Everything being ready on the 15th of May, we started at 2 p.m. from the village where the Makololo had dwelt.  A number of the men did not leave with the goodwill which their talk for months before had led us to anticipate; but some proceeded upon being told that they were not compelled to go unless they liked, though others altogether declined moving.  Many had taken up with slave-women, whom they assisted in hoeing, and in consuming the produce of their gardens.  Some fourteen children had been born to them; and in consequence of now having no chief to order them, or to claim their services, they thought that they were about as well off as they had been in their own country.  They knew and regretted that they could call neither wives nor children their own; the slave-owners claimed the whole; but their natural affections had been so enchained, that they clave to the domestic ties.  By a law of Portugal the baptized children of slave women are all free; by the custom of the Zambesi that law is void.  When it is referred to, the officers laugh and say, “These Lisbon-born laws are very stringent, but somehow, possibly from the heat of the climate, here they lose all their force.”  Only one woman joined our party—­the wife of a Batoka man:  she had been given to him, in consideration of his skilful dancing, by the chief, Chisaka.  A merchant sent three of his men along with us, with a present for Sekeletu, and Major Sicard also lent us three more to assist us on our return, and two Portuguese gentleman kindly gave us the loan of a couple of donkeys.  We slept four miles above Tette, and hearing that the Banyai, who levy heavy fines on the Portuguese traders, lived chiefly on the right bank, we crossed over to the left, as we could not fully trust our men.  If the Banyai had come in a threatening manner, our followers might, perhaps, from having homes behind them, have even put down their bundles and run.  Indeed, two of them at this point made up their minds to go no further, and turned back to Tette.  Another, Monga, a Batoka, was much perplexed, and could not make out what course to pursue, as he had, three years previously, wounded Kanyata, the headman, with a spear.  This is a capital offence among the Makololo, and he was afraid of being put to death for it on his return.  He tried, in vain, to console himself with the facts that he had neither father, mother, sisters, nor brothers to mourn for him, and that he could die but once.  He was good, and would go up to the stars to Yesu, and therefore did not care for death.  In spite, however, of these reflections, he was much cast down, until Kanyata assured him that he would never mention his misdeed to the chief; indeed, he had never even mentioned it to the Doctor, which he would assuredly have done had it lain heavy on his heart.  We were right glad of Monga’s company, for he was a merry good-tempered fellow, and his lithe manly figure had always been in the front in danger; and, from being left-handed, had been easily recognized in the fight with elephants.