people, with a far more intelligent cast of features, and a shade
lighter than the Wakami and Wakwere--a people who are full of traditions
of race, a people who have boldly rushed to war upon the slightest
encroachment upon their territories, and who have bravely defended
themselves against the Waseguhha and Wakami, as well as against nomadic
marauders from Uhumba.

"Udoe, in appearance, is amongst the most picturesque countries between
the sea and Unyanyembe. Great cones shoot upward above the everlasting
forest, tipped by the light, fleecy clouds, through which the warm,
glowing sun darts its rays, bathing the whole in sunlight, which brings
out those globes of foliage, which rise in tier after tier to the
summits of the hills, colors which would mock the most ambitious
painter's efforts at imitation. Udoe first evokes the traveler's love of
natural beauty after leaving the sea, her roads lead him up along the
sharp spines of hilly ridges, whence he may look down upon the
forest-clad slopes, declining on either side of him into the depths of
deep valleys, to rise up beyond into aspiring cones which kiss the sky,
or into a high ridge with deep, concentric folds, which almost tempt one
to undergo much labor in exploring them for the provoking air of mystery
in which they seem to be enwrapped.

"What a tale this tribe could relate of the slave-trader's deeds.
Attacked by the joint forces of the Waseguhha from the west and north,
and the slave-traders of Whinde and Sa'adani from the east, the Wadoe
have seen their wives and little ones carried into slavery a hundred
times, and district after district taken from their country, and
attached to Useguhha. For the people of Useguhha were hired to attack
their neighbors, the Wadoe, by the Whinde slave-traders, and were also
armed with muskets and supplied with ammunition by them, to effect large
and repeated captures of Wadoe slaves. The people of this tribe,
especially women and children, so superior in physique and intelligence
to the servile races by which they were surrounded, were eagerly sought
for as concubines and domestics by the lustful Mohammedans.

"This tribe we first note to have distinctive tribal marks--by a line of
punctures extending lengthwise on each side of the face, and a chipping
of the two inner sides of the two middle teeth of the upper row.

"The arms of this tribe are similar to the arms of the Wakami and
Wakwere, and consist of a bow and arrows, a shield, a couple of light
spears or assegais, a long knife, a handy little battle-axe and a club
with a large knob at the end of it, which latter is dexterously swung at
the head of an enemy, inflicting a stunning and sometimes a fatal blow.

"Emerging from the forest of Mikeseh, we enter the territory of the
Waseguhha, or Wasegura, as the Arabs wrongly call this country. Useguhha
extends over two degrees in length, and its greatest breadth is ninety
geographical miles. It has two main divisions, that of Southern
Useguhha, from Uruguini to the Wiami River, and Northern Useguhha, under
the chieftain Moto, from the Wiami River to Umagassi and Usumbara.

"Mostly all the Waseguhha warriors are armed with muskets, and the Arabs
supply them with enough ammunition, in return for which they attack
Waruguru, Wadoe and Wakwenni, to obtain slaves for the Arab market, and
it is but five years since the Waseguhha organized a successful raid
into the very heart of the Wasagara Mountains, during which they
desolated the populated part of the Makata plain, capturing over five
hundred valuable slaves.

"Formerly wars in this country were caused by blood feuds between
different chiefs; they are now encouraged by the slave buyers of the
Mirma, for the purpose of supplying these human chattels for the market
of Zanzibar. The Waseguhha are about the most thorough believers in
witchcraft, yet the professors of this dark science fare badly at their
hands. It is a very common sight to see cinereous piles on the roadside,
and the waving garments suspended to the branches of trees above them,
which mark the fate of the unfortunate 'Waganga' or medicine man. So
long as their predictions prove correct and have a happy culmination,
these professors of 'uchawi'--magic art--are regarded with favor by the
people; but if an unusual calamity overtakes a family, and they can
swear that it is the result of the magician's art, a quorum of
relentless inquisition is soon formed, and a like fate to that which
overtook the 'witches' in the dark days of New England surely awaits
him.

[Illustration: EXECUTION FOR WITCHCRAFT.

Sometimes performed by burning; at other times by beheadal and casting
into the river.]

"Enough dead wood is soon found in their African forests, and the
unhappy one perishes by fire, and, as a warning to all false professors
of the art, his loin-cloth is hung up to a tree above the spot where he
met his doom.

"In Southern Usagara, the people are most amiable; but in the north, in
those districts adjacent to the Wahumba, the people partake of the
ferocious character of their fierce neighbors. Repeated attacks from the
Waseguhha kidnappers, from the Wadirigo or Wahehe robbers on the
southwest, from Wagogo on the west and from Wahumba on the north, have
caused them to regard strangers with suspicion; but after a short
acquaintance they prove to be a frank, amiable and brave people. Indeed,
they have good cause to be distrustful of the Arabs and the Wangwana of
Zanzibar. Mbumi, Eastern Usagara, has been twice burned down, within a
few years, by the Arabian Waseguhha kidnappers; Rehemeko has met the
same fate, and it was not many years ago since Abdullah bin Nasib
carried fire and sword from Misonghi to Mpwapwa. Kanyaparu, lord of the
hills around Chunyo, Kunyo, once cultivated one-fourth of the Marenga,
Mkali; but is now restricted to the hill-tops, from fear of the Wadirigo
marauders.

"The Wasagara, male and female, tattoo the forehead, bosom and arms.
Besides inserting the neck of a gourd in each ear--which carries his
little store of 'tumbac' or tobacco, and lime, which he has obtained by
burning land shells--he carries quite a number of primitive ornaments
around his neck, such as two or three snowy cowrie-shells, carved
pieces of wood, or a small goat's horn, or some medicine consecrated by
the medicine man of the tribe, a fund of red or white beads, or two or
three pieced Lungomazzi egg-beads, or a string of copper coins, and
sometimes small brass chains, like a cheap Jack watch-chain. These
things they have either made themselves or purchased from Arab traders
for chickens or goats. The children all go naked; youths wear a goat or
sheep-skin; grown men and women, blessed with progeny, wear domestic or
a loin-cloth of Kaniki, or a barsati, which is a favorite colored cloth
in Usagara; chiefs wear caps such as are worn by the Wamrima Diwans, or
the Arab tarboosh.

"Next on our line of march, appears the Wagogo, a powerful race,
inhabiting the region west of Usagara to Uyanzi, which is about eighty
miles in breadth and about one hundred in length.

"The traveler has to exercise great prudence, discretion and judgment in
his dealings with them. Here he first heard the word 'houga' after
passing Limbomwenni, a word which signifies tribute, though it formerly
meant a present to a friend. Since it is exacted from him with threats,
that if it is not paid they will make war on him, its best
interpretation would be, 'forcibly extorted tribute or toll.'

"Naturally, if the traveler desires to be mulcted of a large sum, he
will find the Wagogo ready to receive every shred of cloth he gives
them. Moumi will demand sixty cloths, and will wonder at his own
magnanimity in asking such a small number of cloths from a great Musungu
(white man). The traveler, however, will be wise if he permits his chief
men to deal with them, after enjoining them to be careful, and not
commit themselves too hastily to any number or amount of gifts.

"They are, physically and intellectually, the best of the races between
Unyamwezi and the sea. Their color is a rich dark brown. There is
something in their frontal aspect which is almost leonine. Their faces
are broad and intelligent. Their eyes are large and round. Their noses
are flat, and their mouths are very large; but their lips, though thick,
are not so monstrously thick as those our exaggerated ideal of a negro
has. For all this, though the Wagogo is a ferocious man, capable of
proceeding to any length upon the slightest temptation, he is an
attractive figure to the white traveler. He is proud of his chief, proud
of his country, sterile and unlovable though it be; he is proud of
himself, his prowess, his weapons and his belongings; he is vain,
terribly egotistic, a bully, and a tyrant, yet the Wagogo is capable of
forming friendships, and of exerting himself for friendship's sake. One
grand vice in his character, which places him in a hostile light to
travelers, is his exceeding avarice and greed for riches; and if the
traveler suffers by this, he is not likely to be amiably disposed toward
him.

"This sturdy native, with his rich complexion, his lion front, his
menacing aspect, bullying nature, haughty, proud and quarrelsome, is a
mere child with a man who will devote himself to the study of his
nature, and not offend his vanity. He is easily angered, and his
curiosity is easily aroused. A traveler with an angular disposition is
sure to quarrel with him--but, in the presence of this rude child of
nature, especially when he is so powerful, it is to his advantage and
personal safety to soften those angles of his own nature. The Wagogo
'Rob Roy' is on his native ground, and has a decided advantage over the
white foreigner. He is not brave, but he is at least conscious of the
traveler's weakness, and he is disposed to take advantage of it, but is
prevented from committing an act because it is to his advantage to keep
the peace. Any violence to a traveler would close the road; caravans
would seek other ways, and the chiefs would be deprived of much of their
revenues.

[Illustration: AFRICAN WARRIORS.

The shields and assegais are flourished in the air while the demon-like
warriors dance and yell in preparation for battle.]

"The Wagogo warrior carries as his weapons a bow and a sheaf of
murderous-looking arrows, pointed, pronged and barbed; a couple of
light, beautifully-made assegais; a broad, sword-like spear, with a
blade over two feet long; a battle-axe, and a rungu or knob-club. He has
also a shield, painted with designs in black and white, oval-shaped,
sometimes of rhinoceros, or elephant, or bull-hide. From the time he was
a toddling urchin he has been familiar with his weapons, and by the time
he was fifteen years old he was an adept with them.

"He is armed for battle in a very short time. The messenger from the
chief darts from village to village, and blows his ox-horn, the signal
for war. The warrior hears it, throws his hoe over his shoulder, enters
his house, and in a few seconds issues out again, arrayed in war-paint
and full fighting costume. Feathers of the ostrich, or the eagle, or the
vulture nod above his head; his long crimson robe streams behind him,
his shield is on his left arm, his darting assegai in his left hand, and
his ponderous man-cleaver--double-edged and pointed, heading a strong
staff--is in his right hand; jingling bells are tied around his ankles
and knees; ivory wristlets are on his arms, with which he sounds his
approach. With the plodding peasant's hoe he has dropped the peasant's
garb, and is now the proud, vain, exultant warrior--bounding aloft like
a gymnast, eagerly sniffing the battle-field. The strength and power of
the Wagogo are derived from their numbers.

"Though caravans of Wagogo are sometimes found passing up and down the
Unyamwezi road, they are not so generally employed as the Wanyamwezi in
trade. Their villages are thus always full of warriors. Weak tribes, or
remnants of tribes are very glad to be admitted under their protection.
Individuals of other tribes, also, who have been obliged to exile
themselves from their own tribes, for some deed of violence, are often
found in the villages of the Wagogo. In the north, the Wahumba are very
numerous; in the south may be found the Wahehe and Wakimbu, and in the
east may be found many a family from Usagara. Wanyamwi are also
frequently found in this country. Indeed, these latter people are like
Scotchmen, they may be found almost everywhere throughout Central
Africa, and have a knack of pushing themselves into prominence.

"As in Western Usagara, the houses of the Wagogo are square, arranged
around the four sides of an area--to which all the doors open. The roofs
are all flat, on which are spread the grain, herbs, tobacco and
pumpkins. The back of each department is pierced with small holes for
observation and for defense.

"The tembe is a fragile affair as constructed in Wagogo; it merely
consists of a line of slender sticks daubed over with mud, with three or
four strong poles planted at intervals to support the beams and rafters,
on which rests the flat clay roof. A musket-ball pierces the wattled
walls of a Wagogo tembe through and through. In Uyanzi, the tembe is a
formidable affair, because of the abundance of fine trees, which are cut
down and split into rails three or four inches thick.

"The tembe is divided into apartments, separated from each other by a
wattled wall. Each apartment may contain a family of grown-up boys and
girls, who form their beds on the floor, out of dressed hides. The
father of the family, only, has a kitanda, or fixed cot, made of
ox-hide, stretched over a frame, or of the bark of the myombo tree. The
floor is of tamped mud, and is exceedingly filthy, smelling strongly of
every abomination. In the corners, suspended to the rafters, are the
fine, airy dwellings of black spiders of very large size, and other
monstrous insects.

"Rats, a peculiarly long-headed, dun-colored species, infest every
tembe. Cows, goats, sheep and cats are the only domestic animals
permitted to dwell within the tembe.

"The Wagogo believe in the existence of a God, or sky spirit, whom they
call Mulungu. Their prayers are generally directed to him when their
parents die. A Wagogo, after he has consigned his father to the grave,
collects his father's chattels together, his cloth, his ivory, his
knife, his jeinbe (hoe), his bows and arrows, his spear and his cattle,
and kneels before them, repeating a wish that Mulungu would increase his
worldly wealth, that he would bless his labors and make him successful
in trade. They venerate, and often perform a dance in honor of the moon.

"The following conversation occurred between myself and a Wagogo trader:

"'Who do you suppose made your parents?'

"'Why, Mulungu, white man.'

"'Well, who made you?'

"'If God made my father, God made me, didn't He?'

"'That's very good. Where do you suppose your father has gone to, now
that he is dead?'

"'The dead die,' said he, solemnly, 'they are no more. The sultan dies,
he becomes nothing--he is then no better than a dead dog; he is
finished, his words are finished--there are no words from him. It is
true,' he added, seeing a smile on my face, 'the sultan becomes nothing.
He who says other words is a liar. There.'

