Swelling the numbers of our caravans there was a whole troop of women and female slaves, and a crowd of negro lads who followed the soldiers to carry their equipments. There was in addition a large herd of cattle which the Ghattas party had plundered from the Dinka, and which they drove with them to maintain themselves when they came to enter upon the desolation of the desert. Aboo Sammat, never rich in cattle, because he did not, in the same way as his neighbours, indulge in plundering the Dinka, had certainly made no superfluous provision for the needs of his people; but for myself there was an abundant supply of calves, sheep, and goats still remaining from the liberal presents that had been made me in Mvolo during my excursion to the Rohl. Whenever an animal was killed, I invariably shared the meat with the Nubians, and they were always ready to return the favour as often as they slaughtered any of their own. My people’s necessities were thus supplied, whilst personally I was continually provided by Aboo Sammat with the choicest morsels as long as there was any choice to be made. But where property fails, even Cæsar must forego his rights; and days of scarcity did arrive, when for my servants there was nothing, and for myself there was next to nothing, to be had.

It will readily be imagined that for a colony of nearly 800 people a start in single file was not effected in a moment: it was quite midday before I commenced any movement at all. Several days had to elapse, and no little patience had to be tried, before things fell into anything like regularity. Of all men in the world, perhaps the Nubians are the most disorderly. Method is altogether alien to their nature; they loathe it after the unshackled freedom they are accustomed to indulge; they have no idea of any advantages arising from mutual co-operation, and accordingly they look upon any approach to order only as a token of individual bondage.

Amongst a body of men actuated by such sentiments, any thought of discipline, according to our ideas, is entirely out of the question. Only that master can at all hope to succeed in exercising any authority who understands how to get upon the weak side of their character. By this means he may perchance attain what he wants in a way which a Turk, even by the extremest severity, could never accomplish. He may prevail, for instance, by slipping in at the right time an allusion to brotherhood, or by an appeal to honour and to the value of one’s word; or he may invoke the religious sentiment by reminding the Nubian of his being a Mohammedan, “Thou art a Moslem;” or again, by holding out a bribe, such as a fresh slave or a good payment, he may reduce a cantankerous spirit to subjection; but whatever is done has to be effected craftily and with a good deal of insinuation and gentle coaxing. No one understood all these artifices better than Aboo Sammat, who was utterly regardless of all consequences and could behave like a perfect tyrant as soon as ever he had established a control. On account of my own position amongst the Nubians I had to renounce most of these little artifices, but, nevertheless, I had my own special resources. A piece of wit, brought to bear at the right place and at the right time, very seldom failed to be of essential service. Although a capacity for appreciating wit must in a way be considered local and limited in its compass, yet it hardly admits of dispute that there is no nation of the world entirely without its sense of humour. The botanist Fortune, who made his laborious investigations in China, has left it upon record that he only succeeded by mother-wit in gaining access to a people which had previously resisted every effort towards the least familiar intercourse with them. A faculty of bantering a little may be of considerable service to assist the progress of a traveller; and I may, perhaps, be allowed to relate what follows as an instance of the mode in which I attempted to proceed, and the example, perchance, may give a trifling hint to those who may be disposed to follow in my wake.

I will assume that there was going to be some contention or other between me and my people, as, for instance, that I had determined to go to some particular mountain, and they held it as utterly useless to go and camp in a desert while they had the chance of staying and enjoying their merissa among their friends. Very rarely in Egypt do people exchange a few words with one another without introducing the term “ya Sheikh” as a mode of allocution. Even a father talking to his son of a few years old will address him as “ya Sheikh.” In Nubia the habit is not quite so general, but is common enough to be familiar and to be entirely understood. Now, one of my people had once taken umbrage at the word being addressed to him, and in ill-tempered pique he had repudiated the term, saying “Don’t sheikh me; I am no sheikh.” I thought to myself that he should hear of this again; and hear of it again he did.

Some weeks elapsed, and by chance an occasion arose when we were discussing about a certain mountain, whether it were too far off or too high for us to ascend. One of my party was arguing and trying to satisfy the other, who was our cantankerous friend of old, and happened to begin one of his appeals to him by saying “ya Sheikh.” This was my chance; so I cried out, “O don’t sheikh him. Twice he has himself told me that he is no sheikh; he is a lout. If he were a sheikh, he would go with us to the mountain; but, because he is a lout, he likes to stay behind and sip his beer.” A general laugh of applause followed my little sally, and the joke was hailed with a round of derision against the captious booby. This trifling circumstance, perhaps, may illustrate the mode of dealing which appeared to answer best, and I hope needs no excuse for the length at which it is related.

