There was something in the appearance of these tall, cold, sharp-featured, white-robed men that chilled my blood, something unnatural and almost inhuman.  Here was nothing of the usual African jollity.  No one shouted, no one laughed or chattered.  No one crowded on us, trying to handle our persons or clothes.  No one appeared afraid or even astonished.  Except for a word or two they were silent, merely contemplating us in a chilling and distant fashion, as though the arrival of three white men in a country where before no white man had ever set foot were an everyday occurrence.

Moreover, our personal appearance did not seem to impress them, for they smiled faintly at Brother John’s long beard and at my stubbly hair, pointing these out to each other with their slender fingers or with the handles of their big spears.  I remarked that they never used the blade of the spear for this purpose, perhaps because they thought that we might take this for a hostile or even a warlike demonstration.  It is humiliating to have to add that the only one of our company who seemed to move them to wonder or interest was Hans.  His extremely ugly and wrinkled countenance, it was clear, did appeal to them to some extent, perhaps because they had never seen anything in the least like it before, or perhaps for another reason which the reader may guess in due course.

At any rate, I heard one of them, pointing to Hans, ask Komba whether the ape-man was our god or only our captain.  The compliment seemed to please Hans, who hitherto had never been looked on either as a god or a captain.  But the rest of us were not flattered; indeed, Mavovo was indignant, and told Hans outright that if he heard any more such talk he would beat him before these people, to show them that he was neither a captain nor a god.

“Wait till I claim to be either, O butcher of a Zulu, before you threaten to treat me thus!” ejaculated Hans, indignantly.  Then he added, with his peculiar Hottentot snigger, “Still, it is true that before all the meat is eaten (i.e. before all is done) you may think me both,” a dark saying which at the time we did not understand.

When we had landed and collected our belongings, Komba told us to follow him, and led us up a wide street that was very tidily kept and bordered on either side by the large huts whereof I have spoken.  Each of these huts stood in a fenced garden of its own, a thing I have rarely seen elsewhere in Africa.  The result of this arrangement was that although as a matter of fact it had but a comparatively small population, the area covered by Rica was very great.  The town, by the way, was not surrounded with any wall or other fortification, which showed that the inhabitants feared no attack.  The waters of the lake were their defence.

For the rest, the chief characteristic of this place was the silence that brooded there.  Apparently they kept no dogs, for none barked, and no poultry, for I never heard a cock crow in Pongo-land.  Cattle and native sheep they had in abundance, but as they did not fear any enemy, these were pastured outside the town, their milk and meat being brought in as required.  A considerable number of people were gathered to observe us, not in a crowd, but in little family groups which collected separately at the gates of the gardens.