We arrived at the Rugufu River—­not the Ukawendi Rugufu, but the northern stream of that name, a tributary of the Malagarazi.  It was a broad shallow stream, and sluggish, with an almost imperceptible flow south-west.  While we halted in the deep shade afforded by a dense clump of jungle, close to the right bank, resting awhile before continuing our journey.  I distinctly heard a sound as of distant thunder in the west.  Upon asking if it were thunder, I was told it was Kabogo.

 “Kabogo? what is that?”

“It is a great mountain on the other side of the Tanganika, full of deep holes, into which the water rolls; and when there is wind on the Tanganika, there is a sound like mvuha (thunder).  Many boats have been lost there, and it is a custom with Arabs and natives to throw cloth—­Merikani and Kaniki—­and especially white (Merikani) beads, to appease the mulungu (god) of the lake.  Those who throw beads generally get past without trouble, but those who do not throw beads into the lake get lost, and are drowned.  Oh, it is a dreadful place!” This story was told me by the ever-smiling guide Asmani, and was corroborated by other former mariners of the lake whom I had with me.

At the least, this place where we halted for dinner, on the banks of the Rugufu River, is eighteen and a half hours, or forty-six miles, from Ujiji; and, as Kabogo is said to be near Uguhha, it must be over sixty miles from Ujiji; therefore the sound of the thundering surf, which is said to roll into the caves of Kabogo, was heard by us at a distance of over one hundred miles away from them.

Continuing our journey for three hours longer, through thin forests, over extensive beds of primitive rock, among fields of large boulders thickly strewn about, passing by numerous herds of buffalo, giraffe, and zebra, over a quaking quagmire which resembled peat, we arrived at the small stream of Sunuzzi, to a camping place only a mile removed from a large settlement of Wahha.  But we were buried in the depths of a great forest—­no road was in the vicinity, no noise was made, deep silence was preserved; nor were fires lit.  We might therefore rest tranquilly secure, certain that we should not be disturbed.  To-morrow morning the kirangozi has promised we shall be out of Uhha, and if we travel on to Niamtaga, in Ukaranga, the same day, the next day would see us in Ujiji.

 Patience, my soul!  A few hours more, then the end of all this
 will be known!  I shall be face to face with that “white man with
 the white hairs on his face, whoever he is!”