 Chapter 10 of Black Ivory by R. M. Valentine Chapter 10 describes African domesticity and many other things relative there, too, besides showing that alarms and flights, surprises and feasts, are not confined to particular places. When our negro chief, whose name, by the way, was Canvira, left the banks of the river, followed by his men bearing the hippopotamus flesh, he set off at a swinging pace, like to a man who has a considerable walk before him. The country through which they passed was not only well wooded, but well watered by numerous rivulets. Their path for some distance tended upwards towards the hills, now crossing over mounds, anon skirting the base of precipitous rocks, and elsewhere dipping down into hollows. But although thus serpentine in its course its upward tendency never varied until it led them to the highest parts of a ridge from which a magnificent prospect was had of hill and dale, lake, rivulet and river, extending so far that the distant scenery at the horizon appeared of a thin pearly gray color, and of the same consistency as the clouds with which it mingled. Passing over this ridge and descending into a wide valley which was fertilized and beautified by a moderately sized rivulet, Canvira led his followers towards a hamlet which lay close to the stream, nestled in woody hollow, and like all other Manganja villages was surrounded by an impenetrable hedge of poisonous euphorbia, a tree which casts a deep shade and renders it difficult for bowmen to aim at the people inside. In the immediate vicinity of the village the land was laid out in little gardens and fields, and in these the people, men, women and children, were busily engaged in hoeing the ground, weeding, planting, or gathering the fruits of their labor. These same fruits were plentiful, and the people sang with joy as they worked. There were large crops of maize, millet-beams, and ground nuts. Also patches of yams, rice, pumpkins, cucumbers, cassava, sweet potatoes, tobacco, cotton, and hemp, which last is also called vang, and is smoked by the natives as a species of tobacco. It was a pleasant sight for Canvira and his men to look upon as they rested for a few minutes on the brow of a knoll near a thicket of bramble bushes and gazed down upon their home. Doubtless they thought so, for their eyes glistened, so also did their teeth when they smilingly commented on the scene before them. They did not indeed become enthusiastic about scenery, nor did they refer to the picturesque grouping of huts and trees, or make any illusion whatever to light and shade. No, their thoughts were centered on far higher objects than these. They talked of wives and children, and hippopotamus flesh, and their countenances glowed, although they were not white, and their strong hearts beat hard against their ribs, although they were not clothed, and their souls, for which we repudiate Yusus' opinion that they had none, their souls appeared to take quiet but powerful interest in their belongings. It was pleasant also for Canvira and his men to listen to the sounds that floated up from the valley, sweeter bar than the sweetest strains of Mozart or Mendelssohn, the singing of the workers in the fields and gardens, mellowed by distance into a soft humming-tone, and the hearty laughter that burst occasionally for men seated at work on bows, arrows, fishing nets, and such like gear, on a flat green spot under the shade of a huge banyan tree, which, besides being the village workshop, was the village recreation hall, where strangers were entertained on arriving. Also, the village green where the people assembled to dance and sing and smoke bang to which, last, they were much addicted, and to drink beer made by themselves, of which they were remarkably fond, and by means of which they sometimes got drunk. In all which matters, the intelligent reader will not fail to observe that they bore a market resemblance to many of the civilized European nations, except, perhaps, in their greater freedom of action, lightness of costume, and color of skin. The merry voices of children, too, were heard, and their active little black bodies were seen while they engaged in the play of savages, though not necessarily in savage play. Some romped, ran after each other, caught each other, tickled each other, occasionally whacked each other, just as our own little ones do. Others played at games of which the skipping rope was a decided favorite among the girls, but the play of most of the older children consisted in imitating the serious work of their parents. The girls built little huts, hode little gardens, made small pots of clay, pounded imaginary corn in miniature mortars, cooked it over ideal fires, and crammed it down the throats of imitation babies, while the boys performed deeds of chivalric daring with reed spears, small shields, and tiny bows and arrows, or amused themselves in making cattle pens, or in sculpturing cows and crocodiles. Human nature, in short, was powerfully developed, without anything particular to suggest the idea of a savage life, or to justify the opinion of Arabs and half-caste Portuguese that black men are all cattle. The scene wanted only the spire of a village church in the tinkle of a Sabbath bell to make it perfect. But there was a tinkle among the other sounds, not unlike a bell which would have sounded marvelously familiar to English years had they been listening. This was the ringing of the anvil of the village blacksmith. Yes, savage though they were, these natives had a blacksmith who wrought in iron almost as deftly and to the full as vigorously as any British son of Vulcan. The Manganja people are an industrious race. Besides cultivating the soil extensively, they dig iron ore out of the hills, and each village has its smelting house, its charcoal burners, its forge with a pair of goat skin bellows, and its blacksmith. We might appropriately say it's very blacksmith. Whether the latter would have necessity, and as a matter of course, sing bass in church if the land were civilized enough to possess a church, remains to be seen. At the time we write of, he merely hummed to the sound of the hammer and forged hose, axes, spears, needles, arrowheads, bracelets, armlets, necklets, and anklets with surprising dexterity. Pity that he could not forge a chain which would forever restrain the murderous hands of the Arabs and half cast Portuguese, who for ages have blighted his land with their pestilential presence. After contemplating the picture for a time, Canvira descended the winding path that led to the village. He had not proceeded far when one of the smallest of the children, a creature so rotund that his body and limbs were a series of circles and ovals, and so black that it seemed an absurdity even to think of casting a shadow on him, espied the advancing party uttered a shrill cry of delight and ran towards them. His example was followed by a dozen others, who, being larger, outran him, and performing a war dance round the men possessed themselves by amicable theft of pieces of raw meat with which they hastened back to the village. The original discoverer of the party, however, had other ends in view. He toddled straight up to Canvira with the outstretched arms of a child who knows he will be welcome. Canvira was not demonstrative, but he was hardy. Taking the little ball of black butter by the arms, he whirled him over his head and placed him on his broad shoulders with a fat leg on each side of his neck and left him there to look after himself. This the youngster did by locking his feet together under the man's chin and fastening his fat fingers in his woolly hair, in which position he bore some resemblance to an enormous shion. Thus was he born crowing to the chief's hut from the door of which a very stout elderly woman came out to receive them. There was no one else in the hut to welcome them, but Yochama, as the chief styled her, was sufficient. She was what some people call good company. She bustled about making preparations for a feast with a degree of activity that was quite surprising in one so fat, so very fat. Asking questions the wild with much volubility, make-ofing marks to the child, criticizing the hippopotamus meat, or commenting on things in general. Meanwhile, Canvira seated himself in a corner and prepared to refresh himself with a pipe of bang in the most natural and civilized fashion imaginable. And young Oboe, or so Yochama called him, entered upon a series of gymnastic exercises with his father. For such Canvira was, which partook of the playfulness of the kitten mingled with the eccentricity and mischief of the monkey. It would have done you good, reader, if you possess a spark of sympathy, who have watched these two as they played together. The way in which Oboe assaulted his father, on whose visage mild benignity wasn't thrown, wouldn't have surprised you. Canvira was a remarkably brave, quiet, and reserved man, but that was a matter of no moment to Oboe, who threatened him in front, skirmished in his rear, charged him on the right flank with a reed spear, shelled him on the left with sweet potatoes, and otherwise harassed him with amazing perseverance and ingenuity. To this the enemy paid no further retention than lay in thrusting out an elbow and raising a knee, to check an unusually fierce attack, or in giving Oboe a pat on the back when he came within reach, or sending him a puff of smoke in his face, as if to taunt and encourage him to attempt further deeds of daring. While this was going on in the chief's hut, active culinary preparations were progressing all over the village. The women pursued their hose and grinding mortars, and the looms on which they had been weaving cottoncloth, the men laid down various implements of industry, and long ere the sun began to descend in the west, the entire tribe was feasting with all the gusto, and twenty times the appetite of aldermen. During the progress of the feast, a remarkably small, wiry old negro entertained the chief in his party with a song, accompanying himself the while on a violin, not a European fiddle by any means, but a native production, with something like a small keg covered with goat's skin for a body, a longish handle, and one string which was played with the bow by the spider. Never having heard his name, we get him one in accordance with his aspect. Talk of European fiddlers, no Paganini or any other nini that ever astonished the goss and vandals of the north, could hold a candle. We had almost said a fiddle. To the sable descendant of Ham, who squatted on his hams in the midst of an admiring circle, drew forth sounds from his solitary string that were more than exquisite. They were excruciating. The song appeared to be improvised for it referred to objects around, as well as to things past, present, and to come, among others to the fact that slave parties attacked villages and carried off the inhabitants. At such points, the