"'But then he is a very great man, is he not?'

"'While he lives only--after death he goes into the pit, and there is no
more to be said of him than any other man.'

"'How do you bury a Wagogo?'

"'His legs are tied together, his right arm to his body, and his left is
put under his head. He is then rolled on his left side in the grave. His
cloth he wore during his life is spread over him. We put the earth over
him, and put thorn-bushes over it, to prevent the fize (hyena) from
getting at him. A woman is put on her right side in a grave apart from
the man.'

"'What do you do with the sultan, when he is dead?'

"'We bury him, too, of course; only he is buried in the middle of the
village, and we build a house over it. Each time they kill an ox, they
kill before his grave. When the old sultan dies, the new one calls for
an ox, and kills it before his grave, calling on Mulungu to witness that
he is the rightful sultan. He then distributes the meat in his father's
name.'

"'Who succeeds the sultan? Is he the eldest son?'

"'Yes, if he has a son; if childless, the great chief next to him in
rank. The msagira is the next to the sultan, whose business it is to
hear the cause of complaint, and convey it to the sultan, who, through
the sultan, dispenses justice, he receives the honga, carries it to the
mtemi (sultan), places it before him, and when the sultan has taken what
he wishes, the rest goes to the msagiri. The chiefs are called
manya-para; the msagiri is the chief manya-para.'

"'How do the Wagogo marry?'

"'Oh, they buy their women.'

"'What is a woman worth?'

"'A very poor man can buy his wife from her father for a couple of
goats.'

"'How much has the sultan got to pay?'

"'He has got to pay about one hundred goats, or so many cows, so many
sheep and goats, to his bride's father. Of course, he is a chief. The
sultan would not buy a common woman. The father's consent is to be
obtained, and the cattle have to be given up. It takes many days to
finish the talk about it. All the family and friends of the bride have
to talk about it before she leaves her father's house.'

"'In cases of murder, what do you do to the man that kills another?'

"'The murderer has to pay fifty cows. If he is too poor to pay, the
sultan gives permission to the murdered man's friends or relatives to
kill him. If they catch him, they tie him to a tree, and throw spears at
him--one at a time first; they then spring on him, cut his head off,
then his arms and limbs, and scatter them about the country.'

"'How do you punish a thief?'

"'If he is found stealing, he is killed at once, and nothing is said
about it. Is he not a thief?'

"'But, suppose you do not know who the thief is?'

"'If a man is brought before us accused of stealing, we kill a chicken.
If the entrails are white, he is innocent; if yellow, he is guilty.'

"'Do you believe in witchcraft?'

"'Of course we do, and punish the man with death who bewitches cattle or
stops rain.'

"Sacrifices of human life as penalty for witchcraft and kindred
superstitions--indeed for many trivial offenses--are painfully numerous
among nearly all the tribes.

[Illustration: WASTE OF HUMAN LIFE.

Human life is sacrificed as a penalty for witchcraft, theft, murder and
many trivial offenses.]

"Next to Wagogo is Uyanzi, or the 'Magunda Mkali'--the Hot Field.

"Uyanzi or Magunda Mkali is at present very populous. Along the
northern route--that leading _via_ Munieka--water is plentiful enough,
villages are frequent and travelers begin to perceive that the title is
inappropriate. The people who inhabit the country are Wakimbu from the
south. They are good agriculturists, and are a most industrious race.
They are something like the Wasagara in appearance, but do not obtain a
very high reputation for bravery. Their weapons consist of light spears,
bows and arrows, and battle-axes. Their tembes are strongly made,
showing considerable skill in the art of defensive construction. Their
bomas are so well made, that one would require cannon to effect an
entrance, if the villages were at all defended. They are skillful, also,
in constructing traps for elephants and buffaloes. A stray lion or
leopard is sometimes caught by them."

CHAPTER VI.

ADVENTURES IN GREAT VARIETY.

Stanley received a noiseless ovation in Unyanyembe as he walked with the
governor to his house. Soldiers and men by the hundreds, hovered round
their chief, staring at him, while the naked children peered between the
legs of the parents. Tea was served in a silver tea-pot and a sumptuous
breakfast was furnished, which Stanley devoured as only a hungry man
can, who has been shut up for so many months in the wilds of Africa.

Then pipes and tobacco were produced, and amid the whiffs of smoke came
out all the news that Stanley had brought from Zanzibar, while the
gratified sheikh smoked and listened. When Stanley took his leave to
look after his men his host accompanied him to show him the house he was
to occupy while he remained. It was commodious and quite luxurious after
his long life in a tent.

All the caravans had arrived, and he received the reports of the chief
of each, while the goods were unpacked and examined. One had had a fight
with the natives and beaten them, another had shot a thief, and the
fourth had lost a bale of goods. On the whole, Stanley was satisfied
and thankful there had been no more serious misfortunes. Food was
furnished with lavish prodigality, and while he was surfeiting himself,
he ordered a bullock to be slain for his men, now reduced to twenty-five
in number.

On the second day of his arrival, the chief Arabs of Tabna came to visit
him. This is the chief Arab settlement of Central Africa, and contains a
thousand huts and about five thousand inhabitants. The Arabs are a fine,
handsome set of men, and living amid rich pastures, they raise large
herds of cattle and goats, and vegetables of all kinds, while their
slaves bring back in caravans from Zanzibar the luxuries of the East,
not only coffee, spices, wines, salmon, etc., but Persian carpets, rich
bedding, and elegant table service. Some of them sport gold watches and
chains. Each one keeps as many concubines as he can afford, the size of
his harem being limited only by his means.

These magnates from Tabna after finishing their visit, invited Stanley
to visit their town and partake of a feast they had prepared for him.
Three days after, escorted by eighteen of his men, he returned the
visit. He arrived in time to attend a council of war which was being
held, as to the best manner of asserting their rights against a
robber-chief named Mirambo. He had carried war through several tribes
and claimed the right to waylay and rob Arab caravans. This must be
stopped, and it was resolved to make war against him in his stronghold.
Stanley agreed to accompany them, taking his caravan a part of the way
and leaving it until Mirambo was defeated, and the way to Ujiji cleared.

Returning to Unyanyembe, he found the caravan which had been made up to
carry supplies to Livingstone in November 1st, 1870. Having gone
twenty-five miles from Zanzibar, to Bagomayo, it had stayed there one
hundred days, when, hearing that the English consul was coming, it had
started off in affright just previous to Stanley's arrival. Whether
owing to his great change in diet or some other cause, Stanley was now
stricken down with fever and for a week tossed in delirium. Selim, his
faithful servant, took care of him. When he had recovered, the servant
also was seized with it.

[Illustration: A COUNCIL OF WAR.

The chiefs of the tribes in a certain vicinity meet to confer concerning
their wrongs and to plan for redress.]

But by the 29th of July all the sick had recovered, and the caravan was
loaded up for Ujiji. But Bombay was absent and they had to wait from
eight o'clock till two in the afternoon, he stubbornly refusing to leave
his mistress. When he arrived and was ordered to his place he made a
savage reply. The next moment Stanley's cane was falling like lightning
on his shoulders. The poor fellow soon cried for mercy. The order
"March" was then given, and the guide, with forty armed men behind him,
led off with flags streaming. At first, in dead silence, they moved on,
but soon struck up a monotonous sort of chorus, which seemed to consist
mostly of "Hoy, hoy," and was kept up all day. The second day he arrived
at Masangi, where he was told the Arabs were waiting for him at Mfuto,
six hours' march distant. The next morning, he arrived at the place
where the Arab army was gathered, numbering in all two thousand two
hundred and twenty-five men, of whom fifteen hundred were armed with
guns. With banners flying and drums beating, they, on the 3d of August,
marched forth, but in a few hours Stanley was again stricken down with
fever.

The next day the march was resumed, and at eleven o'clock Zimbize, the
stronghold of the enemy, came in view. The forces quickly surrounded it.
A general assault followed and the village was captured, the inhabitants
fleeing toward the mountains, pursued closely by the yelling Arabs. Only
twenty dead bodies were found within. The next day, two more villages
were burned and the day after, a detachment five hundred strong scoured
the country around, carrying devastation and ruin in their path. At this
critical period of the campaign, Stanley was still down with fever, and
while he lay in his hammock, news came that the detachment of five
hundred men had been surprised and killed. Mirambo had turned and
ambushed them, and now the boasting of the morning was turning into
despondency. The women made the night hideous with shrieks and
lamentations over their slain husbands. The next day there was a regular
stampede of the Arabs, and when Stanley was able to get out of his tent
only seven men were left to him; all the rest had returned to Mfuto, and
soon after to Tabna twenty-five miles distant.

It was plain that it was useless to open the direct road to Ujiji, which
lay through Mirambo's district. In fact, it seemed impossible to get
there at all, and the only course left was to return to the coast and
abandon the project of reaching Livingstone altogether. But what would
Livingstone do locked up at Ujiji? He might perhaps go north and meet
Baker, who was moving with a strong force southward. But he was told by
a man that Livingstone was coming to Nyano Lake toward the Tanganika, on
which Ujiji is situated, at the very time it was last reported he was
murdered. He was then walking, dressed in American sheeting, having lost
all his cloth in Lake Leemba. He had a breech-loading double-barreled
rifle with him and two revolvers. Stanley felt that he could not give up
trying to reach him now, when it was so probable that he was within four
hundred miles of him.

On the 13th, a caravan came in from the east and reported Farquhar dead
at the place where he had been left. Ten days after, Mirambo attacked
Tabna and set it on fire. Stanley, at this time, was encamped at
Kwihara, in sight of the burning town. The refugees came pouring in, and
Stanley, finding the men willing to stand by him, began to prepare for
defense, and counting up his little force found he had one hundred and
fifty men. He was not attacked, however, and five days after, Mirambo
retreated. The Arabs held councils of war and urged Stanley to become
their ally, but he refused, and finally took the bold resolution of
organizing a flying caravan, and by a southern route and quick marching,
reach Ujiji. This was August 27th, and the third month he had been in
Unyanyembe. Having got together some forty men in all, he gave a great
banquet to them prior to their departure, which an attack of fever
caused him to postpone. On the 20th of September, though too weak to
travel, he mustered his entire force outside the town and found, that by
additional men which the Arabs had succeeded in securing, it now
numbered fifty-four men. When all was ready Bombay was again missing,
and when found and brought up, excused himself, as of old, by saying he
was bidding his "misses" good-bye. As he seemed inclined to pick a
quarrel with Stanley, the latter not being in the most amiable mood and
wishing to teach the others a lesson, gave him a sound thrashing.

Soon, everything being ready, the word "march" passed down the line and
Stanley started on his last desperate attempt to push on to Ujiji, not
much farther than from Albany to Buffalo as the crow flies, but by the
way he would be compelled to go, no one knew how far, nor what time it
would take to reach it. But Stanley had good reason to believe that
Livingstone was alive, and from the reports he could get of his
movements that he must be at or near Ujiji, and therefore to Ujiji he
was determined to go, unless death stopped his progress. He had been set
on a mission, and although the conditions were not that he should
surmount impossibilities, still he would come as near to that as human
effort could. Though sick with fever, and with that prostration and
utter loss of will accompanying it, he nevertheless with that marvelous
energy that is never exhibited except in rare exceptional characters,
kept his great object in view. That never lost its hold on him under the
most disastrous circumstances, neither in the delirium of fever nor in
the utter prostration that followed it. This tenacity of purpose and
indomitable will ruling and governing him, where in all other men it
would have had no power, exhibit the extraordinary qualities of this
extraordinary man. We do not believe that he himself was fully aware of
this inherent power, this fixedness of purpose that makes him different
from all other men. No man possessing it is conscious of it any more
than an utterly fearless man is conscious of his own courage. The
following touching extract from his journal at this time lets in a
flood of light on the character and the inner life of this remarkable
man:

"About 10 P. M. the fever had gone. All were asleep in the tembe but
myself, and an unutterable loneliness came on me as I reflected on my
position, and my intentions, and felt the utter lack of sympathy with me
in all around. Even my own white assistant, with whom I had striven
hard, was less sympathizing than my little black boy Kalulu. It requires
more nerve than I possess to dispel all the dark presentiments that come
upon the mind. But, probably, what I call presentiments are simply the
impress on the mind of the warnings which these false-hearted Arabs have
repeated so often. This melancholy and loneliness which I feel, may
probably have their origin from the same cause. The single candle which
barely lights up the dark shade which fills the corners of my room, is
but a poor incentive to cheerfulness. I feel as though I were imprisoned
between stone walls. But why should I feel as if baited by these stupid,
slow-witted Arabs, and their warnings and croakings? I fancy a suspicion
haunts my mind, as I write, that there lies some motive behind all this.

"I wonder if these Arabs tell me all these things to keep me here, in
the hope that I may be induced another time to assist them in their war
against Mirambo! If they think so, they are much mistaken, for I have
taken a solemn, enduring oath--an oath to be kept while the least hope
of life remains in me--not to be tempted to break the resolution I have
formed, never to give up the search until I find Livingstone alive, or
find his dead body; and never to return home without the strongest
possible proofs that he is alive or that he is dead. No living man or
living men shall stop me--only death can prevent me. But death--not even
this; I shall not die--I will not die--I cannot die!

