“What do you say, Mabruki?”

“Ah, master, dear master; it is very hard, and these people are great robbers.  I would like to chop their heads off, all; so I would.  But you had better pay.  This is the last time; and what are one hundred cloths to you?”

“Well, then, Bombay and Asmani, go to Mionvu, and offer him twenty.  If he will not take twenty, give him thirty.  If he refuses thirty, give him forty; then go up to eighty, slowly.  Make plenty of talk; not one doti more.  I swear to you I will shoot Mionvu if he demands more than eighty.  Go, and remember to be wise.”

I will cut the matter short.  At 9 P.M. sixty-four doti were handed over to Mionvu, for the King of Uhha; six doti for himself, and five doti for his sub; altogether seventy-five doti—­ a bale and a quarter!  No sooner had we paid than they began to fight amongst themselves over the booty, and I was in hopes that the factions would proceed to battle, that I might have good excuse for leaving them, and plunging south to the jungle that I believed existed there, by which means, under its friendly cover, we might strike west.  But no, it was only a verbose war, which portended nothing more than a noisy clamor.

November 6th.—­At dawn we were on the road, very silent and sad.  Our stock of cloth was much diminished; we had nine bales left, sufficient to have taken us to the Atlantic Ocean—­aided by the beads, which were yet untouched—­if we practised economy.  If I met many more like Mionvu I had not enough to take me to Ujiji, and, though we were said to be so near, Livingstone seemed to me to be just as far as ever.

We crossed the Pombwe, and then struck across a slowly-undulating plain rising gradually to mountains on our right, and on our left sinking towards the valley of the Malagarazi, which river was about twenty miles away.  Villages rose to our view everywhere.  Food was cheap, milk was plentiful, and the butter good.

After a four hours’ march, we crossed the Kanengi River, and entered the boma of Kahirigi, inhabited by several Watusi and Wahha.  Here, we were told, lived the King of Uhha’s brother.  This announcement was anything but welcome, and I began to suspect I had fallen into another hornets’ nest.  We had not rested two hours before two Wangwana entered my tent, who were slaves of Thani bin Abdullah, our dandified friend of Unyanyembe.  These men came, on the part of the king’s brother, to claim the honga !  The king’s brother, demanded thirty doti!  Half a bale!  Merciful Providence!  What shall I do?

We had been told by Mionvu that the honga of Uhha was settled—­and now here is another demand from the King’s brother!  It is the second time the lie has been told, and we have twice been deceived.  We shall be deceived no more.

These two men informed us there were five