Delay upon delay prevented our making a start, and Nubian-like we consumed the day in getting ready. When the caravan did issue from the Seriba, it proceeded, according to the usage of the country, under the conduct of a banner carried ahead. The armed force was portioned out in three divisions, each of which had its own flag. Aboo Sammat’s banner was like the Turks’; it had the crescent and the star upon a red ground: Ghattas, although he was a Christian, displayed the same symbol of Islam, only red upon a white ground. At the start, two captains, Ahmed and Badry, were put in charge. Of these I had already made the acquaintance of the latter, during my excursion to the Rohl. Aboo Sammat himself, as I have mentioned, had arranged, with the third corps, to join the caravan somewhat later.

At the outset of any expedition, whether it be a movement to the river, a raid upon the cattle of the Dinka, or an excursion to the Niam-niam, it is deemed an indispensable preliminary that a sheep should be offered in sacrifice at the entrance of the Seriba. When this has been accomplished, the procession is prepared to start, and the standard-bearer lowers his flag over the victim, so that the border of it may just touch the blood, and afterwards there is the usual muttering of prayers. In truth, the banner of Islam is a banner of blood. Bloodthirsty are the verses which are inscribed upon its white texture; a very garland of cruel fanaticism and stern intolerance is woven in the sentences from the Koran which, in the name of the merciful God, declare war against all who deny the faith that there is one God and that Mohammed is his prophet, and which assert that his enemies shall perish from the face of the earth.

The sun was already in the zenith when we found our way to the arid steppes; the heat was scorching, but I enjoyed having my dogs about me, barking for joy at their liberation from the confinement of the Seriba. Very memorable to me is still that day on which I took this first decisive step towards the attainment of my cherished hopes. I thought of that moonlight night as I left Khartoom, when upon the glassy mirror of the White Nile I had kept my vigil of excited interest, and now here I was making a still more decisive movement and entering upon a still more important section of my enterprise. Now, there was nothing to obstruct me from penetrating to the heart of Africa far as my feet could carry me; now, as Mohammed said, I could advance to the “world’s end,” and he would convey me on till even I should acknowledge that we had gone far enough. But unfortunately my vision of hope was doomed to be dispelled. Just at the moment when curiosity was strained to its highest expectation, at the very time when scientific ardour was kindled to go on into the very depths of the mysterious interior, we were compelled to return. Had we only been enabled to prosecute our journey as far again towards the south, I do not entertain a doubt but that I should have been in a condition to solve the problem of the sources of those three great rivers of the west, the Benwe, the Ogowai, and the Congo.

Upon the first day’s march we only proceeded a few miles and camped out beside the little stream Tudyee, of which the deeply-hollowed bed was divided into two separate arms. In one of these arms a languid current was passing on, but in the other, which was perfectly dry, I took my repose for the remainder of the day, under the shade of a grateful shrubbery which overhung its recesses. The revelry of a camp life was not wanting; meat in abundance was boiled, roasted, and broiled, and the festivity extended far into the night. As is ever the case on the first encampment, the proximity to the settlements with their ample provisions enables it to assume the aspect of a picnic.

The most valuable portion of my luggage was conveyed in twelve small portmanteaus, carefully covered with hides: the remnant was carried in chests and baskets. The rolls of paper were wrapped in sheets of calico, which I had well soaked in fresh caoutchouc. I continued to experience the great comfort of having my baggage conveyed by hand, so that I had access at any stage of our progress to whatever I required. It was hardly necessary to keep anything under lock and key, for nothing could be stolen that would not at once betray the thief. Everything was therefore open, and consequently very little time comparatively was lost in preparing for the daily start. There was only one thing to be guarded against, and that was the propensity of the bearers to turn the packages upside down. It was necessary in this particular to be always jogging the memory of the Bongo, who would reply “mawah,” (I hear) and so everything would go safely along, over sloughs and brooks and marshes, and across the steppes reeking with dew, wherever the leader might desire.