"And something tells me, I do not know what it is--perhaps it is the
everliving hopefulness of my own nature; perhaps it is the natural
presumption born out of an abundant and glowing vitality, or the outcome
of an overweening confidence in one's self--anyhow and everyhow,
something tells me to-night I shall find him, and--write it larger--FIND
HIM! FIND HIM! Even the words are inspiring. I feel more happy. Have I
uttered a prayer? I shall sleep calmly to-night."

There is nothing in this whole terrible journey so touching, and
revealing so much, as this extract from his journal does. It shows that
he is human, and yet far above common human weakness. Beset with
difficulties, his only white companion dead or about to be left behind,
the Arabs themselves and the natives telling him he cannot go on, left
all alone in a hostile country, his men deserting him, he pauses and
ponders. To make all these outer conditions darker, he is smitten down
with fever that saps the energies, unnerves the heart and fills the
imagination with gloomy forebodings, and makes the soul sigh for rest.
It is the lowest pit of despondency into which a man may be cast. He
feels it, and all alone, fever-worn and sad, he surveys the prospect
before him. There is not a single soul on which to lean--not a
sympathizing heart to turn to while fever is burning up his brain, and
night, moonless and starless, is settling down around him. He would be
less than human not to feel the desolation of his position, and for a
moment to sink under this accumulation of disastrous circumstances. He
does feel how utterly hopeless and sad is his condition; and all through
the first part of this entry in his journal, there is something that
sounds like a mournful refrain; yet at its close, out of his gloomy
surroundings, up from his feverish bed speaks the brave heart in trumpet
tones, showing the indomitable will that nothing can break, crying out
of the all-enveloping gloom, "_no living man or living men shall stop
me_--only death can prevent me." There spoke one of the few great
natures God has made. The closing words of that entry in his journal
ring like a bugle-note from his sick-bed, and foretell his triumph.

But, at last, they were off. Shaw, the last white man left to Stanley,
had been sick and apparently indifferent whether he lived or died; but
all after a short march became enlivened, and things looked more
promising. But Stanley was soon again taken sick with the fever and the
men began to be discouraged. Staggering from his sick-bed he found that
twenty of his men had deserted. Aroused at this new danger he instantly
dispatched twenty men after them, while he sent his faithful follower,
Selim, to an Arab chief to borrow a long slave-chain. At night, the
messengers returned with nine of the missing men. Stanley then told them
that he had never used the slave-chain, but now he should on the first
deserters. He had resolved to go to Ujiji, where he believed Dr.
Livingstone was, and being so near the accomplishment of the mission he
was sent on, he was ready to resort to any measures rather than fail.
Deferring the use of the chain at present, he started forward and
encamped at Iresaka. In the morning, two more men were missing.
Irritated but determined, this resolute man halted, sent back for the
fugitives, caught them, and when brought back, flogged them severely and
chained them. Notwithstanding this severe treatment, the next morning
another man deserted, while to add to his perplexities and enhance the
difficulties that surrounded him, a man who had accompanied him all the
way from the coast asked to be discharged. Several others of the
expedition were now taken sick and became unable to proceed; and it
seemed, notwithstanding the resolute will of the leader, that the
expedition must break up. But fortunately, that evening men who had been
in caravans to the coast entered the village where they were encamped
with wondrous stories of what they had seen, which revived the spirits
of all, and the next morning they started off, and after three hours'
march through the forest came to Kigandu. Shaw, the last white man now
left to him, between real and feigned sickness had become such a burden,
that he determined to leave him behind, as the latter had often
requested.

That night, the poor wretch played on an old accordion "Home, Sweet
Home," which, miserable as it was, stirred the depths of Stanley's heart
for the man now about to be left alone amid Arabs and natives in the
most desperate crisis of the undertaking. But it could not be helped.
Speed was everything on this new route, or Mirambo would close it also.
So on the morning of the 27th he ordered the horn to sound "get ready,"
and Shaw being sent back to Kwihara, Stanley set off on his southern
unknown route to Ujiji and entered the dark forests and pressed rapidly
forward. In seven hours he reached the village of Ugunda which numbers
two thousand souls. It was well fortified against the robber, Mirambo.
Around their principal village, some three thousand square acres were
under cultivation, giving them not only all the provisions they wanted
for their own use, but also enough for passing caravans. They could also
furnish carriers for those in want of them. On the 28th, they arrived at
a small village well supplied with corn, and the next day reached
Kikura a place impregnated with the most deadly of African fevers. Over
desert plains, now sheering on one side to avoid the corpse of a man
dead from small-pox, the scourge of Africa, and again stumbling on a
skeleton, the caravan kept on till they came to the cultivated fields of
Manyara.

A wilderness one hundred and thirty-five miles in extent stretched out
before them from this place, and Stanley was inclined to be very
conciliatory toward the chief of the village, in order to get provisions
for the long and desperate march before him. But the chief was very
sullen and wholly indifferent to the presents the white man offered him.
With adroit diplomacy, Stanley sent to him some magnificent royal
cloths, which so mollified the chief that abundant provisions were soon
sent in, followed by the chief himself with fifty warriors bearing gifts
quite equal to those which Stanley sent him, and they entered the tent
of the first white man they had ever seen. Looking at him for some time
in silent surprise, the chiefs burst into an incontrollable fit of
laughter, accompanied with snapping their fingers. But when they were
shown the sixteen-shooters and revolvers their astonishment knew no
bounds, while the double-barreled guns, heavily charged, made them jump
to their feet with alarm, followed by convulsions of laughter. Stanley
then showed them his chest of medicine, and finally gave them a dose in
the form of brandy. They tasted it, making wry faces, when he produced a
bottle of concentrated ammonia, saying that it was for snake bites. One
of the chiefs asked for some of it. It was suddenly presented to his
nose, when his features underwent such indescribable contortions that
the other chiefs burst into convulsions of laughter, clapped their
hands, pinched each other and went through all sorts of ludicrous
gesticulations. When the chief recovered himself, the tears in the
meanwhile rolling down his cheeks, he laughed and simply said, "_strong_
medicine." The others then took a sniff and went off into paroxysms of
laughter.

Wednesday, October 4th, found them traveling toward the Gombe River.
They had hardly left the waving corn-fields, when they came in sight of
a large herd of zebras. Passing on, the open forest resembled a
magnificent park, filled with buffalo, zebra, giraffe, antelope and
other tropical animals, while the scenery on every side was entrancing.
These noble animals, coursing in their wild freedom through those grand,
primeval forests, presented a magnificent sight. Stanley, thoroughly
aroused, crept back to his camp, which had been pitched on the Gombe
River, and prepared for a right royal hunt. He says:

"Here, at last, was the hunter's paradise! How petty and insignificant
appeared my hunts after small antelope and wild boar; what a foolish
waste of energies, those long walks through damp grasses and thorny
jungles. Did I not well remember my first bitter experience in African
jungles, when in the maritime region? But this--where is the nobleman's
park that can match this scene? Here is a soft, velvety expanse of young
grass, grateful shade under close, spreading clumps, herds of large and
varied game browsing within easy rifle-shot. Surely I must feel amply
compensated now for the long southern detour I have made, when such a
prospect as this opens to the view! No thorny jungles and rank-smelling
swamps are to daunt the hunter, and to sicken his aspirations after true
sport. No hunter could aspire after a nobler field to display his
prowess.

[Illustration: A SPRING-BOK BROWSING]

"Having settled the position of the camp, which overlooked one of the
pools found in the depression of the Gombe Creek, I took my
double-barreled smooth bore, and sauntered off to the parkland. Emerging
from behind a clump, three fine, plump spring-bok were seen browsing on
the young grass just within one hundred yards. I knelt down and fired;
one unfortunate antelope bounded forward instinctively and fell dead.
Its companions sprang high into the air, taking leaps about twelve feet
in length, as if they were quadrupeds practicing gymnastics, and away
they vanished, rising up like India-rubber balls, until a knoll hid
them from view. My success was hailed with loud shouts by the soldiers,
who came running out from the camp as soon as they heard the
reverberation of the gun, and my gun-bearer had his knife at the throat
of the beast, uttering a fervent 'Bismillah' as he almost severed the
head from the body.

"Hunters were now directed to proceed east and north to procure meat,
because in each caravan it generally happens that there are _fundi_
whose special trade it is to hunt for meat for the camp. Some of these
are experts in stalking, but often find themselves in dangerous
positions, owing to the near approach necessary before they can fire
their most inaccurate weapons with any certainty.

"After luncheon, consisting of spring-bok steak, hot corn-cake and a cup
of Mocha coffee, I strolled toward the southwest, accompanied by Kalulu
and Majwara, two boy gun-bearers. The tiny perpusilla started up like
rabbits from me as I stole along through the underbrush; the honey-bird
hopped from tree to tree chirping its call, as if it thought I was
seeking the little sweet treasure, the hiding-place of which it only
knew; but, no! I neither desired perpusilla nor the honey. I was on the
search for something great this day. Keen-eyed fish-eagles and bustards
poised on trees above the sinuous Gombe thought, and probably with good
reason, that I was after them, judging by the ready flight with which
both species disappeared as they sighted my approach. Ah, no! nothing
but hartbeest, zebra, giraffe, eland and buffalo this day.

"After following the Gombe's course for about a mile, delighting my eyes
with long looks at the broad and lengthy reaches of water, to which I
was so long a stranger, I came upon a scene which delighted the
innermost recesses of my soul; five, six, seven, eight, ten zebras
switching their beautiful striped bodies, and biting one another, within
about one hundred and fifty yards. The scene was so pretty, so romantic,
never did I so thoroughly realize that I was in Central Africa. I felt
momentarily proud that I owned such a vast dominion, inhabited by such
noble beasts. Here I possessed, within reach of a leaden ball, any one I
chose of the beautiful animals, the pride of the African forests. It was
at my option to shoot any one of them. Mine they were, without money and
without price; yet, knowing this, twice I dropped my rifle, loath to
wound the royal beasts, but--crack! and a royal one was on his back,
battling the air with his legs. Ah, it was such a pity! but hasten, draw
the keen, sharp-edged knife across the beautiful stripes which fold
around the throat, and--what an ugly gash! it is done, and I have a
superb animal at my feet. Hurrah! I shall taste of Ukonongo zebra
to-night.

"I thought a spring-bok and zebra enough for one day's sport,
especially after a long march. The Gombe, a long stretch of deep water,
winding in and out of green groves, calm, placid, with lotus leaves
resting lightly on its surface, all pretty, picturesque, peaceful as a
summer's dream, looked very inviting for a bath. I sought out the most
shady spot under a wide-spreading mimosa, from which the ground sloped
smooth as a lawn to the still, clear water. I ventured to undress, and
had already stepped to my ankles in the water, and had brought my hands
together for a glorious dive, when my attention was attracted by an
enormously long body which shot into view, occupying the spot beneath
the surface which I was about to explore by a 'header.' Great heavens,
it was a crocodile! I sprang back instinctively, and this proved my
salvation, for the monster turned away with the most disappointed look,
and I was left to congratulate myself upon my narrow escape from his
jaws, and to register a vow never to be tempted again by the treacherous
calm of an African river."

CHAPTER VII.

THE END APPROACHES.

The following extract from Stanley's journal, written up that night
after his hunting tour, shows that this strong, determined, fearless man
was not merely a courageous lion, but that he possessed also the eye of
an artist and the soul of a poet. With a few strokes of his pen, he
sketches a picture on the banks of the forest-lined river, full of life
and beauty:

"The adventures of the day were over; the azure of the sky had changed
to a deep gray; the moon was appearing just over the trees; the water of
the Gombe was like a silver belt; hoarse frogs bellowed their notes
loudly by the margin of the creek; the fish-eagles uttered their
dirge-like cries as they were perched high on the tallest trees; elands
snorted their warning to the herd in the forest; stealthy forms of the
carnivora stole through the dark woods outside of our camp. Within the
high inclosure of bush and thorn which we had raised about our camp, all
was jollity, laughter and radiant, genial comfort. Around every
camp-fire, dark forms of men were seen squatted: one man gnawed at a
luscious bone; another sucked the rich marrow in a zebra's leg bone;
another turned the stick, garnished with huge cabobs, to the bright
blaze; another held a large rib over a flame; there were others busy
stirring, industriously, great black potfuls of ugali, and watching
anxiously the meat simmering, and the soup bubbling, while the firelight
flickered and danced bravely, and cast a bright glow over the naked
forms of the men, and gave a crimson tinge to the tall tent that rose in
the centre of the camp, like a temple sacred to some mysterious god; the
fires cast their reflections upon the massive arms of the trees, as they
branched over our camp; and, in the dark gloom of their foliage, the
most fantastic shadows were visible. Altogether, it was a wild, romantic
and impressive scene."

