contest. We did not know even the name of the land or of the people, and they were equally ignorant of our name and of our purpose and motives. I sketched out my plans for the morrow, adjured the sentries to keep strict watch, and in sleep became soon oblivious of this Mazamboni—lord of the mountains and plains.

December 9th was a halt. In the morning we completed our thorn-bush fence, distributed cartridges, and examined rifles. By 9 o'clock the chill of early day retired before the warmth of a hot sun, and shortly after the natives mustered in imposing numbers. War-horns, with the weird notes heard in Usoga and Uganda in 1875, sounded the gathering, and over twenty drums boomed from each mountain top. There were shouts and cries flying in currents from mountain to valley, and back again, for we were quite surrounded. About 11 a.m. some few natives descended close enough for one Fetteh, a man of Unyoro, to distinguish what was said, and he exchanged a hot abuse with them, until there was quite a wordy war. Hearing that one of our people understood the language, I directed the wrathful tongues in the interests of peace, and a more amicable language resulted.

"We on our side," was said, "only fight in defence. You assail us while quietly passing through the land. Would it not be better to talk to each other, and try to understand one another first, and then, if we cannot agree, fight."

"True, those are wise words," a man replied. "Tell 1887.
Dec. 9.
Undussuma. us who you are. Where you are from, and where you are going."

"We are of Zanzibar, from the sea, and our chief is a white man. We are bound for the Nyanza of Unyoro."

"If you have a white man with you, let us see him, and we shall believe you."

Lieutenant Stairs promptly stepped out of the zeriba and was introduced by Fetteh.

"Now you tell us who you are," said Fetteh. "What land is this? Who is your chief? And how far is the Nyanza?"

"This land is Undussuma, the chief is Mazamboni. We are Wazamboni. The Ruweru (Nyanza) is reached in two days. It will take you five days. It lies east. There is only one road, and you cannot miss it."

This began the exchange of friendly intercourse. Strangerhood was broken. We then learned that there were two chiefs in Undussuma, one of whom would not be averse to peace, and exchange of friendly gifts, if it were agreeable to us. We gladly assented, and several hours were passed without a hostile cry being heard, or a shot fired, except at the river, the natives on whose shores were obstinate, and declined listening to anything but war proposals.

In the afternoon a message came from Mazamboni saying he would like to see the pattern and quality of our monies. We sent two yards of scarlet uniform cloth, and a dozen brass rods, and a promise was given that early next morning the chief himself would appear and go through the ceremony of brotherhood with me.

The next day we were refreshed after an undisturbed night, and fondly indulged in anticipations that in a few hours, perhaps, our camp would be filled with friendly natives. We had been requested not to depart until a return gift should arrive from Mazamboni. We accordingly had resolved on another day's halt. The morning was still raw and cold, for we were 4,235 feet above the sea. A mist covered the tall mountain tops, and a slight drizzle had set in, which excused our friends from a too early appearance; but at the third hour the mist 1887.
Dec. 10.
Undussuma. cleared away, and the outline of the entire range was clear against a pale blue sky. Lieutenant Stairs, Mr. Jephson, and myself, were out at the extreme west end of the spur enjoying the splendid view, admiring the scenery, and wondering when such a beautiful land would become the homesteads of civilized settlers. Stairs thought that it resembled New Zealand, and said that he would not mind possessing a ranche here. He actually went so far as to locate it, and pointed out the most desirable spot. "On that little hill I would build my house"—"Shebang" he called it. I wonder if that is a New Zealand term for a villa—"There I would herd my cattle; my sheep could browse on the mountain slope behind, and——"

But meantime the natives had appeared on the crests of the mountain in lengthy columns, converging towards a common centre—a butt end of a truncated hill—a thousand yards in an air line from where we stood, and a voice like that of a mob orator, clear and harmonious, broke on our ear. It proceeded from a man who, with a few companions, had descended to about 300 feet above the valley. He was ten minutes speaking, and Fetteh had been brought to listen and translate. Fetteh said that he commanded peace in the name of the king; but strange to say, no sooner had the man concluded his speech than loud, responsive yells rose from the valley in a hideous and savage clamour, and then from every mountain top, and from the slopes there was a re-echo of the savage outburst.

We surmised that such forceful yelling could not signal a peace, but rather war; and in order to make sure, sent Fetteh down into the valley below the speaker to ask him. The replies from the natives left us no room to doubt. The two sounds—Kanwana, "peace," and Kurwana, "war," were so similar that they had occasioned Fetteh's error.

"We do not want your friendship," they cried. "We are coming down to you shortly to drive you out of your camp with our herdsmen's staffs." And a treacherous fellow, who had crawled under cover of low 1887.
Dec. 10.
Undussuma. bush, came near causing us a severe loss—our interpreter especially having an exceedingly narrow escape. Fetteh picked up the arrows and brought them to us, and delivered his news.

There was then no alternative but to inflict an exemplary lesson upon them; and we prepared to carry it out without losing a moment of time, and with the utmost vigour, unless checked by proffers of amity.

