Chapter X: A Trip to Taveita

Throughout this period of anxiety, so monotonously related in the last chapter, I had held to one fixed resolve, to quit Moši when Kiongwe returned. Mandara’s hostility had nothing to do with it. I never looked upon _that_ as any real obstacle in my path. It was rather that Mandara, whether friendly or otherwise, was comparatively powerless to aid me in my ascent of the higher regions of Kilima-njaro, just as he would have been powerless to prevent it had I established myself with his enemies. The upper road to the snow-peaks lay in the hands of the hostile league of Kibôšo, Kirua, and Maraṅu, who blockaded the western, northern, and eastern frontiers of Moši. All Mandara’s power lay to the south. He was intimately allied with the Masai of Kisongo and Aruša, and they aided him in keeping open his southern border. This very fact, however, had to enter into my calculations. Mandara was very potent with the Masai; they paid him constant consultative visits. On one occasion, when he was in a good humour, he sent for me and introduced me to his robber allies, telling them he wished that they should see my face, and know it as one of his greatest friends, who must never be assaulted.

In all my rambles to and fro between Moši and Taveita, though I might be unaccompanied by more than half a dozen men, I was never interfered with by the Masai, whereas I used constantly to hear of their attacking other caravans; and whenever they did so, Mandara was generally in collusion. Consequently I knew that if I attempted to quit his kingdom against his will or without his leave, he had but to signal to the Masai, and they would effectually bring me to ruin.

Another difficulty I had to deal with was the question of my baggage. I had fifty-eight loads stored at Moši, and ten porters. Kiongwe would be coming from the coast with some sixty carriers, but they would nearly all of them bring burthens; consequently on their arrival in Moši I should be unable to carry off the loads already stored there. The only solution would be to stop the new caravan at Taveita, leave ten men there with the fresh supply of goods, and let the rest come on empty-handed to Moši. Then I could take leave of Mandara somehow, and carry off all my loads, whereas, if I departed from Moši leaving property behind, and then made friends with Mandara’s enemies, he would probably seize my belongings in revenge for this act of faithlessness.

How could we let Kiongwe know of my change of intentions? If I sent a messenger to Taveita, Mandara’s spies would be sure to report what was taking place, and set him on the scent of my little plot. The only plan was to go myself to Taveita, because then I could more easily explain my intentions to Kiongwe. According to our calculations he should be due there about the 22nd of August at the latest; so I determined to leave Kitimbiriu on the 18th. Mandara’s consent was obtained, and besides sending two of his soldiers with me, he accorded his protection to my settlement during my absence. Here, though I only left one man in charge, I felt perfectly confident in Mandara’s rectitude. Strange combination of qualities, both good and bad, was the nature of Moši’s sovereign! While he could see no harm in bullying, frightening, worrying his guest into yielding up his goods, yet he would never _take_ anything by force, although he had merely to stretch out his hand to do so.

I looked forward to my Taveita trip as the prisoner does to his quitting gaol, or as a pent-up toiler in towns must to his annual holiday in the country. Every effort I had recently made to wander beyond the borders of Moši up the mountain had been resolutely prevented by the Wa-Kibôšo; in fact, on the 11th of August we nearly lost our lives in an ambush. Every flower I gathered in the debatable ground was snatched with trepidation and a wary look all round, and I feared to fire my gun at any bird lest it should attract the attention of my hidden foes. Consequently the idea of leaving Moši on the south and going for a holiday trip to Taveita was full of pleasant possibilities, and proved as interesting in reality as in anticipation. Leaving Kitimbiriu on the 18th, my eight porters and I walked gaily down the path up which we had toiled, some nine or ten weeks before, on our entry into Moši. By noon we had reached the pretty little Mkuyuni river, associated with several of our adventures. Here the lions had besieged us, and here Kiongwe had taken refuge from the savages. Now I found its banks peaceful and deserted, although we had just missed a large troop of elephants, who must have crossed in the morning. Many bristles from their tails still hung in the bushes, dragged out, I suppose, as they switched them to and fro. As we were to lunch here I left the part of the stream where the elephants had trampled the banks and sullied the water, and crept through the bushes to a charming secluded bend of the rivulet, where, seated in deepest shade, I could gaze at a vista of sunlit vegetation beyond.