They halted here for two days, the men hunting and gormandizing. Like
all animals, after gorging themselves they did not want to move, and
when on the 7th of October Stanley ordered the caravan to be put in
motion, the men refused to stir. Stanley at once walked swiftly toward
them with his double-barreled gun, loaded with buck-shot, in his hand.
As he did so he saw the men seize their guns. He, however, kept
resolutely on till within thirty yards of two men, whose heads were
peering above an ant-hill, their guns pointed across the road,--then
suddenly halting, he took deliberate aim at them, determined come what
would to blow out their brains. One of them, a giant, named Azmani,
instantly brought up his gun with his finger on the trigger. "Drop that
gun or you are a dead man," shouted Stanley. They obeyed and came
forward, but he saw that murder was in Azmani's eyes. The other man, at
the second order, laid down his gun and, with a blow from Stanley that
sent him reeling away, sneaked off. But the giant, Azmani, refused to
obey, and Stanley aiming his piece at his head and touching the trigger
was about to fire. The former quickly lifted his gun up to his shoulder
to shoot. In another second he would have fallen dead at Stanley's feet.
At this moment an Arab, who had approached from behind, struck up the
wretch's gun and exclaimed, "Man, how dare you point your gun at the
master?" This saved his life, and perhaps Stanley's also. It required
nerves of iron in a man thus to stand up all alone in the heart of an
African forest surrounded by savages and defy them all, and cow them
all. But the trouble was over, peace was concluded, and the men with one
accord agreed to go on. The two instigators of this mutiny were Bombay
and a savage, named Ambari. Snatching up a spear Stanley immediately
gave the former a terrible pounding with the handle. Then turning on the
latter, who stood looking on with a mocking face, he administered the
same punishment to him, after which he put them both in chains.

For the next fourteen days, nothing remarkable occurred in the march,
which had been in a southwesterly direction. Near a place called Mrera,
Stanley, for the first time saw a herd of wild elephants, and was deeply
impressed with their lordly appearance. Here Selim was taken sick and
the caravan halted for three days, Stanley spending the interval in
mending his shoes.

He now had four districts to traverse, which would occupy him
twenty-five days. Taking a northwesterly route having, as he thought,
got around the country of Mirambo, he pushed forward with all speed.
Buffaloes, leopards and lions were encountered; the country was
diversified, and many of the petty chiefs grasping and unfriendly, so
that it was a constant, long, wearisome fight with obstacles from the
beginning to the end of each week. But, on November 3d, a caravan of
eighty came into Stanley's camp from the westward. The latter asked the
news. They replied that a white man had just arrived at Ujiji. This was
startling news indeed.

"A white man!" exclaimed Stanley.

"Yes, a white man."

"How is he dressed?"

"Like the master," pointing to him.

"Is he young or old?"

"He is old, with white hair on his face; and he is sick."

"Where has he come from?" was the next anxious inquiry.

"From a very far country, away beyond Uguh-ha."

"And is he now stopping at Ujiji?"

"Yes, we left him there eight days ago."

"How long is he going to stay there?"

"Don't know."

"Was he ever there before?"

"Yes; he went away a long time ago."

Stanley gave a shout of exultation, exclaiming: "It is Livingstone!"

Then came the thought, it may be some other man. Perhaps it is Baker,
who has worked his way in there before me. It was a crushing thought,
that after all his sufferings, and sickness, and toils, he should have
been anticipated, and that there was now nothing left for him but to
march back again. "No!" he exclaimed to himself: "Baker has no white
hair on his face." But he could now wait no longer, and turning to his
men, he asked them if they were willing to march to Ujiji without a
single halt. If they were, he would, on their arrival, present each two
doti of cloth. They all shouted, "Yes!" Stanley jots down: "I was madly
rejoiced, intensely eager to resolve the burning question, 'Is it Dr.
Livingstone?' God grant me patience; but I do wish there was a railroad,
or at least, horses, in this country. With a horse I could reach him in
twelve hours."

But new dangers confronted him. The chiefs became more exhorbitant in
their demands and more hostile in their demonstrations, and but for
Stanley's eagerness to get on, he would more than once have fought his
way through some of those pertinacious tribes. But his patience, at
last, gave out, for he was told after he had settled the last tribute
that there were five more chiefs ahead who would exact tribute. This
would beggar him, and he asked two natives if there was no way of
evading the next chief, named Wahha.

"This rather astonished them at first, and they declared it to be
impossible; but finally, after being pressed, they replied that one of
their number should guide us at midnight, or a little after, into the
jungle which grew on the frontiers of Uhha and Uvinza. By keeping a
direct west course through this jungle until we came to Ukavanga, we
might be enabled--we were told--to travel through Uhha without further
trouble. If I were willing to pay the guide twelve doti, and if I were
able to impose silence on my people while passing through the sleeping
village, the guide was positive I could reach Ujiji without paying
another doti. It is needless to add that I accepted the proffered
assistance at such a price with joy.

"But there was much to be done. Provisions were to be purchased,
sufficient to last four days, for the tramp through the jungle and men
were at once sent with cloth to purchase grain at any price. Fortune
favored us, and before 8 P. M. we had enough for six days.

"November 7th.--I did not go to sleep at all last night, but a little
after midnight, as the moon was beginning to show itself, by gangs of
four the men stole quietly out of the village; and by 3 A. M. the entire
expedition was outside the bonna and not the slightest alarm had been
made. After whistling to the new guide, the expedition began to move in
a southern direction along the right bank of the Kanenzi River. After an
hour's march in this direction, we struck west across the grassy plain,
and maintained it, despite the obstacles we encountered which were sore
enough to naked men. The bright moon lighted our path; dark clouds now
and then cast immense long shadows over the deserted and silent plain,
and the moonbeams were almost obscured, and at such times our position
seemed awful--

                         "'Till the moon,
     Rising in clouded majesty, at length
     Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light,
     And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.'

"Bravely toiled the men, without murmur, though their legs were bleeding
from the cruel grass. 'Ambrosial morn' at last appeared, with all its
beautiful and lovely features. Heaven was born anew to us, with
comforting omens and cheery promise. The men, though fatigued at the
unusual travel, sped forward with quicker pace as daylight broke, until
at 8 A. M. we sighted the swift Rusugi River, where a halt was ordered
in a clump of jungle for breakfast and rest. Both banks of the river
were alive with buffalo, eland and antelope, but though the sight was
very tempting, we did not fire, because we dared not. The report of a
gun would have alarmed the whole country. I preferred my coffee, and the
contentment which my mind experienced at our success.

"An hour after we had rested, some natives carrying salt from the
Malagarazi were seen coming up the right bank of the river. When abreast
of our hiding-place they detected us, and dropping their salt-bags, they
took to their heels at once, shouting out as they ran, to alarm some
villages that appeared some four miles north of us. The men were
immediately ordered to take up their loads, and in a few minutes we had
crossed the Rusugi, and were making direct for a bamboo jungle that
appeared in our front. Almost as soon as we entered, a weak-brained
woman raised a series of piercing yells. The men were appalled at this
noisy demonstration, which would call down upon our heads the vengeance
of the Wahha for evading the tribute, to which they thought themselves
entitled. In half an hour we should have hundreds of howling savages
about us in the jungle, and probably a general massacre would ensue. The
woman screamed fearfully again and again, for no cause whatever. Some of
the men, with the instinct of self-preservation, at once dropped their
bales and loads and vanished into the jungle. The guide came rushing
back to me, imploring me to stop her noise. The woman's husband, livid
with rage and fear, drew his sword and asked permission to cut her head
off at once. Had I given the least signal, the woman had paid with her
life for her folly. I attempted to hush her cries by putting my hand
over her mouth, but she violently wrestled with me, and continued her
cries worse than ever. There remained nothing else for me to do but to
try the virtue of my whip over her shoulders. I asked her to desist
after the first blow. 'No!' She continued her insane cries with
increased force and volume. Again my whip descended on her shoulders.
'No, no, no.' Another blow. 'Will you hush?' 'No, no, no,' louder and
louder she cried, and faster and faster I showered the blows for the
taming of this shrew. However, seeing I was as determined to flog as she
was to cry, she desisted before the tenth blow and became silent. A
cloth was folded over her mouth, and her arms were tied behind her; and
in a few moments, the runaways having returned to their duty, the
expedition moved forward again with redoubled pace."

That night they encamped at Lake Musunya, which swarmed with
hippopotami. No tent nor hut was raised, nor fire kindled, and Stanley
lay down with his rifle slung over his shoulders, ready to act on a
moment's notice. Before daylight they were off again, and at early dawn
emerged from the jungle and stretched rapidly across a naked plain.
Reaching the Rugufa River, they halted in a deep shade, when suddenly
Stanley heard a sound like distant thunder. Asking one of his men if it
were thunder, the latter replied no, that it was the noise made by the
waves of Tanganika breaking into the caverns on its shore. Was he,
indeed, so near this great inland sea, of which Ujiji was the chief
harbor?

Pressing on three hours longer they encamped in the forest. Two hours
before daylight they again set out, the guide promising that by next
morning they should be clear of the hostile district. On this Stanley
exclaims, "Patience, my soul! A few hours more and then the end of all
this will be known. I shall be face to face with that white man with the
white beard on his face, whoever he may be." Before daylight they
started again, and emerging from the forest on to the high road, the
guides, thinking they had passed the last village of the hostile tribe,
set up a shout, but soon, to their horror, came plump upon its
outskirts. Fate seemed about to desert him at the last moment, for if
the village was roused he was a doomed man. Keeping concealed amid the
trees, Stanley ordered the goats to be killed lest their bleating should
lead to discovery, the chickens to be killed also, and then they plunged
into the jungle, Stanley being the last man to follow. It was a narrow
escape. After an half-hour's march, finding they were not pursued, they
again took to the road. One more night in the encampment and then the
end would come. Next morning they pushed on with redoubled speed, and in
two hours, from the top of a mountain Stanley, with bounding heart,
beheld Lake Tanganika, a vast expanse of burnished silver, with dark
mountains around it and the blue sky above it. "Hurrah," shouted
Stanley, and the natives took up the shout, till the hills and forest
rang with their exultant cries. The long struggle was near over; the
goal toward which he had been so long straining was almost won.

CHAPTER VIII.

STANLEY MEETS LIVINGSTONE.

Stanley's excitement at this supreme moment of his life can never be
described or even imagined. When he started from Zanzibar, he knew he
had thrown the dice which were to fix his fate. Successful, and his fame
was secure, while failure meant death; and all the chances were against
him. How much he had taken upon himself no one but he knew; into what
gloomy gulfs he had looked before he started, he alone was conscious. Of
the risks he ran, of the narrow escapes he had made, of the toils and
sufferings he had endured, he alone could form an estimate. With the
accumulation of difficulties and the increasing darkness of his
prospects, the one great object of his mission had increased in
importance, till great though it was, it became unnaturally magnified so
that, at last, it filled all his vision, and became the one, the great,
the only object in life worth pursuing. For it he had risked so much,
toiled so long and suffered so terribly, that the whole world, with all
its interests, was secondary to it. Hope had given way to disappointment
and disappointment yielded to despair so often, that his strong nature
had got keyed up to a dangerous pitch. But now the reward was near.
Balboa, when alone he ascended the summit that was to give him a sight
of the great Pacific Ocean, was not more intensely excited than was
Stanley when he labored up the steep mountain that should give him a
view of the Tanganika.

The joy, the exultation of that moment, outbalanced a life of common
happiness. It was a feeling that lifts the soul into a region where our
common human nature never goes, and it becomes a memory that influences
and shapes the character forever. Such a moment of ecstasy--of perfect
satisfaction--of exultant, triumphant feeling that asks nothing
better--that brings perfect rest with the highest exaltation, can happen
to any man but once in a life-time. To attempt to give any description
of this culmination of all his effort, and longing, and ambition, except
in his own words, would be not only an act of injustice to him, but to
the reader.

The descent to Ujiji and the interview with Livingstone is full of
dramatic interest and the description of it should not be made by a
third party, for to attempt to improve on it would be presumption and
would end only in failure. We, therefore, give it in Mr. Stanley's own
words, that glow with vivid life from beginning to end, and this shall
be his chapter:

"We are descending the western slope of the mountain, with the valley of
the Linche before us. Something like an hour before noon we have gained
the thick matite brake, which grows on both banks of the river; we wade
through the clear stream, arrive on the other side, emerge out of the
brake, and the gardens of the Wajiji are around us--a perfect marvel of
vegetable wealth. Details escape my hasty and partial observation. I am
almost overpowered with my own emotion. I notice the graceful palms,
neat plats, green with vegetable plants, and small villages, surrounded
with frail fences of the matite cane.

"We push on rapidly, lest the news of our coming might reach the people
of Bunder Ujiji before we come in sight and are ready for them. We halt
at a little brook, then ascend the long slope of a naked ridge, the very
last of the myriads we have crossed. This alone prevents us from seeing
the lake in all its vastness. We arrive at the summit, travel across and
arrive at its western rim, and--pause, reader--the port of Ujiji is
below us, embowered in the palms, only five hundred yards from us. At
this grand moment we do not think of the hundreds of miles we have
marched, of the hundreds of hills we have ascended and descended, of the
many forests we have traversed, of the jungles and thickets that annoyed
us, of the fervid salt plains that blistered our feet, of the hot suns
that scorched us, nor the dangers and difficulties now happily
surmounted. At last the sublime hour has arrived! our dreams, our
hopes, our anticipations are about to be realized. Our hearts and our
feelings are with our eyes, as we peer into the palms and try to make
out in which hut or house lives the white man, with the gray beard, we
heard about on the Malagarazi.

"'Unfurl the flags and load the guns.'

"'Ay, Wallah, ay, Wallah, bana!' responded the men, eagerly.

"'One--two--three--fire.'

"A volley from nearly fifty guns roars like a salute from a battery of
artillery; we shall note its effect, presently, on the peaceful-looking
village below.