Anxious to reach the village of the Bongo sheikh Ngoly, we made a prolonged march on the next day. Proceeding through the most southerly of the districts occupied by the Bongo, we kept still in the region that belonged to Aboo Sammat. An hour or more before sunrise, as is usual with these caravans, a general réveil was sounded by drums and trumpets, and a meal was made on the remains of the previous night’s feast, as no halt was to be allowed for breakfast. A collection of plants, however, has to be carefully handled, and while my people were strapping up the packages, and the bearers and soldiers were forming their line, I found a quiet half-hour to prepare myself a cup of tea, and to arrange all my little matters for travelling. For the European traveller no article of apparel is better adapted than an old-fashioned waistcoat, with as many pockets as possible, into which a watch, a compass, a note-book, a tinder-box with some matches, and other articles of continual use may be stowed. A coat of any sort, however light, becomes a burden upon a walking expedition; about the arms it always uncomfortably obstructs the perspiration. A strong felt hat with a broad brim is the best protection for the head; it is preferable to the Turkish cap, but on account of the intense power of the rays of the sun it cannot be worn immediately next the head. It cannot have anything below it better than the red fez, which never requires to be taken off; when rest is taken under the shade of some spreading tree, it is quite sufficient to remove merely the felt hat.

The march was through a pleasant park-like country, and after crossing a considerable number of fordable rivulets, we arrived about midday at the huts of Ngoly. At Ngoly, over a surface of about eight square miles, we found various groves of the Terminalia macroptera, having very much the look of a wood of European oaks. In these regions any continuance of a single species of tree or plant is very rare, and the bush-forests are generally remarkable for the great diversity of species which is found on a limited area. The Terminalia is to be classed amongst that small number of trees of which regular groves, in what we call forests, rise to the view. It grows, as may readily be observed, upon the gentle depressions of a soil sufficiently rich, but which is yet too dry for the formation of the tall grass of the steppes, being watered only by currents which are formed during the rains, and of which we crossed the remnants during the dry months of winter. Between lat. 5° and 3° N., in the longitude under which we were travelling, the equatorial zone of the continual rainfall decidedly suffers an interruption, and the zenith altitudes of the sun cannot be said to bear a due proportion to the largest annual fall of rain.

The forests of the Terminalia are remarkable for the general deficiency of undergrowth or bushwood which they exhibit, a circumstance that arises from the general inability of woody plants to endure so moist a soil. The large proportion of the trees and shrubs of the country thrive much better in the rocky regions of the ironstone, and if ever a grove establishes itself where the ground is wet, it soon gets as clear of undergrowth as though all had been taken away by the hand of man, and ere long it assumes quite a northern aspect.

The landscape in Africa presents to a large extent examples of trees which only cast off their foliage fitfully. In contrast to these, the Terminalia annually throws off all its leaves as soon as the rains are over, and throughout our winter months it is perfectly bare. It grows to a height of about thirty or forty feet, and by its deeply-scored black bark and the general character of its ramifications, it may be said to be not unlike the glutinous alder of the north.

I passed the afternoon in a charming wood chasing the hartebeests (Antilope caama) which were abundant everywhere over this attractive hunting-ground. Their leather-coloured coats stood out in glaring contrast to the dark tree-stems; but the lack of underwood left our extensive encampment so thoroughly exposed, that the animals took alarm betimes, and were difficult to reach. Accordingly after an hour’s fatigue, I had to content myself (as would happen again and again) with a number of guinea-fowl, which were a never-failing and never-palling contribution to our cuisine. On all my hunting excursions I invariably found myself accompanied by a regular troop of people who made the chase a matter of great difficulty, but who nevertheless considered their services indispensable. My own three negroes carried the portfolios for the plants, and my rifles; but from the bearers there was always a swarm of volunteers who came to act as pointers, prompted to their extra exertions, partly from a desire to get the lion’s share of what might fall, and partly from that irrepressible love of hunting which seemed indigenous to their very nature.

As a matter of botanical interest I observed the frequency with which the wild Phœnix occurs in the low district all around Ngoly. Most probably this is the parent-stock of the date-palm; the time in which its fruit is here ripe is the month of July.

Up betimes on the morning of our third day’s march, I took my place at the front of our caravan, close behind the standard-bearer, in the hope of getting near enough to secure a shot at some hartebeest that might be taken by surprise. In the woods the animals could be seen in numbers as great as on the previous evening; they skulked behind the black stems of the trees, keeping a vigilant look-out, but as soon as anyone attempted to leave the procession and approach them, off they were with a bound, and scampering away in a zigzag career, regained the wilderness.

