rings the command and everyone goes to bed, and then one appreciates the real silence of the equatorial forest which one has heard about at home.  Within a few yards, hundreds of frogs commence to croak loudly and continue steadily, with a few pauses to breathe, until daybreak.  Hundreds of monkeys screech shrilly in the trees and millions of mosquitoes hum steadily within an inch or two of one’s ears.  All manner of animal cries are heard in the forest and the hippos blow loudly as they rise to the surface to breathe.  As a matter of fact, the noise at midnight in the forest, when every beast, bird and insect is busy hunting for food, is greater than at any other time, and at midday only, one enjoys comparative quiet when all the animal kingdom is asleep.

[Illustration:  THE AMERICAN MISSION HOUSE AT LEOPOLDVILLE.]

One evening I went ashore with Chikaia for a stroll on the beach, carrying only a gun.  We soon found a number of ducks and as they had never been fired at before probably, they were not scared away by the noise of the gun, but kept wheeling round and round overhead affording very easy shots.  It would indeed have been easy to shoot them all.  There was, however, no reason to do so and having collected a couple or two to make a welcome change from the daily goat of the steamer, we started back when a fine antelope-cheval rushed from the wood across the sandy beach towards the water.  Chikaia at once became very excited and wished me to fire, but it was useless, as the beast was more than a hundred yards away.  It was satisfactory to find the boy was a keen sportsman, even though he did not appreciate the different capacities of a gun and a rifle.  However, I made a mental note never to go, even for a casual stroll in Africa, without both weapons.

On returning to the ship, we hear that the Captain’s boy has killed a hippo and that dozens of others are waiting to be shot.  We therefore determine to try some shooting by moonlight and Chikaia is delighted when he sees the gras as he calls my Lee-Metford come out of its case.  It is a beautiful night with clear, cool air.  Streams of silver flow from the moon on the water, while the palms tower high with majestic crowns.  Here we are in the very midst of real nature and yet again it unpleasantly recalls the scenery of a theatre.  It is indeed extraordinary with what accuracy scenic artists construct tropical scenes.  The surroundings tend to make one sentimental and regret that this veritable garden of Eden should be exploited to make billiard balls and rubber tyres for automobiles and bicycles.  The native also, instead of hunting elephant and hippos, eating his fill and sleeping, and eating again and sleeping again until the carcase has disappeared and then hunting again, now has to collect rubber juice and cut wood for an ugly looking steam flat.  Such however, is civilisation in the Congo.

Spoor of elephants and hippos abound and the grunt of the latter can frequently be heard, but they are not sitting up on their haunches waiting to be shot.  The clear, shrill chirp of the sentry bird is indeed warning the big beasts that something strange is moving and we shall have to lie still for a long while probably before getting a chance at the great heads as they are raised from the water.