We passed through a tract of country covered with mopane trees, where the hard baked soil refused to let the usual thick crops of grass grow; and here we came upon very many tracks of buffaloes, elephants, antelopes, and the spoor of one lion.  An ox we drove along with us, as provision for the way, was sorely bitten by the tsetse.  The effect of the bite was, as usual, quite apparent two days afterwards, in the general flaccidity of the muscles, the drooping ears, and looks of illness.  It always excited our wonder that we, who were frequently much bitten too by the same insects, felt no harm from their attacks.  Man shares the immunity of the wild animals.

Finding a few people on the evening of the 20th of August, who were supporting a wretched existence on tamarinds and mice, we ascertained that there was no hope of our being able to buy food anywhere nearer than the Lakelet Pamalombe, where the Ajawa chief, Kainka, was now living; but that plenty could be found with the Maravi female chief, Nyango.  We turned away north-westwards, and struck the stream Ribve-ribve, or Rivi-rivi, which rises in the Maravi range, and flows into the Shire.

As the Rivi-rivi came from the N.W. we continued to travel along its banks, until we came to people who had successfully defended themselves against the hordes of the Ajawa.  By employing the men of one village to go forward and explain who we were to the next, we managed to prevent the frightened inhabitants from considering us a fresh party of Ajawa, or of Portuguese slaving agents.  Here they had cultivated maize, and were willing to sell, but no persuasion could induce them to give us guides to the chieftainess, Nyango.  They evidently felt that we were not to be trusted; though, as we had to certify to our own character, our companions did not fail “to blow our own trumpet,” with blasts in which modesty was quite out of the question.  To allay suspicion, we had at last to refrain from mentioning the lady’s name.

It would be wearisome to repeat the names of the villages we passed on our way to the north-west.  One was the largest we ever saw in Africa, and quite deserted, with the usual sad sight of many skeletons lying about.  Another was called Tette.  We know three places of this name, which fact shows it to be a native word; it seems to mean a place where the water rushes over rocks.  A third village was called Chipanga (a great work), a name identical with the Shupanga of the Portuguese.  This repetition of names may indicate that the same people first took these epithets in their traditional passage from north to south.

At this season of the year the nights are still cold, and the people, having no crops to occupy their attention, do not stir out till long after the sun is up.  At other times they are off to their fields before the day dawns, and the first sound one hears is the loud talking of men and women, in which they usually indulge in the dark to scare off beasts by the sound of the human voice.  When no work is to be done, the first warning of approaching day is the hemp-smoker’s loud ringing cough.