Abraham, one of the Nassick boys, came up and said he had been sent by the sepoys, who declared they would come no further.  It was with the utmost difficulty they had come so far, or that the havildar had forced them on, they would not obey him—­would not get up in the mornings to march; lay in the paths, and gave their pouches and muskets to the natives to carry:  they make themselves utterly useless.  The black buffalo is dead; one camel ditto, and one mule left behind ill.  Were I not aware of the existence of the tsetse, I should say they died from sheer bad treatment and hard work.

I sent a note to be read to the sepoys stating that I had seen their disobedience, unwillingness, and skulking, and as soon as I received the havildar’s formal evidence, I would send them back.  I regretted parting with the havildar only.

A leopard came a little after dark while the moon was shining, and took away a little dog from among us; it is said to have taken off a person a few days ago.

22nd May, 1866.—­The men returned with but little food in return for much cloth.  Matumora is very friendly, but he has nothing to give save a little green sorghum, and that he brings daily.

A south wind blows strongly every afternoon.  The rains ceased about the middle of May, and the temperature is lowered.  A few heavy night showers closed the rainy season.

23rd—­24th May, 1866.—­I took some Lunar observations.

25th May, 1866.—­Matumora is not Ndonde.  A chief to the south-west of this owns that name and belongs to the Matumbwe tribe.

26th May, 1866.—­I sent Musa westwards to buy food, and he returned on the evening of 27th without success; he found an Arab slave-dealer waiting in the path, who had bought up all the provisions.  About 11 P.M. we saw two men pass our door with two women in a chain; one man carried fire in front, the one behind, a musket.  Matumora admits that his people sell each other.

27th May, 1866.—­The havildar and Abraham came up.  Havildar says that all I said in my note was true, and when it was read to the sepoys they bewailed their folly, he adds that if they were all sent away disgraced, no one would be to blame but themselves.  He brought them to Hassane’s, but they were useless, though they begged to be kept on:  I may give them another trial, but at present they are a sad incumbrance.  South-west of this the Manganja begin; but if one went by them, there is a space beyond in the south-west without people.

The country due west of this is described by all to be so mountainous and beset by Mazitu, that there is no possibility of passing that way.  I must therefore make my way to the middle of the Lake, cross over, and then take up my line of 1863.