minstrel's voice became low and thrilling, while his audience, who suddenly earnest, opened their eyes, frowned and showed their teeth. But as soon as the subject was changed, the feeling seemed to die away. It was only old memories that had been awakened, for no slavers had passed through their country for some time past, though rumors of an attack on a not very distant tribe had recently reached, and greatly alarmed them. Thus they passed the afternoon, and when the cool of the evening drew on, a dance was proposed, seconded, and carried unanimously. They were about to begin when a man was seen running down the path leading to the village at a speed which proved him to be the bearer of tidings. In a few minutes he burst into the midst of them with glaring eyeballs and laboring chest, for he had run fast, though not far, and told his news in rapid, short sentences, to the effect that a band of slavers, led by Portuguese, were on their way to the valley, within a mile or so of it, even while he spoke, that he thought the leader was Marisano, and that they were armed with the loud-sounding guns. The consternation consequent on this news was universal, and there was good ground for it, because Marisano was a well-known monster of cruelty, and his guns had rendered him invincible hitherto wherever he went, the native spear and bow being utterly useless in the hands of men who, however courageous, were shot down before they could come within arrow range of their enemies. It is the custom of the slave dwellers on going into the interior for the purpose of procuring slaves to offer to buy them from such tribes as are disposed to sell. This most of the tribes are willing to do. Fathers do not indeed sell their own children or husbands their wives from preference, but chiefs and headmen are by no means loathe to get rid of their criminals in this way, their bad stock as it were of Black Ivory. They also sell orphans and other defenseless ones of their tribes, the usual rate of charge being about two or three yards of calico for a man, woman, or child. But the Arab slave dealer sometimes finds it difficult to procure enough of cattle in this way to make up a band sufficiently large to start with for the coast, because he is certain to lose poor out of every five at the lowest estimate on his journey down. The drove therefore must be large. In order to provide it, he sends out parties to buy where they can and to steal when they have the chance. Meanwhile, he takes up his quarters near some tribe and sets about deliberately to produce war. He rubs up old sores, foments, existing quarrels, lends guns and ammunition, suggests causes of dispute, and finally gets two tribes to fight. Of course, many are slaughtered, fearful barbarities, and excesses are committed, fields are laid waste, and villages are burnt, but this is a matter of no consequence to our Arab. Prisoners are sure to be taken, and he buys the prisoners. For the rest, there are plenty of natives in Africa. When all else fails, not being very particular, he sends off a party under some thoroughgoing scoundrel, well armed, and with instructions to attack and capture wherever they go. No wonder then that the rumored approach of Marizano and his men caused the utmost alarm in Canvira's village, and that the women and children were ordered to fly to the bush without delay. This they required no second bidding to do, but oh it was a sad sight to see them do it. The younger women ran actively, carrying the infants and leading the smaller children by the hands, and soon disappeared, but it was otherwise with the old people. These men and women, vowed with age and tottering as much from terror and decrepitude, hobbled along, handing as they went, and stumbling over every trifling obstruction in their path, being sometimes obliged to stop and rest, though death might be the consequence. And among these there were a few stray little creatures barely able to tattle, who had probably been forgotten or forsaken by their mothers in the panic, yet were of some sufficient age to be aware, in their own feeble way, that danger of some sort was behind them, and that safety lay before. By degrees all, young and old, strong and feeble, gained the shelter of the bush, and Canvira was left with a handful of resolute warriors to check the invaders and defend his home. Well was it at that time for Canvira and his men that the approaching band was not Marizano and his robbers? When the head of the supposed enemy's column appeared on the brow of the adjacent hill, the Manganja chief fitted an arrow to his bow, and retiring behind a hut, as also did his followers, resolved that Marizano should forfeit his life even though his own should be the penalty. Very bitter were his thoughts, for his tribe had suffered from that villain at a former period, and he longed to rid the land of him. As he thought thus, he looked at his followers with an expression of doubt, for he knew too well that the Manganja were not a warlike tribe, and feared that the few who remained with him might forsake him in the hour of need. Indeed, much of his own well-known courage was to be attributed to the fact that his mother had belonged to a family more or less nearly connected with Yajawa, who are very warlike, too much so in truth, for it is they who to a large extent are made use of by the slave dealers to carry on war with the neighboring tribes. Canvira's men, however, looked resolute, though very grave. While he was thus meditating vengeance, he observed that one of the approaching band advanced alone without arms, and making signs of peace. This surprised him a little, but dreading treachery he kept under the shelter of a hut until a stranger was close to the village. Then observing that the party on the hill had laid down their arms and seated themselves on the grass, he advanced still, however, retaining his weapons. The stranger was a little man and appeared timid, but seeing that the chief evidently meant no mischief, and knowing that the guns of his friends had him within range, he drew near. Where come you from? demanded Canvira. To this Antonio, for it was he, replied that his party came from the coast, that they wanted to pass through the land to see it and to find out what it produced and what its people had to sell, that it was led by two Englishmen who belonged to a nation that detested slavery, the same nation that sent out Dr. Livingston, who as everybody knew had passed through that land some years before. They were also, he said, countrymen of the men of God who had come out to teach the Manganja the truth, who had helped them in their troubles, delivered them from the slave traders, and some of whom had died in their land. He added that there were Manganja men and women in their company. The men of God to whom Antonio referred, and to whom he had been expressly told by Harold C. Drift to refer, were those devoted missionaries mentioned in a previous chapter, who, under the leadership of the amiable and true-hearted Bishop Mackenzie, established the mission among these very Manganja hills in the year 1861. By a rare combination of Christian love and manly courage under very peculiar circumstances, they acquired extraordinary power and influence over the natives in the space of a few months and laid the foundation of what might have been, perhaps may yet be, true Christianity in Central Africa. But the country was unhappily involved at the time in one of the wars created by the Portuguese and Arab slave traders. The region was almost depopulated by man-stealers and by the famine that resulted from the culture of the land having been neglected during the panning. The good Bishop and several others devoted ban sank under the combined effects of climate and anxiety and died there, while the enfeeble remnant were compelled sourfully to quit the field to the deep regret of the surviving Manganja. Note, the story of the university's mission to Central Africa by the Reverend Henry Rowley, we can heartily recommend this to the young, I, and to the old, as being next to the adventures of Williams in the South Seas, one of the most interesting records of missionary enterprise that we ever read. End of note. When, therefore, Antonio mentioned Bishop Mackenzie and Dr. Livingston, a gleam of intelligent interest lit up Canberra's swarthy countenance, and he was about to speak but suddenly checked himself, and a stern frown chased the gleam away. The Manganja, he said, after a few moments' silence, during which poor Antonio eyed him with some distrust, know well that these men of God were not of the same country as the Arab and the Portuguese, that they hated slavery and loved the Manganja, and that the graves of some of them are with us now. But we know also that some white men are great liars. How am I to make sure that your leaders are English? Why did you not bring down the Manganja men and women you say are with you? The women were foot sore and fell behind with their men, answered Antonio, and we thought at desk not to wait for them. Go, rejoined Canberra waving his hand, if you be true men, let the Englishmen come to me, and also the Manganja, without guns, then I will believe you. Go! The parametry manner in which this was said left no room for reply. Antonio, therefore, returned to his friends and the chief to his cover. On consultation and consideration it was agreed that Canberra's advice should be acted on. For, said Disco, removing the pipe with which he had been solacing himself during Antonio's absence, we can plant our fellas on the knoll here with a blunderbuss each, and arrange a signal so that, if there should be anything like foul play, we'd have nothing to do but hold aloft a kurcher or something of that sort, and they pour a broadside into him, a four they could wink. Do you see? Not quite clearly, replied Harold, smiling, because some of our fellows can't take a name at all, much less a good one, so they'd be as likely to shoot us as them. Disco pondered this a little and shook his head, then shook the ashes out of his pipe, and said that, on the whole, he was willing to risk it, that they could not expect to travel through Africa without risk and sum up. As Chimbolo with his wife and the rest of the party came up at that moment, the case was put before him. He had once advised compliance with Canberra's request, saying that the presence of himself and his friends would be quite sufficient to put the chief's mind at rest. In a few minutes the plan was carried out, and Canberra satisfied of the good faith of his visitors. Nevertheless he did not at once throw open his arms to them. He stood upon his dignity, asked them a good many questions, and answered a good many more, addressing himself always to Antonio as the spokesman, it being a point of etiquette not to address the principle of the party. Then presence words changed in the management of which a considerable time was