"'Now, Kirangozi, hold the white man's flag up high, and let the
Zanzibar flag bring up the rear. And you men keep close together, and
keep firing until we halt in the market-place, or before the white man's
house. You have said to me often that you could smell the fish of the
Tanganika. I can smell the fish of the Tanganika now. There are fish,
and beer, and a long rest awaiting for you. MARCH!'

"Before we had gone one hundred yards our repeated volleys had the
desired effect. We had awakened Ujiji to the fact that a caravan was
coming, and the people were witnessed running up in hundreds to meet us.
The mere sight of the flags informed every one immediately that we were
a caravan, but the American flag, borne aloft by the gigantic Asmani,
whose face was one broad smile on this day, rather staggered them at
first. However, many of the people who now approached us remembered the
flag. They had seen it float above the American consulate, and from the
mast-heads of many a ship in the harbor of Zanzibar, and they were soon
heard welcoming the beautiful flag with cries of 'Bindera Kisungu!'--a
white man's flag! 'Bindera Mericani!'--the American flag! These cries
resounded on all sides.

"Then we were surrounded by them--by Wajiji, Wanyamzi, Wangwana,
Warundi, Waguhha, Wamanyuema and Arabs, and were almost deafened with
the shout of 'Yambo, yambo, bona! Yambo bona, Yambo bona, Yambo bona!'
To all and each of my men the welcome was given.

"We were now about three hundred yards from the village of Ujiji, and
the crowds are dense about me. Suddenly I hear a voice on my right say:
'Good morning, sir!'

"Startled at hearing this greeting in the midst of such a crowd of black
people, I turn sharply around in search of the man, and see him at my
side with the blackest of faces, but animated and joyous--a man dressed
in a long white shirt, with a turban of American sheeting around his
woolly head, and I ask: 'Who the mischief are you?'

"'I am Susi, the servant of Dr. Livingstone,' said he, smiling and
showing a gleaming row of teeth.

"'What! is Dr. Livingstone here?'

"'Yes, sir.'

"'In this village?'

"'Yes, sir.'

"'Are you sure?'

"'Sure, sure, sir. Why I just left him.'

"'Good-morning, sir,' said another voice.

"'Hallo,' said I, 'is this another one?'

"'Yes, sir.'

"'Well, what is your name?'

"'My name is Chumah, sir.'

"'What are you, Chumah, the friend of Weko-tani?'

"'Yes, sir.'

"'And is the doctor well?'

"'Not very well, sir.'

"'Where has he been so long?

"'In Manyuema.'

"'Now you, Susi, run and tell the doctor I am coming.'

"'Yes, sir,' and off he darted like a madman.

"By this time we were within two hundred yards of the village, and the
multitude was getting denser, and almost preventing our march. Flags and
streamers were out; Arabs and Wangwana were pushing their way through
the natives in order to greet us, for according to their account we
belonged to them. But the great wonder of all was, 'How did you come
from Unyanyembe?'

"Soon Susi came running back and asked me my name; he had told the
doctor that I was coming, but the doctor was too surprised to believe
him, and when the doctor asked him my name Susi was rather staggered.

"But during Susi's absence the news had been conveyed to the doctor that
it was surely a white man that was coming, whose guns were firing and
whose flag could be seen; and the great Arab magnates of Ujiji--Mohammed
bin Sali, Sayd bin Majid, Abid bin Suliman, Mohammed bin Gharib and
others--had gathered together before the doctor's house, and the doctor
had come out on his veranda to discuss the matter and await my arrival.

"In the meantime, the head of the expedition had halted and the
Kirangozi were out of the ranks, holding the flag aloft, and Selim said
to me, 'I see the doctor, sir. Oh, what an old man! He has got a white
beard.' And I--what would I not have given for a bit of friendly
wilderness where, unseen, I might vent my joy in some mad freak, such as
idiotically biting my hand, turning a somersault, or slashing some
trees, in order to allay those exciting feelings that were well-nigh
uncontrollable. My heart beats fast, but I must not let my face betray
my emotions, lest it shall detract from the dignity of a white man
appearing under such extraordinary circumstances.

"So I did that which I thought was most dignified, I pushed back the
crowds, and, passing from the rear, walked down a living avenue of
people until I came in front of the semi-circle of Arabs, in front of
which stood the white man with the gray beard. As I advanced slowly
toward him I noticed he was pale, looked wearied, had a gray beard, wore
a bluish cap with a faded gold band around it, had on a red-sleeved
waistcoat and a pair of gray tweed trousers. I would have run to him,
only I was a coward in such a mob--would have embraced him, only, he
being an Englishman, I did not know how he would receive me; so I did
what cowardice and false pride suggested was the best thing--walked
deliberately to him, took off my hat and said, 'Dr. Livingstone, I
presume?'

"'Yes,' said he, with a kind smile, lifting his hat slightly.

"I replace my cap on my head, and he puts on his cap, and we both grasp
hands, and then I say aloud: 'I thank God, doctor, I have been permitted
to see you.'

"He answered: 'I feel thankful I am here to welcome you.'

[Illustration: STANLEY MEETING LIVINGSTONE AT UJIJI.]

"I turned to the Arabs, took off my hat to them in response to the
saluting chorus of 'Yambos,' I receive, and the doctor introduces them
to me by name. Then oblivious of the crowds, oblivious of the men who
shared with me my dangers, we--Livingstone and I--turn our faces toward
his tembe. He points to the veranda, or rather mud platform, under the
broad over-hanging eaves; he points to his own particular seat, which I
see his age and experience in Africa have suggested, namely, a straw mat
with a goat-skin over it, and another skin nailed against the wall to
protect his back from contact with the cold mud. I protest against
taking this seat, which so much more befits him than me, but the doctor
will not yield: I must take it.

"We are seated--the doctor and I--with our backs to the wall. The Arabs
take seats on our left. More than a thousand natives are in our front,
filling the whole square densely, indulging their curiosity and
discussing the fact of two white men meeting at Ujiji--one just come
from Manyuema, in the west, the other from Unyanyembe, in the east.

"Conversation began. What about? I declare I have forgotten. Oh! we
mutually asked questions of one another, such as: 'How did you come
here?' and 'Where have you been all this long time? the world has
believed you to be dead.' Yes, that was the way it began; but whatever
the doctor informed me, and that which I communicated to him, I cannot
exactly report, for I found myself gazing at him, conning the wonderful
man, at whose side I now sat in Central Africa. Every hair of his head
and beard, every wrinkle of his face, the wanness of his features, and
the slightly wearied look he wore, were all imparting intelligence to
me--the knowledge I craved for so much ever since I heard the words,
'Take what you want, but find Livingstone.' What I saw was deeply
interesting intelligence to me, and unvarnished truths I was listening
and reading at the same time. What did these dumb witnesses relate to
me?

"Oh, reader, had you been at my side that day at Ujiji, how eloquently
could be told the nature of this man's work! Had you been there but to
see and hear! His lips gave me the details; lips that never lie. I
cannot repeat what he said; I was too much engrossed to take my
note-book out and begin to stenograph his story. He had so much to say
that he began at the end, seemingly oblivious of the fact that five or
six years had to be accounted for. But his account was oozing out; it
was growing fast into grand proportions--into a most marvelous history
of deeds.

"The Arabs rose up with a delicacy I approved, as if they intuitively
knew that we ought to be left to ourselves. I sent Bombay with them to
give them the news they also wanted so much to know about the affairs at
Unyanyembe. Sayd bin Majid was the father of the gallant young man whom
I saw at Masange, and who fought with me at Zimbizo, and who soon
afterwards was killed by Mirambo's Ruga--Ruga in the forest of
Wilyankuru; and knowing I had been there, he earnestly desired to hear
the tale of the fight; but they all had friends at Unyanyembe, and it
was but natural that they should be anxious to hear of what concerned
them.

"After giving orders to Bombay and Asmani for the provisioning of the
men of the expedition, I called 'Kaif-Halek,' or 'how do ye do,' and
introduced him to Dr. Livingstone as one of the soldiers in charge of
certain goods left at Unyanyembe, whom I had compelled to accompany me
to Ujiji that he might deliver in person to his master, the letter-bag
he had been intrusted with by Dr. Kirk.

"This was the famous letter-bag marked 'Nov. 1st, 1870,' which was now
delivered into the doctor's hands, three hundred and sixty-five days
after it left Zanzibar! How long, I wonder, had it remained at
Unyanyembe, had I not been dispatched into Central Africa in search of
the great traveler?

"The doctor kept the letter-bag on his knee, then, presently, opened it,
looked at the letters contained there and read one or two of his
children's letters, his face, in the meanwhile, lighting up.

"He asked me to tell him the news. 'No, doctor,' said I, 'read your
letters first, which, I am sure, you must be impatient to read.'

"'Ah,' said he, 'I have waited years for letters, and I have been taught
patience. I can surely afford to wait a few hours longer. No; tell me
the general news; how is the world getting along?'

"'You probably know much already. Do you know that the Suez Canal is a
fact--is opened and a regular trade carried on between Europe and India
through it?'

"'I did not hear about the opening of it. Well, that is grand news! What
else?'

"Shortly I found myself enacting the part of an annual periodical to
him. There was no need of exaggeration--of any penny-a-line news, or of
any sensationalism. The world had witnessed and experienced much the
last few years. The Pacific Railroad had been completed; Grant had been
elected President of the United States; Egypt had been flooded with
savans; the Cretan rebellion had terminated; a Spanish revolution had
driven Isabella from the throne of Spain, and a regent had been
appointed; General Prim was assassinated; a Castelar had electrified
Europe with his advanced ideas upon the liberty of worship; Prussia had
humbled Denmark and annexed Schleswig-Holstein, and her armies were now
around Paris; the 'Man of Destiny' was a prisoner at Wilhelmshöhe; the
queen of fashion and the empress of the French was a fugitive; and the
child born in the purple had lost forever the imperial crown intended
for its head; the Napoleon dynasty was extinguished by the Prussians,
Bismarck and Von Moltke, and France, the proud empire, was humbled to
the dust.

"What could a man have exaggerated of these facts? What a budget of news
it was to one who had emerged from the depths of the primeval forests of
Manyuema! The reflection of the dazzling light of civilization was cast
on him while Livingstone was thus listening in wonder to one of the most
exciting passages of history ever repeated. How the puny deeds of
barbarism paled before these! Who could tell under what new phases of
uneasy life Europe was laboring even then, while we two of her lonely
children rehearsed the tale of her late woes and glories? More worthily,
perhaps, had the tongue of a lyric Demodocus recounted them; but in the
absence of the poet, the newspaper correspondent performed his part as
well and truthfully as he could.

"Not long after the Arabs had departed, a dishful of hot hashed-meat
cakes was sent to us by Sayd bin Majid, and a curried chicken was
received from Mohammed bin Sali, and Moeni Kheri sent a dishful of
stewed goat meat and rice; and thus presents of food came in succession,
and as fast as they were brought we set to. I had a healthy, stubborn
digestion, the exercise I had taken had put it in prime order, but
Livingstone--he had been complaining that he had no appetite, that his
stomach refused everything but a cup of tea now and then--he ate
also--ate like a vigorous, hungry man; and as he vied with me in
demolishing the pancakes, he kept repeating, 'You have brought me new
life.'

"'Oh, by George,' I said, 'I have forgotten something. Hasten, Selim,
and bring that bottle; you know which; and bring me the silver goblets.
I brought this bottle on purpose for this event, which I hoped would
come to pass, though often it seemed useless to expect it.'

"Selim knew where the bottle was, and he soon returned with it--a bottle
of Sillery champagne; and, handing the doctor a silver goblet brimful of
the exhilarating wine, and pouring a small quantity into my own, I said:
'Dr. Livingstone, to your very good health, sir.'

"'And to yours,' he responded.

"And the champagne I had treasured for this happy meeting was drank with
hearty good wishes to each other.

"But we kept on talking and talking, and prepared food was brought to us
all that afternoon, and we kept on eating every time it was brought
until I had eaten even to repletion, and the doctor was obliged to
confess that he had eaten enough. Still, Halimah, the female cook of the
doctor's establishment, was in a state of the greatest excitement. She
had been protruding her head out of the cook-house, to make sure that
there were really two white men sitting down in the veranda, when there
used to be only one, who would not, because he could not, eat anything;
and she had been considerably exercised in her mind over this fact. She
was afraid the doctor did not properly appreciate her culinary
abilities; but now she was amazed at the extraordinary quantity of food
eaten, and she was in a state of delightful excitement. We could hear
her tongue rolling off a tremendous volume of clatter to the wondering
crowds who halted before the kitchen to hear the current of news with
which she edified them. Poor, faithful soul. While we listen to the
noise of her furious gossip, the doctor related her faithful services
and the terrible anxiety she evinced when the guns first announced the
arrival of another white man in Ujiji; how she had been flying about in
a state of the utmost excitement, from the kitchen into his presence,
and out again into the square, asking all sorts of questions; how she
was in despair at the scantiness of the general larder and treasury of
the strange household; how she was anxious to make up for their poverty
by a grand appearance--to make up a sort of Barmecide feast to welcome
the white man.

"'Why,' said she, 'is he not one of us? Does he not bring plenty of
cloth and beads? Talk about the Arabs! Who are they, that they should be
compared to white men? Arabs, indeed!'

