In about half an hour we had left the tall matama and fields of water-melons, cucumbers, and manioc; and, crossing a reedy slough, were in an open forest of ebony and calabash.  In its depths are deer in plentiful numbers, and at night it is visited by the hippopotami of the Kingani for the sake of its grass.  In another hour we had emerged from the woods, and were looking down upon the broad valley of the Kingani, and a scene presented itself so utterly different from what my foolish imagination had drawn, that I felt quite relieved by the pleasing disappointment.  Here was a valley stretching four miles east and west, and about eight miles north and south, left with the richest soil to its own wild growth of grass—­which in civilization would have been a most valuable meadow for the rearing of cattle—­invested as it was by dense forests, darkening the horizon at all points of the compass, and folded in by tree-clad ridges.

At the sound of our caravan the red antelope bounded away to our right and the left, and frogs hushed their croak.  The sun shone hot, and while traversing the valley we experienced a little of its real African fervour.  About half way across we came to a sluice of stagnant water which, directly in the road of the caravan, had settled down into an oozy pond.  The pagazis crossed a hastily-constructed bridge, thrown up a long time ago by some Washensi Samaritans.  It was an extraordinary affair; rugged tree limbs resting on very unsteady forked piles, and it had evidently tested the patience of many a loaded Mnyamwezi, as it did those porters of our caravan.  Our weaker animals were unloaded, the puddle between Bagamoyo and Genera having taught us prudence.  But this did not occasion much delay; the men worked smartly under Shaw’s supervision.

The turbid Kingani, famous for its hippopotami, was reached in a short time, and we began to thread the jungle along its right bank until we were halted point-blank by a narrow sluice having an immeasurable depth of black mud.  The difficulty presented by this was very grave, though its breadth was barely eight feet; the donkeys, and least of all the horses, could not be made to traverse two poles like our biped carriers, neither could they be driven into the sluice, where they would quickly founder.  The only available way of crossing it in safety was by means of a bridge, to endure in this conservative land for generations as the handiwork of the Wasungu.  So we set to work, there being no help for it, with American axes—­the first of their kind the strokes of which ever rang in this part of the world—­to build a bridge.  Be sure it was made quickly, for where the civilized white is found, a difficulty must vanish.  The bridge was composed of six stout trees thrown across, over these were laid crosswise fifteen pack saddles, covered again with a thick layer of grass.  All the animals crossed it safely, and then for a third time that morning the process of wading was performed.