spent. One of the warriors having in the meantime been dispatched to recall the fugitives, these began to pour out of the woods the frail old people and forsaken toddlers being the last return as they had been the last to fly. After this fires were kindled, fowls were chased, caught, slain, plucked, roasted, and boiled, hippopotamus flesh was produced, the strangers were invited to make themselves at home, which they very soon did. Beer and bang were introduced, the celebrated fiddler was reinstated, the dance which had been so long delayed was at last fairly begun, and as if to make the picture perfect and felicity complete the moon came out from behind a dark cloud and clothed the valley with a flood of silver light. End of Chapter 10, Recording by Tom Weiss, Tom's Audiobooks.com Chapter 11 of Black Ivory by R. M. Valentine This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 11 reveals Disco's opinions about savages and the savages opinions of Disco and other weighty matters. As two or three of Harold's people were not very well just at that time, he resolved to remain at Kambira's village for a few days to give them rest and afterwards to push on to the country of his friend Chimbolo. This arrangement he came to the more readily that he was short of provisions, and Kambira told him that a particular part of the country near the shores of a lake, not far distant, abound it with game of all sorts. To Disco Lillehammer he explained his plans next day, while that worthy, seated under the shade of a banyan tree, was busily engaged with what he styled his morning duties, namely the filling and smoking of his cutie pipe. You see, Disco, he said, it won't do to knock up the men with continuous travel, therefore I shall give them a spell of rest here. Kambira tells me that there is plenty of game large and small to be had not far off, so that we shall be able to replenish our stock of meat and, for chance, give the niggers a feast such as they had not been accustomed to of late, for it is not too much to expect that our rifles will do more execution at all events among lions and elephants than native spears. Besides, I wish to see something of the people who, being what we may call pure out and out savages, savages interrupted Disco, removing his pipe and pointing with the stem of it to the village on an eminence at the outskirts of which they were seated. Do ye call them folk savages? Harold looked at the scene before him and paused for a few moments, and, while he might, for not fifty yards off, the blacksmith was plying his work energetically, while a lad sat literally between a pair of native bellows, one of which he blew with his left hand, the other with his right, and, beyond these, groups of men and women wrought at their primitive looms or tilled their vegetable gardens and patches of land. Savages, repeated Disco, still pointing to the village with the stem of his pipe and gazing earnestly at his companion. It is probable that Disco might have said more, but he was an accurate judge of the precise moment when a pipe is about to go out and delay will prove fatal. He therefore applied himself diligently to suck and cherish the dying spark. Having revived its powers to such an extent that Cloud enveloped his visage and his nose being red loomed luredly through them, he removed the pipe and again said, Humph, they ain't a bit more savages, sir, than you and me is. Perhaps not, replied Harold, to say truth it would be difficult to point out any peculiarity that justifies the name, except the fact that they wear very little clothing and neither go to school nor church. They wears no clothing, rejoined Disco, because they don't need for to do so, and they don't go to church or school because they ain't got none to go to, that same being not the fault of the niggers but of them as knows better. There's truth in what you say, Disco, returned Harold with a smile, but, come, you must admit that there is something savage in the custom they have of wearing these hideous lip rings. The custom to which he referred is one which prevails among several of the tribes of Africa and is indeed so utterly hideous and outrageous that we should be justified in refusing to believe it, were we not assured of the fact by Dr. Livingston and other missionaries and travelers of unquestionable integrity. The ring is worn in the upper lip, not hanging from it, but fitted into a hole in it in such a manner as to thrust the lip straight and far out from the face. As the ring is about the size of an ordinary napkin ring, it may be easily believed that time is required for the formation of the deformity. At an early age the middle of the upper lip of a girl is pierced close to the nose and a small pin introduced to prevent the hole closing up. After it is healed the pin is taken out and a larger one forced into its place and so for weeks, months and years the process of increasing the size of the lip goes on until a ring of about two inches in diameter can be introduced. Nearly all the women in these parts use this ring or as it is called Pulele. Some make them a bamboo, others a vivary or tin. When aware of the Pulele's smiles the action of the cheek muscles draws the lip tight, which has the effect of raising the ring towards the eyebrows so that the nose is seen in the middle of it and the teeth are exposed, a revelation which shows that the latter have been chipped to sharp points so as to resemble the teeth of a cat or crocodile. No doubt said disco in reply to Harold's remark, the lip rings are on common ugly, but the principle of the thing sir that's where it is. The principle ain't no worse than ear rings. The savages as we call them bores holes in their lips and sticks rings into them. The civilized folk as we call ourselves bores holes in their ears and sticks rings into them. Where's the difference? That's what I want to know. There's not much difference in principle said Harold laughing, but there is a great difference in appearance. Earrings hang gracefully, lip rings stick out horribly. Hmm, it appears to me that that's a matter of taste now. Howsoever I do admit that lip ring is worse than earrings, moreover it must make kissing somewhat difficult, not to say unpleasant. But as I said before, so I says again, it's all in the principle where it lies. Why, look here sir, savages as we call them wear brass rings round their necks. Our women wear golden brass changed. The savages wear anklets, we wear bracelets. They have no endo rings on their toes, we have them on our fingers. Some savages shave their heads, some of us shaves our faces. Their women are rather given to clothing, which is too short and too narrow. Ours come out in tauggery far too wide, and so long sometimes that a feller dare come within a fathom, a stern, without running the risk of trampinon and carrying away some of the canvas. The savage women frizzes out their hair into most fantastical shapes, till the very monkeys has to hold their sides, sitting in the trees, larphing at them, and what do we do in regard to that? Why, some of our women puts on a mixture o' hairy pads and combs and pins and ribbons and flowers in a bundle about twice the size of their heads, all jumbled together in such a way as to defy description. And if the monkeys was to see them, they'd go off into such fits that they'd bust all together and the race would become extinct in Africa. No, sir. It's my opinion that there ain't no such thing as savages, or if you choose to put it to other way, we're all savages together. Disco uttered the last part of his speech with intense energy, winding it up with the usual slap on the thigh, delivered with unusual fervor, and then becoming aware that the vital spark of the cutty had all but fled, he applied himself to its resuscitation, in which occupation he found relief to his feelings, and himself formed a brilliant illustration of his remarks on savage customs. Harold admitted that there was much truth in what he said, but rather inclined to the opinion that of the two sets of savages the uncivilized were, if anything, the wildest. Disco, however, contrary to his usual habits, had nailed his colors to the mast on that point and could not haul them down. Meanwhile Harold's opinion was to some extent justified by the appearance of a young man who, issuing from the jungle close at hand, advanced towards them. Most of the men at the village displayed a good deal of pride, if not taste in the arrangement of their hair. Some wore it long and twisted into a coil which hung down their backs. Others trained and stiffened it in such a way that it took the form of buffalo horns, while some allowed it to hang over the shoulders in large masses, and many shaved it either entirely or partially indefinite patterns. But the young dandy who now approached outdid all the others, for he had twisted his hair into innumerable little tails, which, being stiffened by fillets of the inner bark of a tree, stuck straight out and radiated from the head in all directions. His costume, otherwise, was simple enough, consisting merely of a small kilt of white calico. He was accompanied by Antonio. We've become from Kimbira, said the interpreter, to tell you for come to feast. All right, said Disco Ryzen, always ready for whittles if you only give us an hour or two between times. I say Tony. He had, by that time, reduced the interpreter's name to this extent, asked this fellow what he means by making such a guy of his self. Him say it looked well, said Antonio, with a broad grin. Looks well, eh? And ask him why the women wear that abominable poolele. When this question was put to the black dandy, he looked at Disco evidently in surprise at his stupidity. Because it is the fashion, he said. They wear it for beauty, to be sure. Men have beards and whiskers, women have none, and what kind of creature would woman be without whiskers and without a poolele? She would have a mouth like a man, and no beard. The bare idea of such a state of things tickled the dandy so much that he went into roars of laughter in so much that all the radiating tails of his head quivered again. The effect of laughter and tails together was irresistible. Harold, Disco, and Antonio laughed in sympathy till the tears ran down their cheeks, and then returned to the village where Canberra and his chief men awaited them. While enjoying the feast prepared for them, Harold communicated his intentions and desires to the chief, who was delighted at the prospect of having such powerful allies on a hunting expedition. The playful oboe, meanwhile, was clamoring over his father's person like a black monkey. He appeared to be particularly fond of his father, and as love begets love, it is not surprising that Canberra was excessively fond of Oboe. But Oboe, becoming obstreperous, received an amicable punch from his father, which sent him headlong into a basket of boiled hippopotamus. He gave a wild howl of alarm