I look up to that higher Power to influence their minds as He has often done before.  I persuaded them to refer the matter to Casembe himself by sending a man with one of mine up to the town.  They would not consent to go on to the Chungu, as the old cropped-eared man would have been obliged to come back the distance again, he having been on the way to the Kalungosi as a sentinel of the ford.  Casembe is reasonable and fair, but his people are neither, and will do anything to mulct either strangers or their own countrymen.

30th April, 1868.—­The cold of winter has begun, and dew is deposited in great quantities, but all the streams are very high in flood, though the rains have ceased here some time.

1st May, 1868.—­At the Mandapala River.  I sent a request to Mohamad Bogharib to intercede with Casembe for me for a man to show the way to Chikumbi, who is near to Bangweolo.  I fear that I have become mixed up in the Lunda mind with Mpamari (Mohamad bin Saleh), from having gone off with him and returning ere we reached Ujiji, whither ostensibly we were bound.  I may be suspected of being in his confidence, and of forwarding his plans by coming back.  A deaf and dumb man appears among the people here, making signs exactly as I have seen such do in England, and occasionally emitting a low unmodulated guttural drawl like them.

3rd May, 1868.—­Abraham, my messenger, came back, while we were at afternoon prayers, with good news for us, but what made Cropped-ears quite chopfallen was that Casembe was quite gracious!  He did not wish me to go away, and now I am welcome back; and as soon as we hear of peace at Chikumbi’s we shall have a man to conduct us thither.  The Mazitu were reported to have made an inroad into Chikumbi’s country; and it was said that chief had fled, and Casembe had sent messengers to hear the truth.  Thanks to the Most High for His kindness and influence.

4th May, 1868.—­We leave the Mandapala.  Cropped-ears, whose name I never heard, collapsed at once on hearing the message of Casembe:  before that I never heard such a babbler, to every one passing, man or woman, he repeated the same insinuations about the English, and “Mpamari,” and the Banyamwezi,—­conspiracy—­guilt—­return a second time,—­till, like a meddling lawyer, he thought that he had really got an important case in hand!

The River Chungu we found to be from fifteen to eighteen yards broad and breast deep, with at least one hundred yards of flood, before we reached the main stream, the Mandapala.  The Chungu and the Lundi join in the country called Kimbafuma, about twelve miles from our crossing-place of Mandapala, and about west of it.  The Lundi was now breast deep too, and twelve yards broad.

On reaching Casembe’s, on the Mofwe, we found Mohamad Bogharib digging and fencing up a well to prevent his slaves being taken away by the crocodiles, as three had been eaten already.  A dog bit the leg of one of my goats so badly that I was obliged to kill it:  they are nasty curs here, without courage, and yet they sometimes bite people badly.  I met some old friends, and Mohamad Bogharib cooked a supper, and from this time forward never omitted sharing his victuals with me.