We marched eight hours through a forest, where the forest peach, or the “mbembu,” is abundant.  The tree that bears this fruit is very like a pear-tree, and is very productive.  I saw one tree, upon which I estimated there were at least six or seven bushels.  I ate numbers of the peaches on this day.  So long as this fruit can be produced, a traveller in these regions need not fear starvation.

At the base of a graceful hilly cone we found a village called Utende, the inhabitants of which were in a state of great alarm, as we suddenly appeared on the ridge above them.  Diplomacy urged me to send forward a present of one doti to the Sultan, who, however, would not accept it, because he happened to be drunk with pombe, and was therefore disposed to be insolent.  Upon being informed that he would refuse any present, unless he received four more cloths, I immediately ordered a strong boma to be constructed on the summits of a little hill, near enough to a plentiful supply of water, and quietly again packed up the present in the bale.  I occupied a strategically chosen position, as I could have swept the face of the hill, and the entire space between its base and the village of Watende.  Watchmen were kept on the look-out all night; but we were fortunately not troubled until the morning; when a delegation of the principal men came to ask if I intended to depart without having made a present to the chief.  I replied to them that I did not intend passing through any country without making friends with the chief; and if their chief would accept a good cloth from me, I would freely give it to him.  Though they demurred at the amount of the present at first, the difference between us was finally ended by my adding a fundo of red beads—­ sami-sami—­for the chief’s wife.

From the hill and ridge of Utende sloped a forest for miles and miles westerly, which was terminated by a grand and smooth-topped ridge rising 500 or 600 feet above the plain.

A four hours’ march, on the 12th of October, brought us to a nullah similar to the Gombe, which, during the wet season, flows to the Gombe River, and thence into the Malagarazi River.

A little before camping we saw a herd of nimba, or pallah; I had the good fortune to shoot one, which was a welcome addition to our fast diminishing store of dried meats, prepared in our camp on the Gombe.  By the quantity of bois de vaches, we judged buffaloes were plentiful here, as well as elephant and rhinoceros.  The feathered species were well represented by ibis, fish-eagles, pelicans, storks, cranes, several snowy spoon-bills, and flamingoes.

From the nullah, or mtoni, we proceeded to Mwaru, the principal village of the district of Mwaru, the chief of which is Ka-mirambo.  Our march lay over desolated clearings once occupied by Ka-mirambo’s people, but who were driven away by Mkasiwa some ten years ago, during his warfare against Manwa Sera.  Niongo, the brother of the latter, now waging war against Mbogo, had passed through Mwaru the day before we arrived, after being defeated by his enemy.