A Thousand Miles in a Machilla 



a frequent occurrence would have given us an 

 excellent camping-ground. 



We sent the guide who had brought us from 

 Malamas back to look for Maso, and to tell him to 

 engage more porters, if necessary, and to push on. 

 We were beginning to get very anxious about the 

 non-appearance of our trunk. The guide, who 

 wore a red fez, was an intelligent native, and had 

 been in touch with civilization. He was promised 

 a good reward if he returned with Maso and our 

 box. 



The chief came to see us, and A questioned 



him as to the length of the next day's march and 

 the water which might be expected along the route : 

 an important consideration, as the days were getting 

 hot. For the first time, however, he experienced 

 some difficulty in getting reliable information; and 

 all he could gather for certain was that there was 

 water in the Lulimala, distant by the map about 

 twenty miles, and that this river would have to be 

 our objective. He therefore asked for a good local 

 guide to take us there. 



The difficulty as regards information increased 

 as we moved southwards. We were now entering 

 a district in which the natives were not only of low 

 type, with intellects singularly undeveloped, but 

 they had also apparently but little intercourse with 

 their neighbours, at least it was to this we attributed 

 their very defective knowledge of time, distance, 

 and state of the tracks. They lied freely, of course, 

 but cross-examination tended to show that they lied 

 as much from ignorance as from intention. 



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