Fig. 45.—The Mkuyuni Stream.
]

Having rested here, we marched on to the Mto wa Habari, another old camping-place (see Chapter IV.), and the next morning entered the glorious forests of Taveita. Here we found the Swahili town a mere waste and open place strewn with ashes. The Wataveita had burnt it down, according to their habit, when the caravan season was over and the traders had gone. This is their invariable custom, for which they give various reasons, the real one being probably that they do not wish the coast people to gain a permanent footing there. As far as I was concerned, they welcomed me with enthusiastic delight, and reminded me of my promise to build a house in their midst. I told them I had on the present occasion only come for a few days, to await my caravan, but that I wanted a large piece of ground in a secluded part of their territory where I might ultimately make a “town,” in which to store my goods. They led me to a beautiful site, close to where Thomson had built when he sojourned there on his way to Masai-land. Not a vestige of his habitation remained other than the oral tradition of its situation. Possibly, of the fine little colony I started there may be little to see now, for although I bought the land I could not promise to occupy it, and the absentee system is not in favour at Taveita.

This place, from the day of my first arrival up to the time of my final departure, seemed to me one of the loveliest spots on the earth’s surface. Imagine first a charming river of crystal clearness winding in curves and loops through tropical forest of such an imposing grandeur that it rather recalls to one’s imagination the vegetation of some more lusty epoch of the earth’s youth than the present degenerate days of less exuberant growth. The river flows sometimes between high banks—little cliffs of red soil—crested with gigantic trees, whose enormous roots, detached from the crumbling earth, stretch out like grey, sprawling fingers high in air above the rushing water; sometimes curls itself wantonly in loops, cutting out sweet little peninsulas of forest-clad mounds and hillocks, on which one longs to go and build a little hut and live for ever; sometimes flows solemnly and slowly with glassy look amid winding avenues of palms, acacias, albizzias, sterculias, parinariums, sycamores, and wild bananas, through the stately architecture of a vegetable Venice.

Here are places where the river broadens out into shallows, and the banks slope down in turfy lawns or stretches of sparkling sand to the water’s edge; there you may emerge from your bath on natural quays of smooth and polished stone, most grateful to the naked feet that shrink from gritty pebbles or thorny, prickly, tangled weeds.

The River Lumi, which flows through Taveita and creates all its luxuriant forest, is uninhabited by noxious creatures, such as crocodiles or leeches, and only harbours harmless fish, that are good to eat, or great timid varanus lizards, who never interfere with one’s bathing. Its water is exquisitely cool, clear, and sweet, and comes from the snows of Kilima-njaro.

Here and there amid the lofty aisles of the Taveitan forest are little clearings, pretty homesteads of yellow beehive huts, neat plots of cultivated ground, groves of emerald-green bananas, which are the habitations of the happy Arcadians who have made this tropical paradise their home. They were once miserable refugees who sought asylum and concealment in the impenetrable forest which even now girds their colony with a belt of closely growing trunks and thickly inter-knitted mesh of creeping stems. In this leafy labyrinth they were screened from the outside world they dreaded—from the cruel pursuits of the raiding Masai. On the few occasions when these robbers have tried to penetrate the maze of forest, the Taveitans, knowing its turns and windings better than the dwellers in the open, have gained a fierce victory over their assailants. Now they dwell in safety, and their little republic is the favourite resort of not only the coast traders, who leave their wives here when they enter the dangerous Masai country, but of all the hunted, homeless fugitives from Čaga, from Taita, and from Ukambani. Though there is thus great intermixture of race, the original language of the Wa-taveita holds its ground and is the general tongue of the community. Swahili is known to most of the inhabitants, who mix a great deal with the coast traders, and Masai is also spoken and understood, because the Masai who once harried the Wa-taveita so cruelly, now come peacefully to trade, exchanging their ivory, oxen, and asses for vegetable food, for trade goods, and for honey—of which the Taveita people obtain great quantities from their bees. Moreover, there is a fairly large colony of about two or three thousand agricultural Masai (called Wa-kwavi by the coast people) settled at Kikoro, a southern extension of Taveita. This is a most interesting locality for a student of African races to settle in. It resembles Stanley Pool on the Congo, Dondo on the Quanza, Khartūm on the Nile, and such like emporiums of trade; a rendezvous of tribes, tongues, peoples, and nations. You may sit here in the porch of your comfortable thatched house, which may be built in a few days from the materials at hand, and receive visits from representatives of most of the nations found in East Central Africa. Arabs, Gallas, Masai, A-kamba, Wa-čaga, Wa-pare, Wa-taita, Wa-gweno, Wa-swahili, Wa-sambara; the people of Kavisondo on the Victoria Nyanza, of Bu-ganda, and Bu-nyoro; of Njemps, and Samburu, all find their way to Taveita somehow, whether as slaves, traders, tramps, criminals, or refugees. You may hear about twenty African languages talked around you, and, by searching among the slave caravans which stop here for repose, a list of hundreds of East African tongues might be composed.