as Disco snatched him out of the dish, dripping with fat, and set him on his knee. There there, don't blubber, said the seaman, tenderly wiping off the fat while the natives, including Canberra, exploded with laughter. You ain't burnt, are you? As Oboe could not reply, Disco put his finger into the gravy from which the urchin had been rescued and satisfied himself that it was not hot enough to have done the child injury. This was also rendered apparent by his suddenly ceasing to cry, struggling off Disco's knee and renewing his assaults on his easygoing father. Accepting an egg which was offered him by Yochama, Harold broke it and entered into conversation with Canberra through the medium of Antonio. Is your boy's mother a hello? There's a chick in this egg, he exclaimed, throwing the offensive morsel into the fire. Jumbo, who sat near the place where it fell, snatched it up, grinned, and putting it into his cavernous mouth, swallowed it. Dems betterer with chickies, he said, resuming his gravity and his knife and fingers, forks being held by him in light esteem, asked him, Antonio, if Oboe's mother is alive, said Harold, trying another egg, which proved to be in better condition. The interpreter, instead of putting the question without comment, as was his want, shook his head, looked mysterious, and whispered, No better ask that. Hymns lost Hymns' wife. The slave hunters caught her some time ago, and carry her off when Hymns away hunting. Hymns awful mad. Worse than mad elephant when Hymns speaks to about her. Harold, of course, dropped the subject at once after remarking that he supposed Yochama was the child's grandmother. Yes, said Antonio, she be Cambira's mother, and Oboe's grandmother, both at once. This fact was, we may also say, self-evident for Oboe's attentions and favors were distributed exclusively between Yochama and Cambira, though the latter had unquestionably the larger share. During the course of the feast, beer was served round by the little man who had performed so deftly on the violin the previous evening. Drink, said Cambira, hospitably. I am glad to see my white brothers here. Drink, it will warm your hearts. I and it won't make us drunk, said Disco, destroying Jumbo's peace of mind by winking and making a face at him as he raised the calabash to his lips. Here's long life to you, Cambira, and death to slavery. There can be no doubt that the chief and his retainers would have heartily applauded that sentiment if they had understood it, but at the moment Antonio was too deeply engaged with another calabash to take the trouble to translate it. The beer which was pink and as thick as gruel was indeed too weak to produce intoxication are less taken in very large quantities. Nevertheless, many of the men were so fond of it that they sometimes succeeded in taking enough to bring them to the condition which we style fuddled. But at that time the particular brew was nearly exhausted so that temperance was happily the order of the day. Having no hops in those regions they were unable to prevent fermentation and are therefore obliged to drink up a whole brewing as quickly as possible after it is made. Man, why don't you wash your face, said Disco to the little fiddler as he replenished his calabash. It's awful dirty. Jumbo laughed, of course, and the small musician, not understanding what was said, followed suit out of sympathy. Wash him's face, cried Antonio, laughing. Him would as soon cut off his head. Manganja never wash. Ah, me, you laugh if you hear the woman's ask me yesterday. Why you wash, they say. Our men never do. Ho-ho! They looks like it too. I'm sure that cannot be said of Tambira or any of his chief men, Saint Harold. Perhaps not, retorted Antonio, but some of them never wash. Once upon a time one man of this tribe, father, a party me was with, not go away for all we tell him. He said we shoot him, no matter him's father still. At last we say, you scoundrel, we wash you. Ho, how him's run. Just like Zebra would lie in Adam's tail. Never see him after that, never more. What a monstrous, ugly fellow that is sitting opposite Tambira on the other side of the fire. The fellow with a half-shaved head said Disco in an undertone to Harold during a temporary pause in eating. A well-made man, however, replied Harold. I say Disco, he added, with a peculiar smile. You think yourself rather a good-looking fellow, don't you now? The worthy seaman who was, indeed, an exceptionally good-looking tar, modestly replied. Well now, as you have put it so, plump, I don't mind if I do confess that I've had some wild suspicions of that sort now and then. Then you may dismiss your suspicions now, for I can assure you that you are regarded in this land as a very monster of ugliness, said Harold, laughing. In the estimation of niggers your garments are hideous, your legs they think elephantine, your red beard frightful, and your blue eyes savage. Savage, think of that. Well, well, retorted Disco, your own eyes are as blue as mine, and I don't suppose the niggers think more of a yellow beard than a red one. True, Disco, we are both ill-favored fellows here, whatever we may be elsewhere. However, as we don't intend to take Mengangja wives, it won't matter much. But what think you of our plan now that Tambira is ready to fall in with it? It seems a good one, when do we start? Tomorrow, said Harold. Very good, replied Disco, I'm agreeable. The morrow came and with the early light all the people turned out to witness the departure of the hunters. Scouts had been previously sent out in all directions to make sure that no enemies or slave traders were at that time in their immediate neighborhood, and a strong force of the best warriors was left to guard the village. Of Harold's band, two half-casts, Jose and Oliveira, volunteered to stay in camp with the guard, and two, Sangolo and Mabruki, the freemen of Quilomane, remained in the village to recruit their health, which had failed. Chimbolo likewise remained, the wounds on his back not having healed sufficiently to admit of the hard labor of hunting. All the rest accompanied the hunters, and of these the three Macalolo men, Jumbo, Zambo and Massico were incomparably the best and bravest. Of course, the volatile Antonio also went being indispensable. On setting out, each man with his sleeping mat on his back, and his little wooden pillow hung at his neck, there was a great deal of shouting and ho-ho-ing, and well-wishing on the part of those who remained behind, but above all the noise there arose a shrill cry of intense and agonizing despair. This proceeded from the small windpipe of little Obo, who had not until the last moment made the appalling discovery that Cambira was going away without him. There was something very touching in the cry of the urchin, and something which brought vividly to the minds of the Englishmen the infantine community of their own land. There was the same sudden gaze of horror on realizing the true position of affairs, the same sharp shriek and frantic struggle to escape from the grasp of those who held him back from following his father, the same loud cry of agony and finding that his efforts were vain, and then the wide open mouth, the closed shut eyes, and the awful prolonged silence suggestive of fits that betokens the concentration of mind, heart, and lungs into that tremendous roar of unutterable significance which appears to be the safety valve of the human family, black and white, at that tender period of life. Poor Obo, his psalms continued to burst out with steam-menjin power, and his eyes to pour cataracts of tears into Yokohama's sympathetic bosom long after the hunting party had left the hills behind them and advanced into the almost impenetrable jungles of the low grounds. Chapter 12 describes a hunting expedition which was both exciting and successful. Down by the reedy margin of a pretty large lake, where wildfowl innumerable made the air vocal with their cries by day and frogs in numbers, inconceivable chirp and croaked a lullaby to men who slept, and a symphony to beast that howled and growled, and prowled at night in bush and break. Kambira pitched his camp. He did not indeed select the moist level of the fever-breeding marshes, but he chose for his temporary habitation the dry summit of a wooded hill which overlooked the lake. Here the natives of the neighborhood said that elephants had been lately seen, and buffaloes, zebras, etc., were all at times numerous. After two long days' march they had reached the spot and encamped late in the evening. Next morning early the business of the expedition began. Various parties of natives armed with bows and arrows and spheres were set out in different directions, but the principal band was composed of Kambira and his chief men, with Harald and his party. They did not go far before game was found. Yennefal were numerous, and those who were armed with bows soon procured a goodly supply of these, but our travelers did not waste their energies or powder on such small game. Besides these, monkeys peeped inquisitively at the hunters from among the trees. In myriads of turtledos were seen in the covers. As they advanced wild pigs, elans, waterbucks, kudus, and other creatures were seen in herds, and the natives dropped off or turned aside in pursuit of these, so that ere long the band remaining with Kambira was reduced to about forty men. Coming to a small river in which were a number of deep pools and shallows, they saw several hippopotamide lying asleep, their bodies nearly all out of the water, appearing like masses of black rock in the stream. But at the same place they discovered fresh traces of elephants and buffaloes, therefore the hippopotamide were left unmolested, save that Harald sent a bullet amongst them, partly to let the natives hear the report of his gun, and partly to see how the animals would take it. They all started to their feet at once and stared around them with looks of stolid surprise that were almost equal to the looks of the natives, to whom firearms were little known, except by report. Another shot sent the whole herd with a heavy plunge into deep water. It's a queer country, observed Disco, when they had resumed their march. Just look at them their lizards with red and blue tails running about among the rocks and eaten up the white ants like one o'clock. Disco might have said like twelve o'clock, if numbers would have added to the force of his remark, for the little creatures referred to were miraculously active in pursuit of their food. But I suppose, continued Disco, the niggers would think our country a queerer place than this. Undoubtedly they would, replied Harald, just fancy what would be the feelings of Canvira if he were suddenly transported into the heart of London. Hello! exclaimed Disco, stopping suddenly and pointing to one of the men in advance, who had crouched and made signals to his friends to halt. Breakers ahead, eh? More