"The doctor and I conversed upon many things, especially upon his own
immediate troubles, and his disappointment upon his arrival at Ujiji
when told that all his goods had been sold, and he was reduced to
poverty. He had but twenty cloths or so left of the stock he had
deposited with the man called sheriff, the half-caste, drunken tailor,
who was sent by the British consul in charge of the goods. Besides which
he had been suffering from an attack of the dysentery, and his condition
was most deplorable. He was but little improved on this day, though he
had eaten well, and already began to feel stronger and better.

"This day, like all others, though big with happiness to me, at last,
was fading away. We, sitting with our faces looking to the east, as
Livingstone had been sitting for days preceding my arrival, noted the
dark shadow which crept up above the grove of palms beyond the village,
and above the rampart of mountains which we had crossed that day, now
looming through the fast-approaching darkness; and we listened, with our
hearts full of gratitude to the great Giver of Good and Dispenser of all
Happiness to the sonorous thunder of the surf of the Tanganika, and to
the chorus which the night insects sang. Hours passed, and we were still
sitting there with our minds busy upon the day's remarkable events, when
I remembered that the venerable traveler had not yet read his letters.

"'Doctor,' I said, 'you had better read your letters. I will not keep
you up any longer.'

"'Yes,' he answered, 'it is getting late, and I will go and read my
friends' letters. Good-night, and God bless you.'

"'Good-night, my dear doctor, and let me hope, your news will be such as
you desire.'"

Since the creation of the world there never has occurred such another
interview. The feelings of Stanley that night, in the heart of Africa,
can only be imagined. The strain had ended, the doubt and suspense were
over--_he had found Livingstone!_ he had succeeded; his most extravagant
dreams had been realized; his wildest ambition was satisfied, and from
that hour the adventurer, the newspaper correspondent, took his place
among the great explorers of the world. But it was no stroke of
luck,--it was the fitting reward of great risks and great endeavor.

CHAPTER IX.

STANLEY'S HOMEWARD MARCH.

Rest and repose were now enjoyed to the full by Stanley. His long
struggles, his doubts and fears, his painful anxiety were over, and the
end toward which he had strained with such unflagging resolution, the
most disheartening circumstances, and which at times seemed to recede
the more as he pressed forward, was at last reached. The sweet repose,
the calm satisfaction and enjoyment which always come with the
consciousness of complete success, now filled his heart, and he felt as
none can feel but he who has at last won a long and doubtful battle. It
was complete rest, the entire fruition of his hopes; and as he sat down
there in the heart of Africa, beside Livingstone, he was doubtless for
at least the first few days, the happiest man on the globe, and well he
deserved to be. The goal was won, the prize secured, and for the time
being his utmost desires were satisfied. Why should he not be happy?

His intercourse with Livingstone for the next four months will be marked
by him as the brightest portion of his eventful life. Independent of all
he had undergone to find this remarkable man, the man himself enlisted
all his sympathies and awakened his most extravagant admiration and
purest love, and a more charming picture can hardly be conceived than
these two men, walking at sunset along the beach of the wild and lonely
lake of Tanganika, talking over the strange scenes and objects of their
strange, new world, or recalling home and friends far away amid all the
comforts and luxuries of civilization. The man whom Stanley had at last
found was almost as new and startling a revelation to him as the country
in which he had found him. Simple, earnest, unselfish--nay, unambitious,
so far as personal fame was concerned, borne up in all his sufferings
and trials by one great and noble purpose, and conquering even savage
hate by the power of goodness alone, he was an object of the profoundest
interest. And no greater eulogium on the innate goodness and nobleness
of Stanley's nature could be given than he unconsciously bestowed on
himself by the deep attachment, nay, almost adoration, he expresses for
this lonely, quiet, good man. He fastens to him at once, and casting off
old prejudices and rejecting all former criticisms of his character, he
impulsively becomes his champion, and crowns him the prince of men.

The talk between them at their first meeting in this far-off land, was
long and pleasant, and when the good-night was given, it was with
strange feelings that Stanley turned into his allotted sleeping place
in a regular bed. After all the toils and almost unnatural excitement of
the day, he soon sank into profound slumber. The next morning he awoke
with a start, and looked about him for a moment in a dazed way. He was
not on the ground, but in a bed; a roof, not a tent, was above him,
while not a sound broke the stillness save the steady, monotonous roar
of the surf beating on the shore. As he lay and listened, strange
thoughts and varied emotions chased each other in rapid succession
through his heart. At length he arose and dressed himself, intending
before breakfast to take a stroll along the shore of the lake. But the
doctor was up before him and met him with a cordial "Good-morning," and
the hope that he had rested well.

Livingstone had sat up late reading the news that Stanley had brought
him from the outside world, from which he had heard nothing for years.

"Sit down," said the venerable man, "you have brought me good and bad
news," and then he repeated, first of all, the tidings he had received
from his children.

In the excitement of the day before, the doctor had forgotten to inquire
of Stanley the object of his coming, or where he was going, and the
latter now said: "Doctor, you are probably wondering why I came here."

"It is true," was the reply, "I have been wondering."

That wonder was increased when Stanley said: "I came after you, nothing
else."

"After me!" exclaimed the now utterly bewildered man.

"Yes," said Stanley, "after you. I suppose you have heard of the New
York _Herald_?"

"Yes," said the doctor.

"Well, Mr. Bennett, son of the proprietor, sent me, at his own expense,
to find you."

Poor Livingstone could hardly comprehend the fact that an American, and
a stranger, should expend $25,000 to find him, a solitary Englishman.

Stanley lived now some four months in the closest intimacy with
Livingstone. Removed from all the formalities of civilized life--the
only two in that far-off land who could converse in the English
language, and who were of the same lineage and faith--their relations of
necessity became very intimate. All restraint was thrown off, and this
noble man poured into the astonished ears of Stanley all he had thought,
prayed for, endured and suffered for the last long five years. It was a
new revelation to his hearer. It opened up a new world; gave him a new
and loftier conception of what human nature is capable of attaining, and
he says: "I had gone over battle-fields, witnessed revolutions, civil
wars, rebellions, emeutes and massacres; stood close to the condemned
murderer to record his last struggles and last sighs; but never had I
been called to record anything that moved me so much as this man's woes
and sufferings, his privations and disappointments, which were now
poured into my ear. Verily did I begin to believe that 'the gods above
us do with just eyes survey the affairs of men.' I began to recognize
the hand of an overruling Providence."

After resting for a week, during which time Stanley became thoroughly
acquainted with Livingstone and learned to respect and love him more and
more, the former asked the doctor if he would not like to explore the
north end of the Tanganika Lake and among other things, settle the
question whether the Rusizi River flowed _into_ or _out_ of the lake.
The doctor gladly consented, and they set off in a canoe manned by
sixteen rowers. The weather was fine, the scenery charming, and it
seemed like floating through a fairyland. Day after day they kept
on--landing at night on the picturesque shores, undisturbed, except in
one or two instances, by the natives. The luxuriant banks were lined
with villages, filled with an indolent, contented people. With no wants
except food to eat, and the lake full of fish, they had nothing to
stimulate them to activity or effort of any kind.

[Illustration: VILLAGE ON TANGANIKA LAKE]

Islands came and went, mountains rose and faded on the horizon, and it
was one long holiday to our two explorers. As the rowers bent steadily
to their oars and the canoe glided softly through the rippling waters,
they spent the time in admiring the beautiful scenery that kept
changing like a kaleidoscope, or talking of home and friends and the
hopes and prospects of the future. A hippopotamus would now and then
startle them by his loud snort, as he suddenly lifted his head near the
boat to breathe, wild fowl skittered away as they approached, a sweet
fragrance came down from the hill-sides, and the tropical sky bent soft
and blue above them. The conventionalities of life were far away and all
was calm and peaceful, and seemed to Stanley more like a dream than a
reality. They were thus voyaging along the coast twenty-eight days,
during which time they had traversed over three hundred miles of water.

But at last the time came for Stanley to turn his footsteps homeward. He
tried in vain to prevail on Livingstone to go home with him, but the
latter, though anxious to see his children, resolutely refused, saying
that he must finish his work. He, however, concluded to accompany
Stanley as far as Unyanyembe, to meet the stores which had been
forwarded to that place for him from Zanzibar. On the 27th of December,
therefore, they set out by a new route. Nothing occurred in the long
journey of special interest, except the shooting of a zebra or a
buffalo, the meeting of a herd of elephants or giraffes, or a lion. It
was a tedious and toilsome journey, during which Stanley suffered from
attacks of fever, and Livingstone from lacerated feet. They were
fifty-three days on the march, but at last Unyanyembe was reached.
Stanley once more took possession of his old quarters. Here both found
letters and papers from home, brought by a recent caravan, and once more
they seemed put in communication with the outside world. Being
well-housed and provided with everything they needed, they felt
thoroughly comfortable.

The doctor's boxes were first broken open, and between the number of
poor articles they contained and the absence of good ones which had been
abstracted on the way, they proved something of a disappointment.
Stanley then overhauled his own stores, of which there were seventy-four
loads, the most valuable of which he intended to turn over to
Livingstone. These also had been tampered with; still many luxuries
remained, and they determined to have their Christmas dinner over again.
Stanley arranged the bill of fare, and it turned out grandly. But now he
saw that he must begin to prepare for his return to the coast, and so he
left Livingstone to write up his journal and to finish the letters he
was to send home. In overhauling the stores and making up the packages
he should need on his return route, he was able to select and turn over
to the doctor two thousand seven hundred and eighty-eight yards of
cloth, nine hundred and ninety-two pounds of assorted beads, three
hundred and fifty pounds of brass wire, besides bed, canvas boat,
carpenters' tools, rifles, revolvers, ammunition, cooking utensils and
various other articles of use, making in all about forty loads. These,
with the doctor's personal stores, made Livingstone quite a rich man for
Central Africa--in fact, he had a four years' supply.

At length the letters were all written, the loads strapped, and the next
day fixed for Stanley to turn his face homeward and Livingstone his to
the heart of Africa. At night the natives gave a great dance as a
farewell compliment, and a wild, weird dance it was. Bombay wore a
water-bucket on his head, while each carried or wore something grotesque
or dangerous. The first was a war dance, and when it ended, a second and
different one was started, accompanied by a chorus or song chanted in a
slow, mournful tone, of which the burden was "Oh-oh-oh, the white man is
going home."

That night as Stanley lay and pondered on the morrow, when he should see
the "good man" for the last time, he was filled with the keenest sorrow.
He had grown to love him like a father; and to see him turn back alone
to the savage life he must encounter in his great work, seemed like
giving him over to death.

It was a sad breakfast to which the two sat down next morning. But it
was over at last and the parting hour came.

"Doctor," said Stanley, "I will leave two men with you for a couple of
days, lest you may have forgotten something, and will wait for them at
Tura; and now we must part--there is no help for it--good-bye."

"Oh," replied Livingstone, "I am coming with you a little way; I must
see you off on the road;" and the two walked on side by side, their
hearts burdened with grief.

At last Stanley said: "Now, my dear doctor, the best friends must part,
you have come far enough, let me beg of you to turn back."

Livingstone stopped and, seizing Stanley's hand, said: "I am grateful to
you for what you have done for me. God guide you safe home and bless
you, my friend."

"And may God bring you safe back to us all, my friend," replied Stanley,
with a voice choked with emotion. "_Farewell._"

They wrung each other's hands in silence for a minute, and then Stanley
turned away to hide his tears, murmuring: "Good-bye, doctor; dear
friend, good-bye."

He would not have been the man he is, not to have been overcome at this
parting; alas, to be, as it proved, a final parting, so far as concerns
meeting again in this life. But this was not all--the doctor's faithful
servants would not be forgotten, and rushing forward, they seized
Stanley's hands and kissed them for their good master's sake. The stern
and almost tyrannical man, that neither danger nor suffering could
move, completely broke down under this last demonstration and could
recover himself only by giving the sharp order, MARCH! and he almost
drove his men before him, and soon a turn in the path shut out
Livingstone's form forever. Yes, forever, so far as the living, speaking
man is concerned, but shut out _never_ from Stanley's life. That one man
fixed his destiny for this world, and who knows but for the eternal
ages? No wonder that he said, long after, "My eyes grow dim at the
remembrance of that parting. For four months and four days I lived with
him in the same house, or in the same boat, or in the same tent, and I
never found a fault in him. I am a man of a quick temper, and often
without sufficient cause, I dare say, have broken ties of friendship;
but with Livingstone I never had cause of resentment, but each day's
life with him added to my admiration of him."

The caravan marched wearily back, meeting with nothing eventful till it
entered the Ugogo territory, where, owing to a misunderstanding on the
part of the natives, who got it into their heads that Stanley meant to
pass them without paying the accustomed tribute, a fight seemed
inevitable. Had it occurred, it is doubtful whether he or Livingstone's
papers would ever have been heard of again. But Stanley had seemed from
his infancy a child of destiny, and escaped here, as everywhere, by the
skin of his teeth. It was a constant succession of toilsome, painful
marches, even when the natives were friendly, while there was often a
scarcity of provisions. To secure these he, at last, when on the borders
of the wilderness of Marenga Mkali, dispatched three men to Zanzibar,
with a request to the consul there to send them back with provisions.
These messengers were told not to halt for anything--rain, rivers or
inundations--but push right on. "Then," says Stanley, "with a loud,
vigorous hurrah, we plunged into the depths of the wilderness which,
with its eternal silence and solitude, was far preferable to the
jarring, inharmonious discord of the villages of the Wagogo. For nine
hours we held on our way, starting with noisy shouts the fierce
rhinoceros, the timid quagga and the herds of antelopes, which crowd the
jungles of this broad Salina. On the 7th, amid a pelting rain, we
entered Mpwapwa, where my Scotch assistant, Farquhar, had died."

