They now came to the territory of another great chief, Katema, who received them hospitably, sending food and giving them solemn audience in his kotla surrounded by his tribe.  A tall man of forty, dressed in a snuff-brown coat with a broad band of tinsel down the arms, and a helmet of beads and feathers.  He carried a large fan with charms attached, which he waved constantly during the audience, often laughing heartily—­“a good sign, for a man who shakes his sides with mirth is seldom difficult to deal with.”

“I am the great Moene Katema!” was his address; “I and my fathers have always lived here, and there is my father’s house.  I never killed any of the traders; they all come to me.  I am the great Moene Katema, of whom you have heard.”  On hearing Livingstone’s object, he gave him three guides, who would take him by a northern route, along which no traders had passed, to avoid the plains, impassable from the floods.  He accepted Livingstone’s present of a shawl, a razor, some beads and buttons, and a powder-horn graciously, laughing at his apologies for its smallness, and asking him to bring a coat from Loanda, as the one he was wearing was old.

From this point troubles multiplied, and they began to be seriously pressed for food.  The big game had disappeared, and they were glad to catch moles and mice.  Every chief demanded a present for allowing them to pass, and the people of the villages charged exorbitantly for all supplies.  On they floundered, however, through flooded forests.  In crossing the river Loka, Livingstone’s ox got away from him, and he had to strike out for the farther bank.  “My poor fellows were dreadfully alarmed, and about twenty of them made a simultaneous rush into the water for my rescue, and just as I reached the opposite bank one seized me by the arms and another clasped me round the body.  When I stood up it was most gratifying to see them all struggling toward me.  Part of my goods were brought up from the bottom when I was safe.  Great was their pleasure when they found I could swim like themselves, and I felt most grateful to those poor heathens for the promptitude with which they dashed in to my rescue.”  Farther on, the people tried to frighten them with the account of the deep rivers they had yet to cross, but his men laughed. “‘We can all swim,’ they said; ’who carried the white man across the river but himself?’ I felt proud of their praise.”

On March 4th they reached the country of the Chiboques, a tribe in constant contact with the slave-dealers.  Next day their camp was surrounded by the nearest chief and his warriors, evidently bent on plunder.  They paused when they saw Livingstone seated on his camp-stool, with his double-barrelled gun across his knees, and his Makololos ready with their javelins.  The chief and his principal men sat down in front at Livingstone’s invitation to talk over the matter, and a palaver began as to the fine claimed by the Chiboque.  “The more I yielded, the