likely, Buffaloes, whispered Harald, as he cocked his rifle and advanced quickly with Canvira, who carried a short spear or javelin. On reaching an opening in the bushes, a small herd of zebras was observed not much more than a hundred yards in advance. Will the white man's gun kill so far? asked the chief, turning to Antonio. The interpreter made no reply but pointed to Harald, who was in the act of taking aim. The loud report was followed by the fall of the nearest zebra. Disco also fired and wounded another, which bounded away in wild alarm with its fellows. The natives yelled with delight, and Disco cheered in sympathy. You've hit him, said Harald, as he reloaded. I but I hadn't disabled him, better luck next time. I think I took him somewhere on the port bow. If by that you mean the left shoulder returned Harald with a left, it's likely he won't run far. What does Canvira think of the white man's gun, he added, turning round? The tall chief nodded approvingly and said with a grave count in its, good, good, it is good, better than this, shaking his short spear. At that moment, a small antelope, which had been startled and put to flight by some of the other bands of hunters, came crashing wildly towards them, ignorant of the enemy in its front until within about thirty yards. It turned at a sharp angle and plunged into the jungle, but the spear which Canvira had shaken whizzed through the air and pierced its heart before it had time to disappear. A splendid heave cried Disco with enthusiasm. Why, man alive, you'd make your fortune as a harpooner if he was to go to the whale-fishing. Hello, there's something else. Why, the place is swarming. It's for all the world like a zoological gardens let loose. As he spoke, the hooves of a herd of ponderous animals were heard, but the rank grass in Underwood concealed them entirely from view. The whole party rushed to the nearest opening and were just in time to see the tail of an irate buffalo make a magnificent flourish in the air as its owner plunged into cover. There was no further attempted conversation after this. The near presence of large game was too exciting so that merely a word of advice, direction, or inquiry passed as the party advanced rapidly, one or two of the most active going before as pioneers. While Disco was striding along with flashing eyes, ripe already, and head turning from side to side in momentary expectation of something bounding suddenly out of somewhere, he chanced to cast his eyes upward, and to his horror beheld two huge serpents coiled together among the branches of a tree close to his head. Uttering a yell of alarm, for he entertained an almost superstitious dread of serpents, he fired blindly upwards and dashed to one side so violently that he tumbled himself and heralded into a bush of weight-a-bit thorns, out of which the laughing natives found it difficult to extract them. What is the matter, man? said Harold somewhat testily. Have a care. Look, a vast, a vital be death, and no mistake cried Disco, pointing to the reptiles. Harold fired at once and brought them both down, and the natives attacking them with sticks soon killed them. No fear, said Antonio with a chuckle. Dem not harm no body, though I'm as ugly and big enough. This was true. They were a couple of pythons, and the larger of the two female was ten feet long. But the python is a harmless creature. While they were talking, smoke was observed to rise from an isolated clump of long grass and bushes not far from the banks of the river, much to the annoyance of Canvira, who feared that the fire might spread and scare away the game. It was confined, however, to the place where it began, but it had the effect of driving out a solitary buffalo that had taken refuge in the cover. Jumbo chanced to be most directly in front of the infuriated animal when it burst out, and to him exclusively it diverted its attentions. Never since Jumbo was the size of oboe had that laughter-loving savage used his lithe legs with greater energy than on this occasion. An ostrich might have envied him as he rushed towards the river, into which he sprang headlong when the buffalo was barely six feet behind him. Of course, Harold fired as well as Disco, and both shots told, as also a spear from Canvira, nevertheless the animal turned abruptly on seeing Jumbo disappear and charged furiously up the bank, scattering its enemies right and left. Harold fired again that little more than fifty yards off, and heard the bullet thud as it went in just behind the shoulder. Yet, strange to say, it seemed to have no other effect than to rouse the brute to greater wrath, and two more bullets failed to bring him down. This toughness of the buffalo is by no means uncommon, but different animals very much in their tenacity of life. Some fall at once to the first well-directed shot, others die hard. The animal the hunters were now in pursuit of, or rather, which was in pursuit of the hunters, seemed to be of the latter class. Harold fired another shot from behind a tree, having loaded with a shell bullet which exploded on hitting the creature's ribs. It fell much to the satisfaction of Disco, of whom it happened to be in pursuit at that time. The semen at once stopped and began to reload, and the natives came running forward when Antonio, who had climbed a tree to be out of harm's way, slipped down and ran with great bravery up to the prostrate animal. Just as he reached it, the buffalo sprang up with the activity of a cat and charged him. Antonio turned and ran with such rapidity that his little legs became almost invisible, like those of a sparrow in a hurry. He gained a tree and had just time to climb into it when the buffalo struck it like a battering ram, hard enough almost to have split both head and tree. It paused a few seconds, drew back several paces, glared savagely at Antonio, and then charged again and again, as if resolved either to shake him out of the tree or give itself a splitting headache. But another shell from Harold, who could hardly take aim for laughing, stretched the huge animal dead upon the ground. All together it took two shells and five large, solid rifle balls to finish him. That was a pretty good spurt, said Disco, panting as he joined Harold beside the fallen beast. It's well known that a star and chase is a longan, but this would have been an exception to the rule if you hadn't shot him, sir. He mighty nigh made short work of me. He was almost a bore to me when you fired. True, said Harold, and had that tree not grown where it stands and grown tough, too, I suspect he would have made short work of Antonio, too. That, said the interpreter with affected carelessness, him was but a slow brute, that's all. Disco looked at Jumbo, who was none the worse of his ducking, and shut his right eyes smartly. Jumbo opened his cavernous mouth and exploded so violently that his double row of brilliant teeth must have been blown out and scattered on the ground, had they not been miraculously strong. Come now, said Canberra, who had just given order to some of his followers to remain behind and look after the carcass. We go to find elephants. Have we much chance of finding them, inquired Disco. Canberra thought they had, because fresh traces had been recently seen in the neighborhood, whereupon Disco said that he would prefer to go after lions, but Canberra assured him that these animals were not so easy to find, and much more dangerous when attacked. Admitting the force of this, though still asserting his preference of lions to elephants, the bloodthirsty son of Neptune shouldered his rifle and followed his leader. While the main party of hunters were thus successfully pushing along, the other bands were not idle, though possessing no firearms, they were less noisy. In fact, their proceedings were altogether of the cat-cattie. One fellow as black as coal, as light as an eel, and as long according to Disco's standard as a fathom of pump water, having come upon a herd of buffalo unseen by them, and being armed with a small bow and quiver of arrows, suddenly dropped at all fours and began to glide through the long grass. Now there is a particular little bird in those regions which calls for special notice here. It is a very singular bird, in as much as it has constituted itself the guardian of the buffalo. It frequently sits upon that animal's back, and whenever it sees the approach of man, or any other danger, it flaps its wings and screams to such an extent that the buffalo rushes off without waiting to inquire or see what is the matter, and the small guardian seems to think itself sufficiently rewarded with the pickings it finds on the back of its fat friend. So vigilant is this little creature that it actually renders the approach of the hunter a matter of great difficulty in circumstances when, but or it, he might approach with ease. Note, see Livingston's Zambezi and its tributaries, page 200. End of note. Our wary native was, however, aware of this little fellow's propensities, and took precautions to outwit the bird rather than the bees. It may perhaps cause some surprise to be told that a small bow and arrows were a sufficiently powerful species of artillery to bring to bear against such noble gain, but the surprise will vanish when we state that the arrows were poisoned. Having crawled to within range, the fathom of black pump water suddenly arose and let fly an arrow. The missile went deep into the side of a majestic bull. The little bird fluttered and screamed too late. The bull at once dashed away at full speed, starting off the whole herd in alarm. The black fathom followed at the top of his speed and was joined by a number of other black fathoms who were quite aware of what had been done. The buffaloes were soon out of sight, but the fathoms followed the trail with the unerring pertinacity of fate. After a long run they came up with the stricken bull which had fallen behind its fellows, and waited patiently until the poison took full effect. In a short time the animal fell, and the successful hunters fell to work upon his carcass with their knives. Leaving them thus employed, we will return to Canbira and his friends. They had not gone far when a fine waterbuck was observed feeding beside a creek. Canbira laid his hand on Harold's shoulder and pointed to it with a smile which might have been interpreted. Now then, there's a chance for you. Harold fired and the waterbuck dropped. Good! said Canbira. Hello! exclaimed Disko. And well he might, for at that moment an enormous crocodile which had evidently been watching the waterbuck seized and dragged it into the water. It was not deep, however, and the wounded animal made a desperate plunge, hauled the crocodile several yards, and tore itself out of its hideous jaws. It then jumped into the stream and was swimming across when another crocodile made a dash at it. But Harold sent a ball into its ugly head, which appeared to make it change its