For a full hour the way proceeded through the wood, and then we entered a low-lying steppe which brought us to the running water of the little river Teh or Tee. As we approached we saw a herd of buffaloes betake themselves to flight, and, snorting and brandishing their tails, dash into the stream; these brutes, however, are here as elsewhere quite easily surprised by an adept. Flowing rather rapidly, the Teh is between twenty and thirty feet in breadth, and passes along wooded banks which gave me my first introduction to the flora of the Niam-niam. The botanical treasures of this district, I may venture perhaps to call the “bank or gallery flora,” in contradistinction to that extensive class of vegetation which predominates over the wide steppes around. Large Scitamineæ contribute an essential feature, and there is an Oncoba which bears upon its leafless wood blossoms that are conspicuous for their numerous stamens. This Oncoba is here found in its most northerly abode, but its growth is wide-spread as far as Benguela.

Unfortunately there was little leisure for me to enjoy this attractive entrée to the flora of the land. We had to hurry on, and passed quickly into a region where the tall unburnt grass made the route indistinguishable to all but an expert, and where it was impossible to see more than a few paces in advance.

By perseverance we reached a bare and extensive rocky plain developing itself into the depression of a valley along which the stream of the Mongolongboh cuts its winding path. The rock is all composed of red ironstone, very frequently of that coarse and large-grained quality which is technically known as roe-stone. These flats of red rock are common all through the districts south of the great alluvial territory of the Dinka which is watered by the Gazelle and its various tributaries. They are often, for leagues together, level as the surface of a table, scarcely ever revealing a rift, and very rarely worn away into hollows. When, however, any of these depressions are found, they are always sure to be full of most interesting specimens of a periodic vegetation.

Our next halting-place was elope by the water-side under the shade of some noble trees, in which a merry troop of monkeys were frisking. As we arrived before midday, I had an opportunity of taking a ramble in the neighbourhood. For some miles round, the region was entirely uninhabited, and the utmost desolation prevailed. None of the traces of any previous occupation could be seen—​none, I mean, of the peculiar weeds which will survive where there has been any cultivation; everywhere there was only bushwood and steppe, except just in the spots where the stone flats were on the surface or where the ground rose into hills, enclosing the valley along which the Mongolongboh wound its course. There was a fine panorama of the vale from the top of the hills, and many a group of antelopes enlivened the general stillness of the scene. My attention was arrested by a plant which was new to me and characteristic of the region; this was the little Protea, which occasionally formed complete hedges, bearing a resemblance to the class of vegetation which is found in the south of Africa, but which is very rarely met with in any northern portion of the continent.

Ahmed, the temporary leader of our caravan, had made arrangements to start again immediately after noon, at the same time announcing that we could not expect to be able to reach any place supplied with water at which we could pass the next night. This statement was quite contrary to the declaration of those who knew the way, and on the following day was refuted. Ahmed, however, persisted in his opinion, and, in his own Nubian fashion, said that he was ready to be pronounced a liar by any one who could disprove the truth of what he said. Wranglings of this sort went on day after day, and occasioned me some disquietude and misgiving.

A gathering storm compelled us to put forth all our energies, by way of precaution, to protect the baggage. The dark clouds rolled towards us, and the encampment was all bustle and alarm. By good chance, however, the storm passed on over our heads, and we had only a few heavy drops of rain. Since the end of last November this was the first day on which any rain at all had fallen. As often as we were threatened with wet, and time did not permit us to erect our tent, I made my baggage as secure as I could, by piling wood and layers of stone upon it, and covering the whole with great sheets of waterproof twill.

Long before sunrise on the 1st of February we had quitted our encampment, hastening our movements through a fear, which was altogether groundless, of there being a deficiency of water. Encompassed by hills, we marched along rising ground, and by the time that the morning light had dawned, we found ourselves at an elevation of about 500 feet above the valley of the Mongolongboh, and with a prospect open before us towards the south, much more extensive than we had hitherto enjoyed. The ridges of hills ran from east to west, and the peaks right and left of the path by which we were proceeding were called by our leaders Mbala Ngeea. Looking to the south we could see a thickly-wooded vale several miles across, and beyond this were two terraces diverging towards the west, which were made conspicuous by the contrast in their colour. The dark blue ridges which were more remote in the S.S.W. were pointed out as the district of Nganye, and the residence of the first Niam-niam chief whom we should have to visit. Before us in the valley there was visible the low ground of the Lehssy, which, in the lower part of its course, is called Doggoroo by the Bongo; whilst only separated from the Lehssy by a range of little hills, there was still beyond the broad and fertile valley watered by the Upper Tondy, which here receives the name of the Ibba. Among the Bongo its name is simply Bah, i.e. the river, just as the local population of Baghirmi call the Shary, a further evidence of the relationship which exists between the people.