Yet, though it is so hospitable to all comers, there is no lack of law and order. Taveita is ruled over by a senate of notables called the “Wazēē,” or elders. These functionaries, though usually in the background, generally come forward when there is any dispute to be settled either between their fellow-citizens or foreign traders, and their authority is upheld by all the able-bodied male population of Taveita. It was from them that I obtained my cession of land, and after the fee was handed over and the agreement ratified, I had no more bother and no more asking for presents. At all times their gentle behaviour and kindly manners were charming.

Although the settlement of Taveita contains in all perhaps some 6000 of every nationality, they are scattered so widely over the domain that one lot of huts is scarcely in view of another. Each family lives apart. At night, strange to say, lions, leopards, and hyenas parade the forest alleys, without check or hindrance. The hyenas dig up the newly-buried corpses and discuss them with horrid laughs, just outside the doors of the surviving relatives, who never intervene. The natives shut up their live-stock in houses similar to their own, and consequently do not lose many by the leopards; but I, being ignorant of the rapacity of these brutes, lost at one time several sheep and goats, for the leopards would leap high palisades and jump back again, carrying away their victim. I set a trap, and killed one in the act, and another was shot by the men. Night after night lions would roar and bellow, seemingly just a few yards from our enclosure. Yet, though I have heard of losses in live-stock, I never was told that any human being fell a victim to these carnivora, though from the number of slaves tied together and allowed to sleep in the bush, outside the camps, I should think such a disaster not uncommon.

Taveita is full of monkeys. They are to be seen in nearly every big tree, and chatter and mow at you from the branches. Great baboons are plentiful a little farther from the dwellings, on the borders of the forest. Many big varanus lizards, sometimes reaching six feet in length, frequent the forest near the river.

Food in Taveita is moderately plentiful and reasonable in price, though not so very cheap as in Čaga. Fish, both from the River Lumi and from Lake ǰipé, is good and plentiful. Bananas are of fine quality, but dear. Corn and vegetables are also relatively expensive and scarce.

One great treat for the visitor to Taveita during the months of June, July, and August are the ostrich eggs which are brought in from the outside country, where ostriches abound. In September and October these are over, and the natives bring you instead young ostriches which they have captured—bristly little creatures with scale-tipped plumes—and sell them for an ell of cloth each (about twopence in value).

Finding Kiongwe did not arrive, after five or six days’ waiting, I returned once more to Moši. Both my departure from Taveita and my arrival at Kitimbiriu were signalized by many kind acts on the part of my black friends. As we wound our way through the tortuous paths of the Taveitan forest, our acquaintances rushed from their homesteads to inquire the cause of our departure. “You are not going to leave us, Muzungu?” they cried; “promise you will return.” “Yes, I promise,” was my reply; then they pressed on my acceptance fowls, goats, bananas, and gourds of new milk for the journey. Again, when we arrived at Kitimbiriu, Mandara sent a messenger with many “salaams” and congratulations, and a little “kitowéo” or “relish” for my breakfast, in the shape of two big goats. The Čaga people of the vicinity all came to shake hands, although I had only been absent a week. One man was so delighted to see me (it was my milkman, and I daresay he had missed my custom), that he spat[22] repeatedly at the sun to thank the Almighty for my safe return. However, rather to Mandara’s disappointment—for now that we were friends he wanted me to sit and gossip all day—I returned, to Taveita again on the 28th of August, as much in the interests of natural history as anything, because failing an ascent of the mountain, there was no better hunting-ground than the Taveitan forests, especially for birds.