mind. It disappeared, and the waterbuck turning made for the bank from which it had started, just as it reached the vital spark fled, the fine head dropped, and the body turned over. It will be seen from what has been told that on this occasion the rifles did most of the work. The natives who followed Harold had nothing to do but look on exultingly, glare, dance, show their teeth and gums, and secure the game. We cannot perhaps expect the good-natured reader to follow us through all the details of that day's work. But it would be unpardonable where we would close the chapter without referring to the principally then of the day, which occurred a couple of hours after the shooting of the waterbuck. It happened thus. When the hunters began to grow tired and the prospect of falling in with large gain became less hopeful, the chief determined to return to camp. But Disco felt so disappointed at not having seen an elephant or a lion that he expressed a wish to continue the chase with a small select party. Harold laughed at the idea of the seaman leading such a party, but offered no objection, although he did not care to accompany his friend, having, as he said, had enough of it, and being desirous of having a long chat with the chief in camp. You see, sir, said Disco patting the stock of his rifle with his right hand, we chance to have got, so to speak, into the heart of a shoal of big fish, and there's no say in how soon they may take it into their heads to up anchor and make sail for other grounds. Therefore, says I, blaze away at them while you've got the chance. But you may have as good a chance tomorrow or next day, suggested Harold. We ain't sure that, sir. Tomorrow they say, never comes, return Disco. It's my ambition to let fly a broadside at a lion or an elephant, so I mean's for to go on, and what I says is, who volunteers to sail in company? When the party were given to understand what volunteers meant, the three Macalolo men joined the tar with alacrity, also the Somali Negroes, Nicota and Kanda, and about a dozen of the natives armed with spears. Disco's own men were armed with their guns, Antonio being necessary to Harold returned to camp, but this was a matter of little importance as Jumbo and his fellow countrymen knew enough of English to act as interpreters. Everyone who has had a few years experience of life knows the truth of the proverb which asserts that, fortune favors the brave. Its truth was exemplified on the present occasion not more than an hour after the little band of heroes had set out. Disco led the way, as a matter of course, holding as he said that no nigger could possibly be equal to a white sailor in the matter of steering, whether a shore or a float. He steered by the sun and directed his course to nowhere in particular, being influenced chiefly by the form of the ground and the appearance of the jungle. Jumbo grinned a good deal at the sententious gravity with which the leader delivered his orders and the self-important strides with which he passed over the land. He would have grinned still more, perhaps have laughed outright if he had understood that the occasional offhand kicks, which Disco bestowed on a thick bush here and there, were given in the hope that a lion might thereby be set up, as one dislodges a rabbit or a hare. At last, on reaching the crest of a mound, which was comparatively free of underwood, Disco beheld the sight which caused him to drop on his hands and knees, as though he had been shot. Not more than fifty yards off a herd of cow elephants and their calves were seen feeding quietly on tall, heavy-seated grass in the plain below. Avast, said Disco in a hoarse whisper, at the same time crouching behind a bush and making frantic signals to the rest of the party to advance with extreme caution. What I'm seeing, inquired Jumbo in low whisper, creeping up to his excited leader. There was no need for a reply. A glance over the top of the bush suffice. Be quiet as mice now, lads, said Disco, when all the members of his party had crept around him, and become aware of the presence of elephants. Get your guns laid, and if any one of you dares to pull a trigger till I give the world, I'll key-haul him. This or something distantly resembling it, having been explained to the men who carried guns, they lay down and took aim. The noise made by the hunters attracted the attention of the nearest elephant, and with true motherly instinct, she placed her young one between her forelegs for protection. We fire right in the middle of the lot, inquired Jumbo hastily. Not at all, whispered Disco. Let every man point at the nearest one, the one that lays broadside onto us, with the little one under her bows. Now, ready, present, fire. Bang with the seven guns with a degree of precision that might have put to shame any core of volunteer riflemen in England. Up with the trunks and tails of the elephants, little and big, and away rushed the whole herd in dire alarm. But the wounded animal suddenly stumbled and fell on its knees, then leaped up and ran on heavily. Meanwhile Disco, who had discharged only one barrel of his heavy gun, leaped over the bushes and rushed forward at a pace which for a few seconds enabled him to keep ahead, even of the fleet natives. The elephants, however, easily left them all behind, and it appeared as if the affair were about to end in disappointment when the wounded feast again stumbled. Hold on, halt! cried Disco in a voice of thunder. He kneeled at the same time, took aim, and fire. Whether it was this last shot or the effects of the previous loss of blood, we cannot tell. But after receiving it, the ponderous animal rolled over on its side and died. To say that the natives became temporarily insane would give but a feeble idea of what now took place, because few readers are likely to be aware of the amazing power of the negro to give expression to the vagaries of insanity. We shall therefore content ourselves by saying that they cheered, laughed, howled, shouted, danced, and yelled, and leave the rest to imagination. Now then, boys, I've asked Holland, clap a stopper on your bellows, will he? said Disco in a boson's roar that effectually quelled the tumult. Cut off to camp every mother's son of you, and bring up Canbira and all the boys with as many knives and dishes as you can muster, for this mountain of flesh ain't going to be cut up in a hurry, and the sun won't be long ago into bed. Away with thee, let's see how you can wag your black legs, and I'll keep watch over the carcass. If anything comes to have a look at it, a lion, for instance, so much the worse for the lion. It was in vain that Jumbo explained there was no necessity for sending more than one of the party to the camp. Disco was a strict disciplinarian, and having given the order enforced it in a manner which admitted of no disobedience. They therefore departed leaving the seamen seated on the elephant, smoking his pipe with his gun beside him. But Jumbo did not go far. He soon turned aside from his companions and returned to the scene of the hunt, resolved if possible to give his leader a fright. Gaining the skirts of the jungle which surrounded the open space where Disco kept watch, he crept cautiously as near to him as possible. Disco sat smoking and eyeing the elephant with a smile of satisfaction. Presently he rose, retreated a few yards from the carcass, and stood admiring it with his head on one side, as if it were a picture, and he, a connoisseur. He had in this act approached somewhat nearer to Jumbo, who saluted him with a most awful growl. No monkey in Africa could have dropped its pipe had it been a smoker or sprung to seize its gun had it been a sportsman with greater agility than did Disco Lillehammer on that trying occasion. Getting on the other side of the dead elephant he faced around cocked both barrels and prepared to receive whatever might come. Jumbo lying very low behind a bank of earth for safety gave another low growl. Disco started and half raised his piece. Jumbo then threw a large stone towards a neighboring bush which it struck and caused to rustle. Disco was enough for Disco, who took a quick aim and let fly the contents of both barrels into the bush. Jumbo noiselessly but swiftly crept back into the woods, chuckling as he went, leaving Disco to reload in wild haste. But his haste was uncalled for. There was no more growling, no more rustling in the bushes. I've done for him, muttered Disco, after waiting patiently at the ready for some time, but it won't do for me to venture up to it all by myself. Perhaps it's a line and they do say it's chancey work to go near a wounded lion. To be sure the growl wasn't so loud as I'd have expected of the king of the forest, but then they don't always growl loud. Anyway, I'll keep a bright lookout and wait till the niggers return. Philosophizing this, the bold seaman mounted guard over the elephant. Meanwhile, Jumbo having got out of earshot of his friend indulged in a loud laugh and made after his friends but observing the visage of a small yellow-colored monkey among the leaves overhead, a thought flashed into his mind and induced him to change his plans. Throwing his spear dexterously he transfixed the monkey and brought it down. Returning with great caution to the bush into which Disco had fired and gliding with the noiseless motion of a snake the latter part of the way, he placed a dead monkey on the ground and left it there. It was by that time too late to overtake his comrades. He therefore waited until they returned and then joined the party in rear as though he had followed them from the camp. The same wild exhibition of delight was about to be enacted when the party came trooping up, but Disco quickly checked it by the astounding announcement that he thought he had shot a lion or something of that sort. You don't mean it, said Harold, rather excited. All I know is, said Disco, that I hear something uncommon like a lion growl twice in Yonder Bush. It saw the bush move too, so I fired a broadside that seemed to finish him at once, for there was no more rustling after that. And no more growling, asked Jumbo, with much simplicity of countenance. Not a growl, nor nothing else, answered Disco. Well, get your guns ready, lads, said Harold, and stand by to fire while we go and search the bush. So saying, Harold and Disco advanced together with their rifles ready, while the natives, who were more or less alarmed, according to their respective degrees of courage, scattered in a semi-circle, wailed in rear. Canberra armed with a spear kept close to Harold, and Jumbo with unwanted bravery walked alongside of Disco. Antonio, quietly retiring, took refuge in a tree. You sure you hit him, inquired Jumbo in a whisper. Can't say I'm sure, replied Disco, but we'll soon see. Was almost growl very bad, asked Jumbo. Hold your long tongue, said Disco testily, for he was becoming excited. Look, see there, exclaimed Jumbo in