We now descended from the heights and arrived at the Mah, of which the flat bed caused a number of broad pools of water to obstruct our way. This was the water that gave the lie to Ahmed’s statement. Along undulating terraces we next reached a wood, which consisted for the most part of wide stretches of kobbo-trees (Humboldtia), which gave a light but welcome shadiness to our path. The height attained by these Cæsalpineæ is generally about forty feet. They are to be admired for their fine feathery foliage, and for the size of the seed-vessels which hang from the boughs. During the drought of the winter season, when the herbage was short, or had altogether perished through the burning of the steppes, they sent out young sprouts graceful as the main stem itself, which were a charming ornament to the woods. The colour of the tender leaves sported from a bright moss-green to the richest purple, each leaflet being not less than two feet long. The magnitude of the leaves gives a peculiar feature to the woods, which flourish freely on the upper terraces of the district, the steppes in the depressed vale around being marshy and quite destitute of trees.

Making a fresh ascent, we passed upon our left one of those insulated elevations of gneiss which are so frequent in these regions, and which, as they lie scattered and weather-beaten over the plain, have all the indication of being the remains of some upheaving of the hills above the general level of the ferruginous swamp-ore around. The shape which these islands of gneiss most generally assume is that of a spherically-arched mound, here about 200 feet in height; and of this I saw some thirty examples in different parts during the course of my wanderings. A group of stately hartebeests was parading upon the summit, and surveyed from the distance of half a league the progress of our caravan as it wound its way along the bushy paths. By midday we had reached the Lehssy, and camped upon a flat of gneiss which the waters at their height had washed. At the present season of the year the stream pursued its course beneath the soil, but it had left a considerable number of water-pools, some of them a hundred paces long, and from forty to fifty feet wide, which, overhung as they were by shading bushwood, abounded in fish, especially barbel. By means of small shot I was able to secure a good many of these; and in a country like this where an agricultural life necessitates a residence remote from the river-plains, and where fresh fish is with difficulty preserved on account of the heat, such a catch is invaluable; it is welcomed as a dainty, and makes a most desirable change in the wearisome routine of the daily diet.

The splendid Afzelia-trees which overshadowed the Lehssy gave an additional charm to this halting-place, which was abundantly supplied with water that was as bright as it was refreshing. The level surface of the gneiss answered the double purpose of couches on which to sleep and tables on which to eat. Upon the shadowy banks one of the Anonaceæ, the Hexalobus, grows extensively, exhibiting its long tufted flowers, and breathing forth its pungent vanilla-like aroma; the petals, in colour and appearance, resemble little fragments of tape-worm, and are quite unlike any other known plant.

Continually was the repose of night again broken by the incessant chattering or singing of the Nubians, who ever chose the night-time for their hilarity, and in consequence were all day long as sleepy and lazy as they could be. All at once, when everyone was asleep, they would start up, and as a freak fire a feu de joie, startling the nocturnal silence by the whistling of their balls. Even the negroes did not sleep around their fires undisturbed. Under cover of the night every one took care to look after his own individual needs, and to enjoy the morsels that he had contrived to gather in the day-time; and many a tit-bit carefully concealed from the eyes of others all the day, was secretly consumed by the hungry fellows in the dead of night.

On the following morning I was one of the hindmost of the caravan, and proceeded in the company of Ahmed, our guide, and a few stragglers. We had passed two or three watercourses, overhung with copse wood and now quite dry, when we came upon a Mittoo bearer, exhausted by his journey, lying by the wayside. He was a poor withered, consumptive creature, and seemed as if he were pretty near his last gasp. The other bearers had taken his burden from him, and, conscious that he could not carry it farther, had spoken a few cheering words and left him to his fate. By a fair day’s walking it was just possible he might regain his home, provided he could keep clear of the prowling lions on his way; but lions, it is known, have a remarkable scent for a poor lone and helpless man. Let a poor fellow be sick or wounded, and he incurs a double danger. Meanwhile, the people who were with me were all discussing the matter in their own way; they could not agree whether the poor wretch were really ill, or whether he was making pretence, and not a few of them declared that no sooner would he have the chance than he would be off homewards as nimbly as a hare. Ahmed at this point put in his word, and observed that a day’s journey farther in advance, the man would never have ventured upon being left behind by his company, for fear of finding his way to the caldrons of the Niam-niam. This observation of his immediately turned the conversation to the subject of the cannibalism of that people, of which I was far from being convinced.

