This is one of the great slave-paths from the interior, others cross the Shire a little below, and some on the lake itself.  We might have released these slaves but did not know what to do with them afterwards.  On meeting men, led in slave-sticks, the Doctor had to bear the reproaches of the Makololo, who never slave, “Ay, you call us bad, but are we yellow-hearted, like these fellows—­why won’t you let us choke them?” To liberate and leave them, would have done but little good, as the people of the surrounding villages would soon have seized them, and have sold them again into slavery.  The Manganja chiefs sell their own people, for we met Ajawa and slave-dealers in several highland villages, who had certainly been encouraged to come among them for slaves.  The chiefs always seemed ashamed of the traffic, and tried to excuse themselves.  “We do not sell many, and only those who have committed crimes.”  As a rule the regular trade is supplied by the low and criminal classes, and hence the ugliness of slaves.  Others are probably sold besides criminals, as on the accusation of witchcraft.  Friendless orphans also sometimes disappear suddenly, and no one inquires what has become of them.  The temptation to sell their people is peculiarly great, as there is but little ivory on the hills, and often the chief has nothing but human flesh with which to buy foreign goods.  The Ajawa offer cloth, brass rings, pottery, and sometimes handsome young women, and agree to take the trouble of carrying off by night all those whom the chief may point out to them.  They give four yards of cotton cloth for a man, three for a woman, and two for a boy or girl, to be taken to the Portuguese at Mozambique, Iboe, and Quillimane.

The Manganja were more suspicious and less hospitable than the tribes on the Zambesi.  They were slow to believe that our object in coming into their country was really what we professed it to be.  They naturally judge us by the motives which govern themselves.  A chief in the Upper Shire Valley, whose scared looks led our men to christen him Kitlabolawa (I shall be killed), remarked that parties had come before, with as plausible a story as ours, and, after a few days, had jumped up and carried off a number of his people as slaves.  We were not allowed to enter some of the villages in the valley, nor would the inhabitants even sell us food; Zimika’s men, for instance, stood at the entrance of the euphorbia hedge, and declared we should not pass in.  We sat down under a tree close by.  A young fellow made an angry oration, dancing from side to side with his bow and poisoned arrows, and gesticulating fiercely in our faces.  He was stopped in the middle of his harangue by an old man, who ordered him to sit down, and not talk to strangers in that way; he obeyed reluctantly, scowling defiance, and thrusting out his large lips very significantly.  The women were observed leaving the village; and, suspecting that mischief might ensue,