an energetic whisper. What, where? Look, right through the bush, this way. There, don't you see him skinned? To utter, to utter side, fire. Hey, exclaimed Disco, peering keenly through the leaves, yellow hair. Yes, it's. Stopping abruptly, he pointed his gun at the bush, and poured the contents of both barrels into it. Then, clubbing his weapon and brandishing it into the air, he uttered a wild cry, went crashing through the bush, and next moment stood aghast before the yellow monkey, whose little carcass he had almost blown to atoms. We won't chronicle the roars of laughter, the yells of delight that followed, the immense amount of chaffing, the innumerable witticisms and criticisms that ensued. No, no, regard for the gallant seamen constrains us to draw a veil over the scene and leave it, as we have left many things before, and shall leave many things yet to come to the reader's vivid imagination. Fortunately for Disco, the superior attractions of the dead elephant soon drew off attention from this exploit. The natives proceeded to cut up the huge mass of meat, and this was indeed an amazing spectacle. At first the men stood around the carcass in dead silence, while Canberra delivered a species of oration, in which he pointed out minutely the particular parts of the animal, which were to be a portion to the headmen of the different fires of which camp was composed, the left hind leg and the parts around the eyes being allotted to his English visitors. These points settled, the order was given to cut up, and immediately the excitement which had been restrained burst forth again with tenfold violence. The natives seemed to be quite unable to restrain their feelings of delight, as they cut away at the carcass with spears and knives. They screamed as well as danced with glee. Some attacked the head, others the flanks, jumping over the animal or standing on it the better to expedite their operations. Some, ever entered on, ran off screaming with masses of bloody meat, threw it on the grass, and went back for more, while others, after cutting the carcass open, jumped inside and wallowed about in their eagerness to reach and cut out the precious fat, all talking and shouting at the utmost pitch of their voices. Well now, said Disco to Harold with a grin of amusement, the lights of that I never did see no wears, cutting up a greenland whale is nothing to it. Come, come, said Harold, checking his laughter and seizing an excited negro by the shoulder. No fighting allowed. This had reference to two who chanced to have taken a fancy for the same mass of meat, and were quarreling so violently over it that blows seemed on the point of following, but having left off part of their super abundant energy and words, they rushed back to expend the remainder on their dead friend. Suddenly a sharp agonized yell was heard inside the carcass. Next moment, Zombo jumped out all bloody and furious, holding up his right hand. While groping about inside, one of his two eager comrades outside had laid about rather unconsciously with his knife, drove it through the meat, and sliced Zombo's left hand. He was easily soothed, however, Harold bound up the cut with a piece of rag, and Zombo went to work as recklessly as ever. In a marvelously short time, tons of meat were cut up and divided amongst the band, and before daylight had quite disappeared, the hunters were on their way back to camp, while a troop of hyenas and other carnivora were gorging themselves with the elephants remains. 13. The Encampment and the Supper Discussions political and otherwise Canvira receives a shock, and our wanderers are thrown into perplexity. 14. Turn we now to a more peaceful scene. The camp is almost quiet, the stars are twinkling brightly overhead, the fires are glimmering fitfully below. The natives, having taken the edge off their appetites, have stretched their dusky forms on their sleeping mats and laid their woolly heads on their little wooden pillows. The only persons moving are Harold C. Drift and Disco Lillehammer. The first being busy making notes in a small book, the second being equally busy in manufacturing cloudlets from his unfailing pipe, gazing the wild with much interest at his note-making companion. They was pretty vigorous when they was at it, sir, said Disco in reference to Supper, observing that his companion looked up from his book, but they was sooner done than I had expected. Yes, they weren't long about it, replied Harold with an abstracted air, as he resumed his writing. Lest the reader should erroneously imagine that Supper is over, it is necessary to explain what taking the edge off a free African's appetite means. On reaching camp after the cutting up of the elephant as detailed in the last chapter, the Negroes had set to work to roast and boil with a degree of vigor that would have surprised even the chef's decuisine of the world's first-class hotels. Having gorged themselves to an extent that civilized people might perhaps have thought dangerous, they had then commenced an uproarious dance, accompanied by stentorian songs, which soon reduced them to the condition of beings who needed repose. Proceeding upon the principle of overcoming temptation by giving way to it, they at once lay down and went to sleep. It was during this stage of the night's proceedings that Disko foolishly imagined that Supper had come to a close. Not many minutes after the observation was made, and before the black-cutty pipe was smoked out, first one, and then another of the sleepers awoke, and after a yawn or two, got up to rouse the fires and put on the cooking pots. In less than a quarter of an hour the whole camp was a stir, conversation was rife, and the bubbling of pots that had not got time to cool, and the hissing of roasts whose fat had not yet hardened mingled with songs whose echoes were still floating in the brains of the wild inhabitants of the surrounding jungle. Roasting, boiling, and eating were recommenced with as much energy as if feast had only just begun. Kambira, having roused himself, gave orders to one of his men who brought one of the elephant's feet and set about the cooking of it at Harold's fire. Kambira and Disko, with Antonio and Jumbo, sat round the same fire. There was a hole in the ground close beside them which contained a small fire. The embers of this were stirred up and replenished with fuel. When the inside was thoroughly heated, the elephant's foot was placed in it and covered over with hot ashes and soil, and another fire kindled above the hole. Harold, who regarded this proceeding with some surprise, said to Kambira, through Antonio, who are you cooking that for? For my white guess, replied the chief. But we have supped already, said Harold, we have already eaten as much as we can hold of the elephant's trunk and tongue, both of which were excellent. Why prepare more? This is not for tonight, but for tomorrow, returned Kambira with a smile. The foot takes all night to cook. This was a sufficient explanation, and in truth the nature of the dish required that it should be well done. When, on the morrow, they were called to partake of it, they found that it was, according to Disko's estimation, first great. It was a whitish mass, slightly gelatinous and sweet like marrow and very palatable. Nevertheless, they learned from experience that if the effective bile were to be avoided, a long march was necessary after a meal of elephant's foot. Meanwhile, the proceedings of the natives were food enough for our travelers for the time being. Like human creatures elsewhere, they displayed great variety of taste. Some preferred boiled meat, others roast. A few indulged in porridge made of mappira meal. The meal was very good, but the porridge was doubtful owing to the cookery. It would appear that in Africa, as in England, woman excels in the culinary art. At all events, the mappira meal was better managed by them than by the men. On the present occasion, the hunters tumbled in the meal by handfuls and rapid succession as soon as the water was hot, until it became too thick to be stirred about. Then it was lifted off the fire, and one man held the pot while another plied the porridge stick with all his might to prevent the solid mass from being burnt. Thus it was prepared and thus eaten in enormous quantities. No wonder that dancing and profuse perspiration were esteemed a necessary adjunct to feeding. At the close of the second edition of supper, which went into four or five editions before morning, some of the men at the fire next to that of Canberra engaged in a debate so furious that the curiosity of Disco and Harold was excited, and they caused Antonio to translate much of what was said. It is not possible to give a connected account of this debate as translated by Antonio. To overcome the difficulty, we shall give the substance of it in what Disco styled Antonio's lingo. There were about a dozen natives round the fire, but two of them sustained the chief part in the debate. One of these was a large man with a flat nose, the other was a small man with a large frizzy head. Hold Wu's tongue, said flat nose so Antonio named him, tongue too long far, but Wu's brains too short, retorted frizzy head contemptuously. An immense amount of chattering by the others followed these pithy remarks of the principles. The question in debate was whether the two toes of the ostrich represented the thumb and forefinger in man, or the little and ring fingers, but in a few minutes the subject changed gradually and somehow unaccountably to questions of a political nature. For strange to say in savage Africa, as in civilized England, politics are keenly discussed, doubtless at times with equal wisdom in the one land as in the other. What did Wu say? inquired flat nose on hearing some muttered remarks of frizzy head in reference to the misgovernment of chiefs. Of course there, as here, present company was understood to be accepted. Chiefs of no use, no use at all, said frizzy head so vehemently that the men at several of the nearest fires ceased to talk and began to listen. Up no use? cried flat nose with vehemence so superior that the attention of the whole camp was arrested. No, replied frizzy head, still more energetically. Up no use at all. We could govern ourselves betterer, so what the use of them? The chief umps fat and had plenty wife, but we, who do all the hard work, have hunger and only one wife, perhaps none at all. This is bad, unjust, wrong. There was a general shout of e, from all quarters, which was equivalent to our here, here. Oh no, nothing at all, retorted flat nose, who was a loyal subject. Is not the chief defotter a deep people? Can there be people without a fodder, a? God made the chief. Who says that chief is not wise? He is wise, but umps chilem and big fools. Hambira nodded his head and smiled at this, and there was a general inclination on the part of most of the audience to applaud. For there, as elsewhere, men