The companies were mustered, and fifty rifles were led out by Lieutenant Stairs towards those obstinate and fierce fellows on the other side of the Ituri branch. A party of thirty rifles were sent under Mr. Jephson to skirmish up the slopes to the left; and twenty picked men were sent with Uledi to make a demonstration to the right. Rashid was ordered with ten men to the top of Nzera-Kum to guard against surprise from that quarter. Jephson and Uledi would be marching to their positions unobserved by the mountaineers, because the crowns of the forehills would obstruct the view, and would approach to them within 200 yards without being seen, while Lieutenant Stairs' company, being further out in the valley, would absorb their attention.

In a few minutes Stairs' company was hotly engaged. The natives received our men with cool determination for a few minutes, and shot their arrows in literal showers; but the Lieutenant, perceiving that their coolness rose from the knowledge that there was a considerable stream intervening between them and his company, cheered his men to charge across the river. His men obeyed him, and as they ascended the opposite bank opened a withering fire which in a few seconds broke up the nest of refractory and turbulent fellows who had cried out so loudly for war. The village was taken with a rush and the banana plantations scoured. The natives broke out into the open on a run, and fled far northward. Lieutenant Stairs then collected his men, set fire to the village, and proceeded to the assault of other settlements, rattling volleys from the company announcing the resistance they met.

Meanwhile, Uledi's party of chosen men had discovered 1887.
Dec. 10.
Undussuma. a path leading up the mountain along a spur, and after ascending 500 feet, led his men up into view on the right flank of the mob observing and cheering their countrymen in the valley. The Winchesters were worked most handsomely. At the same time Mr. Jephson's party came out of the left ravine, and together they had such a disastrous effect on the nerves of the natives that they fled furiously up the slopes, Uledi and his men chasing them.

Mr. Jephson, after seeing them in full flight, faced eastward, and pushed on for two miles, clearing every inhabitant out. By 1 P.M. all our men were in camp, with only one man slightly wounded. Every man had behaved wonderfully well; even the four cowards, who had been marked men, had distinguished themselves.

At 2 p.m., the natives in the valley having returned, each party was despatched once again. Stairs led his men across the Ituri branch, and followed the running fugitives far northward, then veered sharply round to join Jephson, who had continued his way eastward. Uledi's scouts were sent up to the very summit of the mountain range; but on observing the immense number of homesteads that dotted it, he prudently halted.

Until the afternoon the contest continued; the natives were constantly on the run, charging or retreating. By evening not one was in sight, and the silence around our camp was significant of the day's doings. The inhabitants were on the mountains or far removed eastward and northward. In the valley around us there was not a hut left standing to be a cover during the night. The lesson, we felt, was not completed. We should have to return by that route. In the natural course of things, if we met many tribes of the quality of this, we should lose many men, and if we left them in the least doubt of our ability to protect ourselves, we should have to repeat our day's work. It was, therefore, far more merciful to finish the affair thoroughly before leaving a tribe in unwhipped insolence in our rear. 1887.
Dec. 10.
Undussuma. The natives must have entertained an idea that we could not fight outside our bush fence, which accounts for their tall talk of driving us out with sticks, and that they were safe on the mountains. We were compelled to root out the idea that they could harm us in any way.

A cow neglected by her owner was burnt in one of the villages close by, and furnished us with a second limited ration of roast beef.

On the 11th it rained again during the early morning, which kept us indoors until 10 A.M. Some natives having then come out to demonstrate their hostility on the mountains, Stairs, Jephson and Uledi led their men up the mountain slopes in three separate small columns to the attack, and made a successful tour among their stronghold. A small flock of goats was captured, and distributed to the men, and our experiences of this day satisfied the natives that they had nothing to gain by fighting.

SHIELD OF THE EDGE OF THE PLAINS.

At one time it appeared as day would end with reconciliation, for a native stood on a high hill above our position after all had reached camp, and announced that he had been sent by Mazamboni to say that he received our gifts, but that he had been prevented from visiting us according to promise by the clamour of his young men, who insisted on fighting. But now, as many of them had been killed, he was ready to pay tribute, and be a true friend in future.

We replied that we were agreeable to peace and friendship with them, but as they had mocked us, kept our peace presents, and then scornfully called us women, they must purchase peace with cattle or goats, and if they held up grass in their hands they could approach without fear.

It should be mentioned that when the warriors descended the mountain slopes for the fight, every little 1887.
Dec. 11.
Undussuma. squad of men was accompanied by a large hound, of somewhat slender build, but courageous, and prompt to attack.

The arms of the Wazamboni consisted of long bows five and a half feet long, and arrows twenty-eight inches long, besides a long sharp spear. Their shields were long and narrow generally, but there were many of the true Uganda type. The arrows were cruelly barbed, and the spear was similar to that of Karagwé, Uhha, Urundi, and Ihangiro.

VIEW OF THE SOUTH END OF ALBERT NYANZA. (See page 306.)