In twenty-nine days they had marched three hundred and thirty-eight
miles. Twelve miles a day, including stoppages and delays, was in such a
country rapid marching--nay, almost unparalleled; but Stanley had turned
his face homeward and could stand no African dilly-dallying on the way.
We cannot go into the details of this homeward march,--to-day startled
by a thousand warriors, streaming along the war-path,--to-morrow on the
brink of a collision with the natives, the end of which no one could
foresee, but the caravan pressed on until they came to the neighborhood
of the terrible Makata swamps, that Stanley had occasion so well to
remember. Heavy rains had set in, swelling all the streams and
inundating the plains, so that the marching was floundering through
interminable stretches of water. Now swimming turbulent rivers--now
camping in the midst of pestiferous swamps, and all the time drenched by
the rain, that fell in torrents--they struggled on until, at last, they
came to the dreaded Makata swamp itself. The sight that met them here
was appalling, but there was no retreat, and for long hours they toiled
slowly through, sometimes up to their necks in water, sometimes
swimming, and where it was shallow sinking in deep mire. They thus
fought their way on, and at last, weary, worn and half-starved, came to
the Makata River. But no sooner were they over this, than a lake six
miles wide stretched before them. The natives warned him against
attempting to cross it; but nothing could stop him now, and they all
plunged in.

He says: "We were soon up to our armpits, then the water shallowed to
the knee, then we stepped up to the neck and waded on tiptoe, until we
were halted on the edge of the Little Makata, which raced along at the
rate of eight knots an hour." Fierce and rapid as it was, there was no
course left but to swim it, and swim it they did. For a whole week they
had been wading and swimming and floundering through water, till it
seemed impossible that any one could survive such exposure, but, at last
they came to dry ground and to the famous walled city of the Sultana
Limbamwanni, which we described in his upward journey. But the heavy
rains that had inundated the whole country, had so swollen the river,
near the banks on which it was situated, that the water had carried away
the entire front wall of the town, and some fifty houses with it. The
sultana had fled and her stronghold had disappeared. All along the route
was seen the devastating power of the flood as it swept over the
country, carrying away a hundred villages in its course. The fields were
covered with débris of sand and mud, and what was a paradise when he
went in was now a desert. With the subsidence of the water the
atmosphere became impregnated with miasma, and the whole land seemed
filled with snakes, scorpions, iguanas and ants, while clouds of
mosquitoes darkened the air till life became almost intolerable. At
last, on May 2d, after forty-seven days of incessant marching, and
almost continual suffering, they reached Rosako, where, a few minutes
after, the three men he had sent forward arrived, bringing with them a
few boxes of jam, two of Boston crackers, and some bottles of champagne;
and most welcome they were after the terrible journey through the Makata
Valley. The last great obstacle (a ferry of four miles across a watery
plain) being surmounted, the caravan approached Bagomayo, and in their
jubilant excitement announced its arrival by the firing of guns and
blowing of horns, and with shouting hurrahs till they were hoarse. The
sun was just sinking behind the distant forests, from which they had
emerged and which were filled with such terrible associations, when they
entered the town, and sniffed with delight the fresh sea-breeze that
came softly stealing inland. The putrid air of the swamps, the poisonous
miasma that enveloped the entire country, were left far behind with want
and famine, and no wonder the heart was elated and their bounding joy
found expression in exultant shouts.

Happy in having once more reached civilization; happy in the thought of
his triumphant success; and still more happy in the joy that he believed
the good news he brought would give to others, Stanley's heart was
overflowing with kindness to all, and the world seemed bright to him.
But, in a moment it was all dashed on opening the papers at Zanzibar.
Scarcely one had a kind word for him; on the contrary, he found nothing
but suspicion, jealousy and detraction, and even charges of fabricating
the whole story of having found Livingstone. He was stunned at this
undeserved cruel reception of his declaration, and the faith in the
goodness of human nature, with which Livingstone had inspired him,
seemed about to give way before this evidence of its meanness and
littleness. He could not comprehend how his simple, truthful,
unostentatious story could awaken such unkind feelings, such baseless
slanders. It was a cruel blow to receive, after all that he had endured
and suffered. No wonder he wrote bitter words of the kid-glove
geographers, who criticized him, and the press that jeered at him. But
he has had his revenge, for he has triumphed over them all.

He immediately set to work to organize a caravan to send off to
Livingstone the things he had promised, and then started for home.

CHAPTER X.

STANLEY'S MAIN EXPEDITION.

Stanley, after he had found Livingstone, naturally thought much of the
latter's explorations. Africa had become to him an absorbing subject,
and he began to imbibe the spirit of Livingstone. This was natural, for
Stanley had already won fame there, and why should he not win still
greater laurels in the same field? This feeling was much increased after
the death of the great explorer, leaving his work unfinished, which
Stanley longed to complete. True, Cameron was on the ground to
accomplish this very object, but Stanley knew the difficulties one would
have to contend with without a boat of his own. The matter was talked
over a good deal, and finally the proprietors of the New York _Herald_
and London _Telegraph_ determined to send Stanley once more into Africa.

The vast lake region, embracing some six degrees of longitude, and
extending from the equator to fifteen degrees south latitude, had become
a region of the greatest interest to explorers. On this vast water-shed
lived a mighty population, and these lakes, with the rivers running into
and out of them, must furnish the roads to commerce and be the means by
which Africa should be lifted out of its barbarism into the light of
civilization.

The large lakes Nyassa and Tanganika had been more or less explored, but
the one possessing the greatest interest, the Victoria Nyanza--on
account of the general impression that it was the head of the Nile--was
almost wholly unknown. The persistence with which the Nile had mocked
all previous attempts to find its source, had imparted a mystery to it
and caused efforts to be made to unlock the secret, which were wholly
disproportioned to its seeming value or real importance. This lake,
therefore, was to be Stanley's first objective point. Livingstone, Speke
and Burton, and others had seen it--_he_ would sail around it in a boat
which he would take with him. This he had made in sections, so that it
could be carried the nearly one thousand miles through the jungles of
Africa to its destination.

Everything being completed he started on his route, and in the latter
part of 1874 found himself once more at Zanzibar, after an absence of
four years. Here, in organizing his expedition, he discovered that the
builder had made his boat, which he had christened the Lady Alice, a
great deal heavier than he had ordered; but he luckily found a man in
Zanzibar who was able to reduce its weight so that it could be
transported by the carriers. His force consisted in all, of a little
over three hundred men, and he took with him several powerful dogs.

The interest of this great expedition begins where he struck off from
the regular route of the caravans going west, and entered an entirely
new country and encountered a new race of people. Instead of moving
directly westward, he turned off to the north, and at length reached the
western frontier of Ugogo, on the last day of the year 1874. The country
at this point stretched before him in one vast plain, which some of the
natives said extended clear to Nyanza. He found that his course led him
along the extremity of Whumba, which he was glad to know, as he thought
his march would now be unmolested. Two days' march brought them to the
borders of Usandawa, a country abounding in elephants. Here he turned to
the north-west and entered Ukimbu or Uyonzi on its eastern extremity.
The guides he had hired in Ugogo to take him as far as Iramba here
deserted him. Hiring fresh ones, he continued two days in the same
direction, when these deserted him also, and Stanley found himself one
morning on the edge of a vast wilderness without a guide.

The day before, the guides had told him that three days' march would
bring him to Urimi. Relying on the truth of this statement, he had
purchased only two days' provisions. Thinking, therefore, that they
would be there by the evening of the next day, he thought little of the
desertion and moved off with confidence. But the next morning, the
track, which was narrow and indistinct at the best, became so
inextricably mixed up with the paths made by elephants and rhinoceros,
that they were wholly at a loss what course to take. Halting, Stanley
sent out men to seek the lost trail, but they returned unable to find
it. They then, of course, could do nothing but march by compass, which
they did.

As might be expected, it brought them, after a few hours' march, into a
dense jungle of acacias and euphorbias, through which they could make
their way only by crawling, scrambling and cutting the entangling vines.
Now pushing aside an obstructing branch--now cutting a narrow lane
through the matted mass, and now taking advantage of a slight opening,
this little band of three hundred struggled painfully forward toward
what they thought was open country, and an African village with plenty
of provisions.

In this protracted struggle the third night overtook them in the
wilderness, and there they pitched their lonely, starving camp. To make
it more gloomy, one of the men died and was buried; his shallow grave
seeming to be a sad foreboding of what awaited them in the future. The
want of provisions now began to tell terribly on the men, but there was
nothing to do but go forward, trusting to some break in this apparently
interminable wilderness. But human endurance has its limit, and
although Stanley kept his little force marching all day, they made but
fourteen miles. It was a continual jungle, with not a drop of water on
the route. The poor carriers, hungry and thirsty, sank under their loads
and lagged behind the main force for many miles, until it became a
straggling, weary, despondent crowd, moving without order and without
care through the wilderness. The strong endeavored to help the weak, and
did relieve them of their burdens and encourage them to hold on, so that
most of them were able to reach the camp at night. But in despite of all
effort five sick, despairing men, strayed from the path, which was only
a blind trail made by those in advance.

After the camp for the night was pitched, Stanley sent back scouts to
find the wanderers. They explored the woods for a mile each side of the
track, but only one man was found, and he fully a mile from the trail
and dead. The other four had wandered off beyond reach and were never
heard of more. This was getting to be fearful marching--five men in one
day was a death-roll that could not be kept up long, and Stanley began
to cast about anxiously to determine what step he should next take.
There was but one course left open to him, to attempt to retrace his
steps was certain death by famine, to advance could not be worse, while
it might bring relief, so "push on," was the order, and they did push
on, weary, thirsty, starving, and on the fifth day they came to a
little village recently established, and which consisted of only four
huts, occupied by four men with their wives and children. These had
scarcely provisions enough to keep themselves, and hence could give
nothing to Stanley's starving men. It was useless to attempt further
marching without food, for the men staggered into camp exhausted, and
would rather die there than attempt to move again.

Stanley's experience had taught him how far he could urge on these
African carriers and soldiers, and he saw they had now become desperate
and would not budge another inch until they had something to eat. He,
therefore, ordered a halt, and selecting twenty of his strongest men,
sent them off in search of food. They were to press on to a village
called Suna, about thirty miles distant, of which the natives told him,
and where they said food was in abundance. As soon as they had
disappeared in the forest, Stanley took his gun and strolled out in
search of game. But, filled as the country seemed with it, he could find
nothing to shoot. One of his men, however, came across a lion's den, in
which were two cubs, which he brought to Stanley. The latter skinned
them and took them back to camp. As he entered it, the pinched and worn
faces of his faithful men, as they sat hungry and despairing, moved him
so deeply that he would have wept, but for fear of adding to their
despondency. The two cubs would go but a little way toward feeding some
two hundred and twenty men, if cooked as ordinary meat, so he resolved
to make a soup of them, which would go much farther. But the question
was where to get a kettle large enough to make a soup for such a large
body of men.

Luckily, he bethought himself of a sheet-iron trunk which he had among
his baggage, and which was water-tight. He quickly dumped out of it its
contents, and filling it with water, set it over a fire which he had
ordered to be made. He then broke open his medical stores, and taking
out five pounds of Scotch oatmeal and three one-pound tins of _Revalenta
Arabica_, he made with it and the two young lions a huge trunk full of
gruel, that would give even two hundred and twenty men a good bowl
apiece. He said it was a rare sight to see those hungry, famished men
gather around that Torquay dress-trunk and pile on the fuel, and in
every way assist to make the contents boil, while with greedy eyes, with
gourds in their hands full of water, they stood ready to pour it in the
moment it threatened to boil over and waste the precious contents.
"But," he adds, "it was a rarer sight still to watch the famished
wretches, as, with these same gourds full of the precious broth, they
drank it down as only starving men swallow food. The weak and sick got a
larger portion, and another tin of oatmeal being opened for their
supper and breakfast, they awaited patiently the return of those who
had gone in quest of food."

Stanley's position now became painfully trying. He was five days' march
from where he could obtain food, if he attempted to go back. This march,
in the present condition of his men, they could never make, and if any
did survive, it would be on the terrible condition of the living eating
the dead.

The only hope lay in reaching supplies in advance. But what if those
twenty strong men he had sent on to find them never returned, having
been ambushed and killed on the way, or what if they, at the end of
several days, returned and reported nothing but an unbroken wilderness
and impassable jungle or swamps in front, and themselves famished, ready
to die? These were questions that Stanley anxiously put to himself and
dared not contemplate the answer. The hours of painful anxiety and
suspense, the maddening thoughts and wild possibilities that fire the
brain and oppress the heart in such crises as these cannot be imagined,
they can be known only by him who suffers the pangs they inflict. This
is a portion of the history of the expedition that Stanley can never
write, though it is written on his heart in lines that will never be
effaced.

