away a few feet from me, I faced round to Asmani, and ordered him to put his gun down, accompanying it with a nervous movement of my gun, pressing gently on the trigger at the same time.  Never was a man nearer his death than was Asmani during those few moments.  I was reluctant to shed his blood, and I was willing to try all possible means to avoid doing so; but if I did not succeed in cowing this ruffian, authority was at an end.  The truth was, they feared to proceed further on the road, and the only possible way of inducing them to move was by an overpowering force, and exercise of my power and will in this instance, even though he might pay the penalty of his disobedience with death.  As I was beginning to feel that Asmani had passed his last moment on earth, as he was lifting his gun to his shoulder, a form came up from behind him, and swept his gun aside with an impatient, nervous movement, and I heard Mabruki Burton say in horror-struck accents: 

“Man, how dare you point your gun, at the master?” Mabruki then threw himself at my feet, and endeavoured to kiss them and entreated me not to punish him.  “It was all over now,” he said; “there would be no more quarreling, they would all go as far as the Tanganika, without any more noise; and Inshallah!” said he, “we shall find the old Musungu * at Ujiji.”

Livingstone

“Speak, men, freedmen, shall we not?—­shall we not go to the Tanganika without any more trouble? tell the master with one voice.”

“Ay Wallah!  Ay Wallah!  Bana yango!  Hamuna manneno mgini!” which literally translated means, “Yes by God!  Yes by God! my master!  There are no other words,” said each man loudly.

“Ask the master’s pardon, man, or go thy way,” said Mabruki peremptorily, to Asmani:  which Asmani did, to the gratification of us all.

It remained for me only to extend a general pardon to all except to Bombay and Ambari, the instigators of the mutiny, which was now happily quelled.  For Bombay could have by a word, as my captain, nipped all manifestation of bad temper at the outset, had he been so disposed.  But no, Bombay was more averse to marching than the cowardliest of his fellows, not because he was cowardly, but because he loved indolence.

Again the word was given to march, and each man, with astonishing alacrity, seized his load, and filed off quickly out of sight.

While on this subject, I may as well give here a sketch of each of the principal men whose names must often appear in the following chapters.  According to rank, they consist of Bombay, Mabruki Burton, Asmani the guide, Chowpereh, Ulimengo, Khamisi, Ambari, Jumah, Ferajji the cook, Maganga the Mnyamwezi, Selim the Arab boy, and youthful Kalulu a gunbearer.