CHAP. VII DELUSIVE PROSPECTS OF PEACE 117 



path had been worn by the feet of many generations into a 

 hollow, that served as a channel for a sluggish stream often 

 3 feet in depth. But having to wade along this did not 

 lessen our sense of the welcome coolness of the shade. The 

 paths became more numerous, and, after a long wade — which 

 was rendered even less pleasant than usual by the odour that 

 arose as our feet churned up the slimy ooze at the bottom — 

 the ground began to rise, and I guessed that we were approach- 

 ing the river. A stream 3 feet wide was jumped by all 

 except the fat boy, who preferred to wade, and was in conse- 

 quence knocked over by the current, which was rushing down 

 like a mill-race ; but I was too excited to stop and help him, 

 and shouting to the others to take care of the rifle, I walked 

 quickly up the path through the wood. A family of monkeys 

 fled screaming through the trees, a green parrot shrieked its 

 shrillest in rage at being disturbed from its midday nap, and 

 flew across the river. A few steps more and a sharp turn in 

 the path brought me to the steep bank of the Nyuki. On the 

 opposite side was a cluster of beehive huts, densely grouped 

 in the shade of some lofty acacias, and protected by a strong 

 double thorn stockade. It was the village of Njemps Mdogo. 

 The river ran swiftly in a deep channel that it had cut through 

 the red sandy alluvium. A fallen tree formed a rude bridge a 

 little distance up stream, and I preferred to scramble across its 

 slippery trunk and through its irregular branches, rather than 

 to cross the ford opposite the village. I paused for a minute 

 on the bridge ; for a water-snake was gracefully wriggling up 

 the river, and the temptation was irresistible to flatten a revolver 

 bullet on the head of a crocodile that was basking on the 

 bank. As it was two o'clock in the afternoon, no one was 

 about ; an air of drowsy peace and security seemed to rest 

 upon the village, as about an English hamlet on a summer 

 Sunday afternoon. So with visions of a week of rest, with a 

 rich harvest of precious specimens to be gathered in the day- 

 time, and unbroken sleep at night, I walked gaily up the path 

 to the low narrow gateway, and fired off a couple of shots to 

 announce my arrival. A native crawled along the passage cut 

 through the otherwise impenetrable hedge of thorns to see who 

 I was. He was a tall Njcmpsian, with a breadth of shoulder 

 that told of former fine physique ; but he was terribly emaciated. 