The empty trunk lay on one side, and the night came down and the stars
burned bright and tranquilly above, and all was silent in the wide
solitude as Stanley sat and listened for the return of his men. But
they came not, and the morning broke and the sun rode the tropical
heavens once more in his splendor, but no musket-shot from the forest
told of the returning scouts. The weary hours wore on and the emaciated
men lay around in silent suffering. To Stanley those hours seemed days.
Night again darkened the forest and still no sign of the returning
party. Would they ever return? was the terrible question Stanley was
perpetually putting to himself, and if not, what desperate movement
should he attempt?

The third morning broke as calm and peaceful as the rest; he was
beginning to despair, when, suddenly, a musket-shot broke over the
forest, and then another and another, sending sudden life and activity
throughout the despairing camp. The men, as they emerged into view laden
with food, were greeted with a loud shout, and the hungry wretches fell
on the provisions they brought like ravening wolves. The report of
abundance ahead so excited the men that they forgot their feebleness and
clamored to be led on that very afternoon. Stanley was quite willing to
get away from the jungle, filled with such painful associations, and
cheerfully ordered the march, but before they could get away two men
breathed their last in the camp and were left to sleep alone in the
wilderness.

That night they encamped at the base of a rocky hill, from which
stretched away a broad plain. The hill, lifting itself into the clear
air, and the open plain, seemed like civilization compared with the
gloomy jungle in which they had been starving for the last two days, and
where they had left two of their number. They awoke next morning
cheerful and refreshed. Starting off with the prospect of abundant
provisions ahead, they made a steady march of twenty miles and reached
the district of Suna in Urimi.

Stanley was surprised, on entering the rude village, to see a new type
of African life. Men and women of great beauty and fine physical
proportions met his astonished sight. They stood before him in all their
naked beauty, unabashed: the women bearing children alone wearing a
covering of goat skins, designed evidently as a protection against
external injury, and not caused by any notions of modesty. Their fine
appearance seemed to indicate a greater mental development than any
other tribes which they had met. Whether this were so or not, it would
be difficult to tell, for they were the most suspicious, reserved people
Stanley had ever met, being greatly disinclined to barter provisions, of
which they had more than they wanted, for cloth and beads, of which they
apparently had none.

They had no chief, but seemed to be governed in their actions by the old
men. With these Stanley therefore treated for permission to pass
through their land. It required great tact to secure this, and still
more to obtain the required food. Stanley bore this silent hostility
patiently, for though he could have taken all he wanted by force, he
wished to avoid all violence. While lingering here, two more of his
exhausted company gave out and died, while his sick list swelled up to
thirty. Among the latter was Edward Pocoke, whom, with his brother,
Stanley had engaged in England to accompany him as attendants. This
compelled him to halt for four days, but finding that the hostile
feeling of the natives increased the longer he stayed, he determined,
dangerous as it was to the sick, especially to Pocoke, to leave.
Dysentery and diarrhoea were prevailing to an alarming extent, and rest
was especially necessary for these, if they hoped to recover; but he was
afraid matters would become dangerously complicated if he remained, and
he turned his soldiers into carriers and slung the sick into hammocks.
Encouraging them with the prospect of plenty and comfort ahead, he gave
the order to march, and they passed out and entered upon a clear, open
and well cultivated country. Reaching a village at 10 o'clock they
halted, and here, to the great grief of all, young Pocoke breathed his
last. In speaking of this sad event, which cast a gloom over the camp,
Stanley says: "We had finished the four hundredth mile of our march from
the sea and had reached the base of the water-shed, where the trickling
streams and infant waters began to flow Nile-ward, when this noble young
man died." They buried him at night under a tree, with the stars shining
down on the shallow-made grave; Stanley reading the burial service of
the Church of England over the body. Far from home and friends in that
distant lonely land he sleeps to-day, a simple wooden cross marking his
burial place. Stanley sent the following letter home to the young man's
father, describing his sickness and death:

     "KAGEHYI, ON THE VICTORIA NYANZA,
     "March 4th, 1875.

     "DEAR SIR: A most unpleasant, because sad, task devolves upon me,
     for I have the misfortune to have to report to you the death of
     your son Edward, of typhoid fever. His service with me was brief,
     but it was long enough for me to know the greatness of your loss,
     for I doubt that few fathers can boast of such sons as yours. Both
     Frank and Ted proved themselves sterling men, noble and brave
     hearts and faithful servants. Ted had endeared himself to the
     members of the expedition by his amiable nature, his cheerfulness,
     and by various qualifications which brought him into high favor
     with the native soldiers of this force.

     "Before daybreak we were accustomed to hear the cheery notes of his
     bugle, which woke us to a fresh day's labor; at night, around the
     camp-fires, we were charmed with his sweet, simple songs, of which
     he had an inexhaustible _répertoire_. When tired also with
     marching, it was his task to announce to the tired people the
     arrival of the vanguard at camp, so that he had become quite a
     treasure to us all; and I must say, I have never known men who
     could bear what your sons have borne on this expedition so
     patiently and uncomplainingly. I never heard one grumble either
     from Frank or Ted; have never heard them utter an illiberal remark,
     or express any wish that the expedition had never set foot in
     Africa, as many men would have done in their situation, so that you
     may well imagine, that if the loss of one of your sons causes grief
     to your paternal heart, it has been no less a grief to us, as we
     were all, as it were, one family, surrounded as we are by so much
     that is dark and forbidding.

     "On arriving at Suna, in Urimi, Ted came to me, after a very long
     march, complaining of pain in his limbs and loins. I did not think
     it was serious at all, nor anything uncommon after walking twenty
     miles, but told him to go and lie down, that he would be better on
     the morrow, as it was very likely fatigue. The next morning I
     visited him, and he again complained of pains in the knees and
     back, which I ascribed to rheumatism, and treated him accordingly.
     The third day he complained of pain in the chest, difficulty of
     breathing and sleeplessness, from which I perceived he was
     suffering from some other malady than rheumatism, but what it could
     be I could not divine. He was a little feverish, so I applied a
     mustard-plaster and gave him some aperient medicine. Toward night
     he began to wander in his head, and on examining his tongue I found
     it was almost black and coated with dark gray fur. At these
     symptoms I thought he had a severe attack of remittent fever, from
     which I suffered in Ujiji, in 1871, and therefore I watched for an
     opportunity to administer quinine--that is, when the fever should
     abate a little.

     "On the fourth day, the patient still wandering in his mind, I
     suggested to Frank that he should sponge him with cold water and
     change his clothing, during which operation I noticed that the
     chest of the patient was covered with spots like pimples or
     small-pox pustules, which perplexed me greatly. He could not have
     caught the small-pox, and what the disease was I could not imagine;
     but, turning to my medical books, I saw that your son was suffering
     from typhoid, the description of which was too clear to be longer
     mistaken, and both Frank and I devoted our attention to him. He was
     nourished with arrow-root and brandy, and everything that was in
     our power to do was done; but it was very evident that the case was
     serious, though I hoped that his constitution would brave it out.

     "On the fifth day we were compelled to resume our journey, after a
     rest of four days. Ted was put in a hammock and carried on the
     shoulders of four men. At 10 o'clock on the 17th of January, we
     halted at Chiwyn, and the minute he was laid down in the camp he
     breathed his last. Our companion was dead.

     [Illustration: BURIAL OF EDWARD POCOKE.]

     "We buried him that night under a tree, on which his brother Frank
     had cut a deep cross, and we read the beautiful service of the
     Church of England over him as we laid the poor worn-out body in its
     final resting-place so far from his own home and friends.

     "Peace be to his ashes. Poor Ted deserved a better fate than dying
     in Africa, but it was impossible that he could have died easier. I
     wish that my end may be as peaceful and painless as his. He was
     spared the stormy scenes we went through afterwards in our war with
     the Waturn: and who knows how much he has been saved from? But I
     know that he would have rejoiced to be with us at this hour of our
     triumph, gazing on the laughing waters of the vast fountain of the
     old Nile. None of us would have been more elated at the prospect
     before us than he, for he was a true sailor, and loved the sight of
     water. Yet again I say peace be to his ashes; be consoled, for
     Frank still lives, and, from present appearances, is likely to come
     home to you with honor and glory, such as he and you may well be
     proud of. Believe me, dear sir, with true sincerity, your
     well-wisher,

     "HENRY M. STANLEY."

Stanley still traveled in a northwest direction, and the farther he
advanced the more he was convinced that the rivulets he encountered
flowed into the Nile, and he became elated with the hope that he should
soon stand on the shores of the great lake that served as the head
reservoir of the mighty river.

Two days' march now brought them to Mongafa, where one of his men who
had accompanied him on his former expedition was murdered. He was
suffering from the asthma, and Stanley permitted him to follow the party
slowly. Straggling thus behind alone, he was waylaid by the natives and
murdered. It was impossible to ascertain who committed the deed, and so
Stanley could not avenge the crime.

Keeping on they at length entered Itwru, a district of Northern Urimi.
The village where they camped was called Vinyata, containing some two
thousand to three thousand souls, and was situated in a broad and
populous valley, through which flowed a stream twenty feet wide. The
people here received him in a surly manner, but Stanley was very anxious
to avoid trouble and used every exertion to conciliate them. He seemed
at last to succeed, for at evening they brought him milk, eggs and
chickens, taking cloth in exchange. This reached the ears of the great
man of the valley, a magic doctor, who, there being no king over the
people, is treated with the highest respect and honor by them. The next
day he brought Stanley a fat ox, for which the latter paid him twice
what it was worth in cloth and beads, besides making a rich present to
his brother and son. To all this man's requests Stanley cheerfully
consented in his anxiety to conciliate him and the natives.

That day, taking advantage of the bright sun to dry the bales and goods,
he exposed his rich stores, an imprudence which he very quickly deeply
regretted, for he saw that the display awoke all the greedy feelings of
the natives, as was evinced by their eager looks. But the day passed
quietly, and on the third morning the great man made his appearance
again and begged for more beads, which were given him and he departed
apparently very much pleased, and Stanley congratulated himself that he
would be allowed to depart in peace.

CHAPTER XI.

PRESSING TOWARDS THE INTERIOR.

For a half an hour after the magic doctor left, Stanley sat quietly in
his camp, his anxieties now thoroughly dissipated, thinking over his
speedy departure for the Nyanza. The camp was situated on the margin of
a vast wilderness, which stretched he knew not how far westward, while
away to the north, south and east extended a wide, open plain, dotted
over, as far as the eye could see, with villages. There were nearly two
hundred of them, looking is the distance like clusters of beehives.
Everything was peaceful, and not a sound disturbed the Sabbath-like
stillness of the scene, when there suddenly broke on his ears the shrill
war-cry, which was taken up by village after village till the whole
valley resounded with it. It was one loud "he-hu, he-hu," the last
syllable prolonged and uttered in a high, piercing note that made the
blood shiver. Still Stanley felt no alarm, supposing that some war
expedition was about to be set on foot, or some enemy was reported to be
near, and listened to the barbaric cry simply with curiosity. The men in
the camp kept about their usual avocations--some fetching water from a
neighboring pool, while others were starting off after wood--when
suddenly a hundred warriors appeared close to camp in full war costume.
Feathers of the eagle and other birds waved above their heads, "the mane
of the zebra and giraffe encircled their foreheads, their left hand held
the bow and arrows, while the right grasped the spear." Stanley arose,
and telling the men not to leave camp nor do anything to provoke a
hostile act, waited to see what this sudden warlike attitude meant.

In the meantime the throng increased till the entire camp was
surrounded. A slight bush fence had been built around it, which, though
it concealed those within, was too slight to be of use in case of an
attack. Seeing that this hostile demonstration was against _him_,
Stanley sent out a young man who spoke their language, to inquire what
they wanted. Six or seven warriors advanced to meet him, when a lively
conversation followed. The messenger soon returned and reported that
they accused one of the party of having stolen some milk and butter from
a small village, and they must be paid for it in cloth. He at once sent
the messenger back, directing him to tell the warriors that he did not
come into their country to rob or steal, and if anything had been taken
from them they had but to name the price they asked for it and it should
be paid at once. The messenger brought back word that they demanded four
yards of sheeting; although this was worth four times as much as the
articles were which they alleged had been stolen, he was very glad to
settle the matter so easily, and it was measured and sent to them. The
elders declared that they were perfectly satisfied, and they all
withdrew. But Stanley could not at once shake off the suspicion this
unexpected show of hostile feeling had excited, and he watched narrowly
the villages in the distance. He soon saw that the warriors were not
pacified if the elders were, for he could see them hurrying together
from all parts of the plain and gesticulating wildly.

Still he hoped the elders would keep them from any overt act of
hostility. While he was watching them, he saw about two hundred men
separate themselves from the main body, and taking a sweep, make for the
woods west of the camp. They had hardly entered when one of Stanley's
men rushed forth from the same vicinity into camp bleeding profusely
from his face and arms. He said that Suleiman (a youth) and he were
gathering wood when the savages came suddenly upon them. He was struck
with a stick that broke his nose, and his arm was pierced with a spear,
while Suleiman fell pierced with a dozen spears. His story and bloody
appearance so excited the soldiers that Stanley could with difficulty
restrain them from rushing out at once and attacking the murderers. He
did not yet despair of preventing an outbreak, but took care to open the
ammunition and be prepared for the worst. He saw at once that an
immensely large force could be brought against him, and he must fortify
himself or he would be overwhelmed by numbers, and so ordered the men
immediately to commence strengthening the fence. They had not been long