I mentioned that Piaggia had resided a whole year among the Niam-niam without witnessing a single instance of the practice. Ahmed replied that Piaggia had only visited the district of Tombo, where the people were nothing like so bad as they were here in the east, and he asserted that I should only have to wait for a few days before proof strong enough would be opened to my eyes. He went so far as to declare, nay, he swore hard and fast, that he knew a case in which some bearers, who had died from fatigue on the way, had been buried, and that in the interval of his going and returning, their graves had been reopened. Naturally I objected to this statement, that only the day before he had branded himself as a liar, and that consequently his word deserved no confidence; he persisted, however, in his affirmation, and went on to argue that it was not possible that it was any beast that had disturbed the graves; stones had been removed to get at the corpses that they wanted. “Yes,” he added, “and I have myself seen them eat foul flesh,—​vile, stinking, putrid flesh;” and as he spoke he made grimaces so horrid, that they had every sign of being the expression of a sincere abhorrence. Poor Ahmed! I can think I see him still upon those rocks, expressing his emotion by the gestures of his hands. I can even now hear the vehemence of his oaths. Poor Ahmed I as though he were to be the very first of victims to his own belief, within a few weeks he fell in a mêlée, his body could not be found on the scene of conflict, and where should it by any possibility have gone, except into the stomachs of the Niam-niam?

Farther onwards our progress was very much impeded by the high masses of dry grass which had escaped destruction when the steppes were burned. In the path, which is a mere narrow rift in the steppes, made by those in front forcing themselves through, grass-stems abound so hard and firm, that they are as unyielding as the stubble of a sorghum-field, and make a most disagreeable obstruction in the way. The chain of hills over which we had crossed the day before constitutes the present boundary between the hunting-grounds of the Bongo and the Niam-niam. Indications, however, are not wanting that until a few years ago, the country quite up to the base of the hills had been occupied by the Niam-niam; at present the first district of this people is reached at the farther bank of the Ibba. As we continued our march, we observed a number of half-burnt posts belonging to their huts, and every here and there amidst the grass, there were the remnants of the great wooden drums, which never fail in any village of this people.

At noon we arrived at the Ibba, as I have said the Upper Tondy here is named. About a hundred feet in breadth, but only three feet deep, it offers no difficulty in the way of being forded. The water was running from east to west at the rate of sixty feet a minute, and many blocks of gneiss were lying in the river-bed, which was bounded by gradually ascending banks. I found some deep water beneath a line of overhanging trees, and thoroughly enjoyed a refreshing bath; it was my mishap, however, to experience an inconvenience which occurred to me again more than once in the course of my travels. Half-an-hour I had to wait for my clothes, which had been carried off by the mistake of one of my servants, and taken to the caravan. In my position it was impossible to avoid the heat of the sun, and the skin of an European is too sensitive to endure without mischief a temperature which at the very least was 80° Fahr. in the shade, the ordinary heat of the district in a locality well shaded, but quite open to the influence of the wind.

Upon the southern side of the river were the first cultivated lands of the Niam-niam that we had yet seen, and which at that time were lying fallow. Shortly afterwards the ground suddenly rose for some hundred feet. The universal Sorghum is here the prevailing crop, but farther on it is in a very large degree replaced by Eleusine.

We next found ourselves upon the territory of a tolerably rich chieftain, named Nganye, who was on very friendly terms with Aboo Sammat. Meanwhile, for the first mile or two after we left the river, we observed that all the inhabitants vacated their abodes. The name of the superintendent of the district was Peneeo. In all regions like this, where the greater fear happened to be on the side of the natives, the same behaviour was repeated, and very often was accommodating to both parties. In these cases the people with their wives and children, their dogs and poultry, their guitars, their baskets, their pots and pans, and all their household articles, make off to the thickest parts of the steppes, which have been spared from the fire and reserved for elephant hunting; there they hide themselves in an obscurity which only the eye of a bird could penetrate. It will not rarely happen that they are betrayed simply by the cackling of their fowls.