Further eastward, going towards the country of the Yalimbongo tribe, they found the Okanda River, which they make the southern fork, the Okono being the northern, descending from the mountains; here food was plentiful compared with Okota-land.  The active volcano reported by Mr. R. B. N. Walker, 1873, was found to bear a lake upon the summit—­which, in plutonic formations, would suggest an extinct crater.  East of the Yalimbongo they came upon the Apingis, whom M. du Chaillu, after two visits, also placed upon the southern fork of the Ogobe.  The tribe is described as small in stature, of mild habits, and fond of commerce; hence their plantations on the north or right bank of the river are plundered with impunity by the truculent “Oshieba” (Moshebo or Moshobo?).  Further east the river, after being obstructed by rapids, broadens to a mile and becomes navigable—­ they were probably above the “Ghats.”  It is supposed to arise south in a lakelet called Tem or N’dua.  A Bakele village was seen near Ochunga, a large riverine island; and thence they passed into the country of the mountaineer Okandas.  They are described as fine men, but terrible sorcerers; their plantations of banana and maize are often plundered by the “Oshieba,” the latter being now recognized as a kindred tribe of the Pahouin (Fan).

Chapter VI.

Village Life in Pongo-land.

The next day was perforce a halt.  Forteune and his wives did not appear till 9 A.M., when it was dead low water.  I had lent Nimrod a double-barrelled gun during the march, and he was evidently anxious to found a claim upon the protracted usufruct.  “Dashes” also had to be settled, and loads made up.  The two women to whose unvarying kindness all my comfort had been owing, were made happy with satin-stripe, cassis, and the inevitable nicotiana.  In an unguarded moment my soft heart was betrayed into giving a bottle of absinthe to the large old person who claimed to be Forteune’s mamma.  Expecting nothing, had nothing been offered she would not have complained; the present acted upon her violently and deleteriously; she was like the cabman who makes mauvais sang because he has asked and received only twice his fare; briefly, next morning she was too surly to bid us adieu.

When giving Forteune his “dash,” I was curious to hear how he could explain the report about the dead gorilla shot the night before last:  the truth of the old saying, “a black man is never fast for an excuse,” was at once illustrated; the beast had been badly wounded, but it had dragged itself off to die.  And where was the blood?  The rain had washed the blood away!

Nimrod seemed chagrined at the poor end of so much trouble, but there was something in his look and voice suggesting a suppressed thought—­these people, like the English and the Somal, show their innermost secrets in their faces.  At last, I asked him if he was now willing to try the Shekyani country.  He answered flatly, “No!” And why?