The pleasure of returning to this most interesting place was a little clouded by finding Kiongwe still not arrived, although he was nearly a fortnight overdue; but knowing that nothing comes in Africa from useless worrying, I settled down to pleasant work, resolved to resign myself to the inevitable dilatoriness of a Swahili caravan. As soon as it was known that we had returned, many friends came with offerings of milk, fowls, bananas, and fish. One man, a great stately savage, innocently naked, and a type of perfect physical development, wanted me to visit him at his house, so I went thither with my Indian servant. Round his little compound was a kind of fence formed of the long midribs of the Mwale palm laid lengthways. There were three houses inside, one for the women, one for the goats and sheep, and one for the man. His dwelling, though small, was far from uncomfortable, and the interior was remarkable for the neatness that characterizes the domestic arrangements of most Africans. There was a raised daïs for the bed, on which skins were laid; a little three-cornered stool to sit on; afire burning in the centre of the floor; spears, knives, horns of animals, and many other articles ranged to dry round the walls. At the man’s earnest request we partook of sour milk and sugar-cane. He also wished us to try some rather dirty half-fried fish, but this I was obliged to decline. Whilst I sat talking to him, his wife, a motherly-looking soul, appeared, leading a small, rather unhealthy child, and was further followed by a genial old hag, my friend’s mother. This latter was a merry, social old body, though very monkey-like as she sat and chewed sugar-cane, holding it before her with both hands, and gnawing it laterally with her teeth, while the farther end of the cane was clutched between her lean thighs. My host caught his child to him with unmistakable parental affection. He carefully pinched and pressed the great protruded stomach, as if divining this to be an unhealthy symptom. Seeing he was anxious and wishing to say something kind, I offered to send medicine, which in the Swahili tongue is expressed by an Arab word “dawa.” But he only replied, “Dawa, what do we know of dawa?” Then he looked up to the sky in quite a simple way and said, “Perhaps Muungu will cure him? who knows?—the other one died.” “Then you had another child?” I asked. “Yes,” he said, “but Muungu took it.” He looked again at his child, and seeing its eyes were flecked with mucus he cleaned them with great sucking kisses. At length I rose, and said in a roundabout way I had better be going. He put the child from him with a sigh, and rose and followed me to my camp, carrying a present of bananas.

About this time numbers of Wa-taita from the districts of Bura were flocking to the vicinity of Taveita in search of subsistence. A terrible famine raged throughout the countries bordering on the Zanzibar littoral in the year 1884. Many—far more than we can calculate—died of starvation, multitudes sold themselves and their children into willing slavery, not caring where they went or how they worked, provided only they were fed. This scarcity of food had not affected those happy regions lying within the beneficent influence of the great Snow Mountain. Here the gentle showers condensed around the lofty peaks never failed, and consequently the fruitful soil produced its due supply of crops. Food could scarcely have been cheaper anywhere in the world than in Čaga, where a man might live comfortably on the expenditure of twopence-worth of cloth a day. But in Taveita, where only sufficient land was cultivated to supply the wants of the residents, provisions were already becoming relatively dear, owing to the unprecedented demand from the influx of coast people, who were afraid of penetrating the mysterious wilds of Čaga. The Wa-taita who had arrived in Taveita, seeking food, were consequently hard put to it at first to find a subsistence, and many of them had taken to hunting the big game in the vicinity of the forest country. They went out all night and concealed themselves in the branches of trees overhanging the well-known drinking-places of the animals. Thence they discharged their arrows and lances into the body of a buffalo or rhinoceros. The wounded animal was long in dying, and sometimes lions intervened and carried him off. Sometimes the Wa-taita kept up a running fight, as it were, till the late morning, harassing the wounded quarry with their dog-like pursuit until it fell exhausted with loss of blood and fatigue. Then they threw themselves on its dead body, skinned it, cut it up, had a glorious feast on the half-cooked flesh, which they grilled on hot stones in hastily made fires, and brought the remainder into Taveita to sell or exchange for vegetable food.