have a tendency to be blown about by every wind of doctrine. It was amusing to observe the earnestness and freedom with which men of the lowest grade assaulted the opinions of their betterers on this occasion. Unable at other times or in any other way to bring themselves into importance, they were glad of the opportunity to do so with their tongues, and, like their civilized types, they assumed an air of mock modesty. Oh, cried one of these in replied flat nose, we as little infants, we as still holden unto the bosoms of our mutters. We will not be able to walk alone, we know nothing at all, but on this point we know that you old men speak like the ignorant people. We never hear such nonsense, never. No notice was taken of this, but frizzy head, whose passion was rising to white heat, in consequence of the glibness of his opponent's tongue, cried out. Oh, cannot prove what O says. O, yes, can prove it well enough, replied flat nose, but O's no got brain for honor stand. This last was too much for poor frizzy head, who leaped up, stuttered, and cried, can O outrun me then? Yes, guessed flat nose, springing up. Away they went like two hundred springbox, and ran for a mile, then turn and came back into camp streaming with perspiration. Little frizzy head far ahead of the big man, and rejoicing in the fact that he could beat his opponent in a race, if not in an argument. Thus was peace restored. Pity that civilized arguments cannot be terminated in the same way. While these discussions were going on, Disco observed that hyenas were occasionally to be seen prowling near the verge of the bushes around them, as if anxious to join in the feast, which no doubt was the case. Don't they do mischief sometimes? he inquired of Antonio. No, him a cowardly beast, him come at men's while sleeping or dying, but not at other time, or like see me catch them? Why, yes, if he can do it, answered Disco, with a slight look of contempt at his friend, who bore too much resemblance in some points to the hyena. Come here then. They went together into the jungle a little distance, and halted under the branch of a large tree. To this Antonio suspended a lump of raw flesh at such a height from the ground that a hyena could only reach it by leaping. Directly underneath it he planted a short spear in the earth, with its point upward. Now, come back to the fire, he said to Disco, who soon hear something. Antonio was right. In a short time afterwards a sharp yell was heard, and on running to the trap, they found a hyena in its death agonies. It had leaped at the meat, missed it, and come down on the spear, and impaled itself. Well, of all the fellas I'd ever known for dodges, said Disco, on reseating himself at the fire, the men in these latitudes are the cleverest. By this time, dancing was going on furiously. Therefore, as it would have been impossible to sleep, Disco refilled his pipe, and amused himself by contemplating the intelligent countenance of Canberra, who sat smoking bang out of a huge native mirsham on the other side of the fire. I wonder, said Harold, who lay stretched on a sleeping mat, leaning on his right arm, and gazing contemplatively at the glowing heart of the fire. I wonder what has become of Yusu. Was he thinking that he deserved to be shoved in there, asked Disco, pointing to the fire? Not exactly, replied Harold, laughing, but I have frequently thought of the scoundrel and wondered where he is and what doing now. I have sometimes thought, too, about that girl azinte, poor thing. She—he paused abruptly and gazed at Canberra with great surprise, not unmixed with alarm, for the chief had suddenly dropped his pipe and glared at him in a manner that cannot be described. Disco observed the change also, and was about to speak when Canberra sprang over the fire and seized Harold by the arm. There was something in the movement, however, which forbade the idea of an attack, therefore he lay still. What now, Canberra, he said. Antonio cried the chief in a voice that brought the interpreter to his side in a twinkling. What name did the white man speak just now? Azinte, said Harold, rising to a sitting posture. Canberra sat down, drew up his knees to his chin, and clasped his hands round them. Tell me all you know about Azinte, he said in a low, firm voice. It was evident that the chief was endeavoring to restrain some powerful feeling, for his face black though it was indicated a distinct degree of pallor, and his lips were firmly compressed together. Harold, therefore, much surprised as well as interested, related the little he knew about the poor girl, his meeting with her in Yusuf's hut, Disco's kindness to her, and her subsequent departure with the arrow. Canberra sat motionless until he had finished. Do you know where she is gone? He inquired. No, I know not, but she was not in the boat with the other slaves when we sailed, from which I think it likely that she remained upon the coast. But why do you ask Canberra, why are you so anxious about her? She is my wife, muttered the chief between his teeth, and, as he said so, a frown that was absolutely diabolical settled down on his features. For some minutes there was a dead silence, for both Harold and Disco felt intuitively that to offer consolation or hope were out of the question. Presently Canberra raised his head, and a smile chased the frown away as he said, You have been kind to Azinte. Will you be kind to her husband? We should be indeed unworthy the name of Englishman if we said no to that, replied Harold, glancing at Disco, who not at approval. Good, will you take me with you to the shores of the great Salt Lake? said Canberra in a low pathetic tone. Will you make me your servant, your slave? Most gladly will I take you with me as a friend, returned Harold. I need not ask why you wish to go, he added. You go to seek Azinte? Yes, cried the chief, springing up wildly and drawing himself up to his full height. I go to seek Azinte. Ho, up men, up! He have feasted enough and slept enough for one night. Who knows but the slavers may be at our huts while we lie wildly here. Up, let us go. The ringing tones acted like a magic spell. Savage camps are soon pitched and soon erased. In a few minutes the obedient hunters had bundled up all their possessions, and in less than a quarter of an hour the whole band was tracking its way by moonlight through the pathless jungle. The pace at which they traveled home was much more rapid than that at which they had set out on their expedition. Somehow the vigorous tones in which Canberra had given command to break up the camp, coupled with his words, roused the idea that he must have received information of danger threatening the village, and some of the more anxious husbands and fathers, unable to restrain themselves, left the party altogether and ran back the whole way. To their great relief, however, they found on arriving that all was quiet. The women were singing and at work in the fields, the children shouting at play, and the men at their wanted occupation of weaving cotton cloth or making nets and bows under the banyan trees. Perplexity is not a pleasant condition of existence. Nevertheless, to perplexity mankind is more or less doomed in every period of life and in every mundane scene, particularly in the jungles of Central Africa, as Harold and his friends found out many a time to their cost. On arriving at the native village, the chief point that perplexed our hero there was as to whether he should return to the coast at once or push on further into the interior. On the one hand he wished very much to see more of the land and its inhabitants. On the other hand, Cambira was painfully anxious to proceed at once to the coast in search of his lost wife and pressed him to set off without delay. The chief was rather an exception in regard to his feelings on this point. Most other African potentates had several wives, and in the event of losing one of them might have found consolation in the others. But Cambira had never apparently thought of taking another wife after the loss of a zente, and the only comfort he had was in his little boy, who bore a strong resemblance in some points to the mother. But although Harold felt strong sympathy with the man and would have gone a long way out of his course to aid him, he could not avoid perceiving that the case was almost, if not altogether, a hopeless one. He had no idea to what part of the coast a zente had been taken. For all he knew to the contrary, she might have been long ago shipped off to the northern markets, and probably was, even while he talked of her, the inmate of an Arum harem, or at all events a piece of goods, a chattel in the absolute possession of an irresponsible master. Besides the improbability of Cambira ever hearing what had become of his wife, or to what part of the earth she had been transported, there was also the difficulty of devising any definite course of action for the chief himself. Because the instant he should venture to leave the protection of the Englishman, he would be certain to fall into the hands of Arabs or Portuguese and become enslaved. Much of this Harold had not the heart to explain to him. He dwelt, however, pretty strongly on the latter contingency, though without producing much effect. Death, the chief replied, he did not fear, and slavery could easily be exchanged for death. Alas, not so easily as you think, said Harold, pointing to Chimbolo, who sad story he had heard, they will try every kind of torture before they kill you. Chimbolo nodded his head, ascending, and ground his teeth together fiercely when this was said. Still, Cambira was unmoved. He did not care what they did to him. Azinte was as life to him, and to search for her he would go in spite of every consideration. Harold prevailed on him, however, to agree to wait until he should have spent another month in visiting Chimbolo's tribe, after which he promised faithfully to return and take him along with his party to the coast. Neither Harold nor Disco was quite at ease in his mind after making this arrangement, but they both agreed that no other course could be pursued, the former saying with a sign that there was no help for it, and the latter asserting with a grunt that the thing was unavoidable. On the following day, the journey of exploration was resumed. Cambira accompanied his friends a few miles on the road, and then bade them farewell. On the summit of an elevated ridge, the party hauled it and looked back. Cambira's manly form could be seen leaning on his spear. Behind him, the little village lay embuzoned in luxuriant verdure, and glowing in the bright sunshine, while songs and sounds of industry floated towards them like a sweet melody. It was with a feeling of keen regret that the travelers turned away after waving their hands in reply to a parting salute from the stalwart chief, and, descending to the plain, pushed forward into the unknown wilderness beyond.