At the orders of the same Sheikh, the kirangozi stood up to speak before the assembled caravans.  “Words, words, from the Bana,” he shouted.  “Give ear, kirangozis!  Listen, children of Unyamwezi!  The journey is for to-morrow!  The road is crooked and bad, bad!  The jungle is there, and many Wagogo lie hidden within it!  Wagogo spear the pagazis, and cut the throats of those who carry mutumba (bales) and ushanga (beads)!  The Wagogo have been to our camp, they have seen your bales; to-night they seek the jungle:  to-morrow watch well, O Wanyamwezi!  Keep close together, lag not behind!  Kirangozis walk slow, that the weak, the sick, and the young may keep up with the strong!  Take two rests on the journey!  These are the words of the Bana (master).  Do you hear them, Wanyamwezi? (A loud shout in the affirmative from all.) Do you understand them well? (another chorus); then Bas;” having said which, the eloquent kirangozi retired into the dark night, and his straw hut.

The march to Bihawana, our next camp, was rugged and long, through a continuous jungle of gums and thorns, up steep hills and finally over a fervid plain, while the sun waxed hotter and hotter as it drew near the meridian, until it seemed to scorch all vitality from inanimate nature, while the view was one white blaze, unbearable to the pained sight, which sought relief from the glare in vain.  Several sandy watercourses, on which were impressed many a trail of elephants, were also passed on this march.  The slope of these stream-beds trended south-east and south.

In the middle of this scorching plain stood the villages of Bihawana, almost undistinguishable, from the extreme lowness of the huts, which did not reach the height of the tall bleached grass which stood smoking in the untempered heat.

Our camp was in a large boma, about a quarter of a mile from the Sultan’s tembe.  Soon after arriving at the camp, I was visited by three Wagogo, who asked me if I had seen a Mgogo on the road with a woman and child.  I was about to answer, very innocently, “Yes,” when Mabruki—­cautious and watchful always for the interests of the master—­requested me not to answer, as the Wagogo, as customary, would charge me with having done away with them, and would require their price from me.  Indignant at the imposition they were about to practise upon me, I was about to raise my whip to flog them out of the camp, when again Mabruki, with a roaring voice, bade me beware, for every blow would cost me three or four doti of cloth.  As I did not care to gratify my anger at such an expense, I was compelled to swallow my wrath, and consequently the Wagogo escaped chastisement.

We halted for one day at this place, which was a great relief to me, as I was suffering severely from intermittent fever, which lasted in this case two weeks, and entirely prevented my posting my diary in full, as was my custom every evening after a march.