Fig. 46.—Vultarine attitudes.
]

Some of these gentry offered to take me one day to a good place in which to shoot game. Soon after dawn I went, under their guidance, first through the belt of magnificent forest which engirdles Taveita, and then emerged on a tract of country similar in aspect to all the dry, bushy plains in Africa. Footprints of game began to show themselves, nearly always, however, in beaten tracks and runs converging towards the distant river. The spoor of rhinoceros, buffalo, zebra, giraffe, warthog, lion, and many antelopes was distinctly visible, and on the leafless trees great vultures perched in somnolent satiety. So heavy were they with their recent meal, and so evidently unused to man, that I was able to approach as close as I pleased to them, and very much disgusted the Taita guides by taking out my sketch-book to draw some of their attitudes, which I did with as much ease as if I had been studying them in a cage at Regent’s Park. Unfortunately, I am more of an artist than a sportsman. In many a spot the fragments of bones and the trodden herbage, together with the surrounding footprints, showed that a lion had recently feasted off his prey. In one such place I saw, to my great surprise, a human being slinking away as I approached. I called out to my guides to know who that was, and they explained to me that certain hungry creatures—human hyenas—unable to procure the death of any wild animals for themselves, followed the lions wherever they went; and when the king of beasts had killed his prey, slaked his appetite, and walked off to drink, they intervened and carried off the remains of his bloody repast. “And does the lion never return and kill them?” I asked. “Will a gorged vulture fly, or a full lion attack a man?” they replied contemptuously. In spite of all this evidence as to the abundance of big game, I actually saw but little, for the morning was now advanced, and the animals had retreated from the hot sun into dense cover. I might, perhaps, have had better sport had I behaved more like a sportsman; but I would tramp along unconcernedly and chatter to my guides, consequently I often heard a warning whistle and snort from the antelopes we were tracking, and they were off before I could fire. I managed, however, to bring down a Mpala[23] antelope, and I wounded a warthog, but he got away in the dense bush. I killed some francolin and pigeon with my shot-gun, and at any rate the commissariat did not suffer from my morning’s outing. I found the meat of the Mpala very dry and unpalatable, but it was enjoyed by my men and the Wa-taita.

Hearing so constantly from these people of the fine sport to be got at night (we had a moon about this time) and at earliest dawn, I resolved to go and live for a day or two in the wilderness outside Taveita, so that I might be on the spot, and not fatigue myself with a long preliminary tramp to the scene of operations.

Fig. 47.—The Mpala Antelope (_Æpyceros Melampus_).
]

We followed the course of the River Lumi—_our_ river as we affectionately called it—in a northerly direction, for about three miles. We had quitted the great forest in which Taveita is built, and except for the band of noble trees through which the river flowed, there were only low scattered bushes covering the plain. This was emphatically _the_ game country of Africa, and wherever you find this kind of landscape, no matter in what part of the tropical continent, you may be sure it is inhabited by the big African herbivora. We pitched the tent in a snug little corner by the river-side, a kind of peninsula surrounded on three sides by the water, and secured from outward view by bushes and trees. I spent most of the day roaming about with a gun, but only killed a zebra (_Equus Chapmani_), which had, however, a very handsome hide. A great deal of game was visible from the summit of the little cone, rising on the left bank of the river, but it was evidently very wary, owing to the recent inroads of Taita and Kamba hunters.

It was at night, however, that I hoped to bring down a good bag, by concealing myself at the river-side, and shooting the animals as they came to drink. The banks of the Lumi were, as already mentioned, clothed with a narrow band of dense forest. Here and there gaps had been formed in the dense array of trees, and through these the thirsty, animals had made a broad way down to the water. The ground would be pounded into red dust, all turf or vegetation destroyed, and even the tree-trunks on either side of the tunnel—for such it was through the dense wood—polished up to a certain height by the passage of crowds of great hustling beasts. Such a place as this, there was no mistaking. That it had been recently frequented we could tell by the abundance of fresh exuviæ strewing the entrance; moreover, here were bones, skulls, horns, and other fragments of the lions’ repasts, which, however thoroughly they might have been picked by hyenas, vultures, and ants, still to the practised eyes of our guides showed by their condition that some few hours ago they formed part of living individuals.

THE GAME COUNTRY.

