Before we could arrange our camp and set the tents up, down poured the furious harbinger of the Masika season in torrents sufficient to damp the ardor and newborn love for East Africa I had lately manifested.  However, despite rain, we worked on until our camp was finished and the property was safely stored from weather and thieves, and we could regard with resignation the raindrops beating the soil into mud of a very tenacious kind, and forming lakelets and rivers of our camp-ground.

Towards night, the scene having reached its acme of unpleasantness, the rain ceased, and the natives poured into camp from the villages in the woods with their vendibles.  Foremost among these, as if in duty bound, came the village sultan—­lord, chief, or head—­bearing three measures of matama and half a measure of rice, of which he begged, with paternal smiles, my acceptance.  But under his smiling mask, bleared eyes, and wrinkled front was visible the soul of trickery, which was of the cunningest kind.  Responding under the same mask adopted by this knavish elder, I said, “The chief of Kingaru has called me a rich sultan.  If I am a rich sultan why comes not the chief with a rich present to me, that he might get a rich return?” Said he, with another leer of his wrinkled visage, “Kingaru is poor, there is no matama in the village.”  To which I replied that since there was no matama in the village I would pay him half a shukka, or a yard of cloth, which would be exactly equivalent to his present; that if he preferred to call his small basketful a present, I should be content to call my yard of cloth a present.  With which logic he was fain to be satisfied.

April 1st.—­To-day the Expedition suffered a loss in the death of the grey Arab horse presented by Seyd Burghash, Sultan of Zanzibar.  The night previous I had noticed that the horse was suffering.  Bearing in mind what has been so frequently asserted, namely, that no horses could live in the interior of Africa because of the tsetse, I had him opened, and the stomach, which I believed to be diseased, examined.  Besides much undigested matama and grass there were found twenty-five short, thick, white worms, sticking like leeches into the coating of the stomach, while the intestines were almost alive with the numbers of long white worms.  I was satisfied that neither man nor beast could long exist with such a mass of corrupting life within him.

In order that the dead carcase might not taint the valley, I had it buried deep in the ground, about a score of yards from the encampment.  From such a slight cause ensued a tremendous uproar from Kingaru—­chief of the village—­who, with his brother-chiefs of neighbouring villages, numbering in the aggregate two dozen wattled huts, had taken counsel upon the best means of mulcting the Musungu of a full doti or two of Merikani, and finally had arrived at the conviction that the act of burying a dead horse in their soil without “By your leave, sir,”