To face page 220.
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Here I resolved, therefore, to conceal myself after dark, with my gun and plenty of ammunition, and my imagination pictured with delight scenes after the fashion of Gordon Cummings’s tales. The best mode of lying in ambush was much disputed. I at first was in favour of making a kind of “skarm,” a low pit just deep enough to hold my body, with a fringe of thorny branches round it as a cover. But this, for various reasons, did not meet with the approval of my men. Firstly, we found, on digging just below the soil, that water filtered into the pit, which would render it disagreeable to stand or sit in; and, secondly, it was my guide’s opinion that wounded or angry beasts might just walk in on top of me. Consequently we adopted the notion of the Wa-taita, which on the whole was best, namely, to construct a platform between the branches of the trees overhanging the “run,” about ten feet above it.

This was carried out toward the end of the afternoon, and in the evening, having comfortably dined and taken my coffee in camp, I took leave of my men, and was hoisted up on to the platform, together with an 8-bore elephant-gun, a bag of ammunition, a rug, matches, a bull’s-eye lantern, and a flask of cold coffee. Two Wa-taita mounted neighbouring trees, settled down in the forked branches, and we were left to commence our night vigil. My camp was only a quarter of a mile distant, and I was quite safe from any wild beasts except leopards or snakes, neither of which were likely to attack me.

Surely, I thought to myself, there could be no pleasanter way of shooting big game than this. Instead of tramping miles and miles through thorns and over sharp rocks, under a blazing sun, in search of a vigilant quarry, here you await him in numbers, seated at your ease, in the cool night air, able to take careful aim, and safe from any nasty display of spite on the part of your wounded victims. Undoubtedly my opinion was the right one from an epicurean point of view, provided that all the elements of the combination were present; but just as the best place in a theatre would be worthless in front of an empty stage, so all my elaborate preparations for a grand battue of big game were of little use when the expected animals did not arrive.

Slowly the night wore on. The moon, just past her prime, rose late, and changed gradually from a coppery red to a yellow white as she mounted higher and higher, bringing by degrees a lesser day to bear upon the scene. Gazing out from under the branches to the open plain, I could distinguish ghostly forms, devoid of colour and substantiality, flitting here and there, objectless and restless—hyenas, probably, seeking stray fragments of carrion. Now and then the singing, monotonous chorus of the cicadas and tree-frogs was momentarily interrupted and again resumed, or varied by the shrill chanting of a soloist, or temporarily overborne by the faint, distant booming of a lion’s roar; otherwise nothing interrupted the solemn quietude of the night.

Half sitting, half reclining on my tree-perch, my limbs soon stiffened with the unchanged posture, and I grew chilly with inaction. The night breeze blowing over the snows of Kilima-njaro sent tremors of cold through my body; I sought a more comfortable position, and a better arrangement of my rug. In doing so a slight creaking and rustling of the boughs was caused, and I was startled to hear from the other side of the water a sudden outbreak of strange, half-human cries—screams, barks, and guttural murmurs. Looking in that direction I was able to make out a small party of baboons, who had come down to drink, and evidently mistook the stealthy noises I had made for the approach of their relentless enemy, the leopard. Though they peered uneasily into the gloom, and did not turn at once to run, I would not shoot, because I did not wish to frighten more important game that might be approaching; and, moreover, because, except for scientific purposes, I think it is so sad to kill a monkey. To see a baboon in its death-throes causes me almost as much pain as if he were a member of my own species.

However, my forbearance was not duly rewarded. A few small things, probably civets, cats, or jackals, crept noiselessly to the waterside and drank uneasily, but I held my hand, deeming it mockery to blow them to fragments with an elephant’s bullet. Here and there in the open a large form seemed to hesitate about passing through the tunnel where I was concealed, and I always waited, unwilling to risk an uncertain aim and a distant shot for the hope of certain slaughter when they should defile past my lair. But they came not, and disappeared into the outer gloom. What _was_ the reason? I asked myself. They could not see me behind my screen of boughs, and I sat long in noiseless immobility. The fact that they divined the presence of a human being by scent never entered my head, and I forgot that the wind blew from me towards them, and carried to their powers of smell sufficient evidence to deter them from approaching any nearer a suspicious spot. Yet I knew that this drinking-place had been much frequented the previous night, and I could now hear a mingled chorus of animal cries from distant bends of the river, showing that the thirsty creatures of the wilds had come to satisfy their thirst. I consulted in a whisper with, the Taita hunters as to the advisability of leaving our perch and seeking game on foot, but they were strongly averse to this procedure, and persisted in saying, “Wait, and they will surely come.” But they surely did not, and as soon as the first promise of dawn irradiated the sky I indignantly left my platform and wandered out into the dewy plains, seeking a victim. A giddy zebra, browsing on the sodden turf, stopped behind his friends to stare at me, and received a bullet from the mighty 8-bore, which soon laid him low. I also killed a female roan antelope, and so returned less discontented to my camp than I might otherwise have felt at my uneventful night, for at any rate here was abundant meat for the men.

Fig. 49.—Female Roan Antelope (_Hippotragus Equinus_, ♀︎).
]

At the end of the succeeding day my sporting picnic was interrupted by the arrival of messengers from Mandara, who bore a strongly worded communication in writing, to the effect that I was to return at once to Moši, as Mandara had some important news to communicate. Wondering who among the chiefs followers had suddenly attained epistolary skill, and grumbling at the somewhat dictatorial tone of the command, I nevertheless deemed it advisable to comply, the more so as Kiongwe’s inexplicable absence made me averse to risking a loss of Mandara’s friendship. I left behind two trusted followers, Abdallah and Kadu Stanley, in my Taveita settlement, with the fullest instructions as to their procedure in case Kiongwe came during my absence, and then once more quitting my favourite place of sojourn, I turned my steps towards Moši with an anxious heart.

Arrived at Mandara’s court, however, an unexpectedly pleasant reception awaited me. It appeared that a large Swahili caravan had reached Moši during my absence in Taveita, and its leader happened to be a trader of some position on the coast. He had seen me in Zanzibar the day I went to visit the Sultan with Sir John Kirk, and consequently conceived an exaggerated, but useful opinion as to my relative importance in the scale of humanity. He questioned Mandara as to my welfare and whereabouts with an _empressement_ and evident interest which did much to endue that chieftain with a loftier opinion as to the social position of his guest. Finding his Swahili friend was a scholar, he resolved to set at rest his last doubts in the authenticity of my statements, and accordingly brought out the two letters of Sir John Kirk which I had presented as an introduction, and asked to have them read. When their contents were made known to him he was seized with compunction and apprehension at the way in which he had previously thwarted my mission. A passage in Sir John Kirk’s long communication to the effect that he hoped Mandara would aid me to the utmost in ascending Kilima-njaro awoke the chief to a sense of his neglected duty.

Fig. 50.—My Settlement at Taveita.
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Without further delay I must be recalled from Taveita and sent up the mountain before the failure of my mission could be reported to the Baloza. Accordingly, messengers were despatched at once to Taveita, and as soon as I had obeyed their summons and presented myself at my tyrant’s court, Mandara hastened to describe the elucidation of his doubts which had taken place, and assured me now of his sincere wish to render me help and counsel. “Did I wish to ascend the great mountain? I should go to-morrow, that very next day, and climb as far as I chose, even to the white ‘salt’ which covered the top. He would send guides and soldiers to accompany me.” I was at first too surprised at this change of demeanour to realize the happy change in my prospects, but when Mandara kept repeating, as he patted my hand encouragingly, “To-morrow, you shall go to-morrow,” it began to dawn on me that it was a serious proposal, and I accepted eagerly and began to discuss the details of the expedition. Nine of my own men would be taken and six soldiers of Mandara’s to act as guides. “You had better not defer your journey,” said the chief, “lest the Wa-kibôšo get wind of it and intercept you.” It was arranged I should not be absent more than a week, and that the guides should receive four yards of cloth each, to buy food for their sojourn on the chilly heights. Mandara presented me with a couple of goats as a contribution towards our commissariat, and took leave of me with continued wishes for my success and a sincere hope of my safe return. I repaired to my settlement, full of joyful anticipation, commenced packing, and slaughtered a bullock, so that every one might have a good preliminary feast before entering on the anxious journey of the morrow. Mandara’s six men, one of whom was Kilaki, an old friend and constant frequenter of my “town,” came to receive their “cloth” and their instructions. I adjured them not to keep me waiting on the morrow, and then sent them off that they might have time to bid their families farewell and make their investments in food. When preparation had been made, and everything packed save the necessaries of our civilized existence, which might be thrust into the bags before starting, I retired to rest, but slept little, so feverishly anxious was I to commence my first ascent of Kilima-njaro.