FAREWELL TO THE CONGO 



disguise the fact. Our guide, who was named M'weri, 

 brought us to a village in the south-west about seven in 

 the evening, and here again great interest was displayed 

 in us ; indeed, I was closely inspected by all and sundry. 

 They could not understand how it was that the arrow 

 had not finished me. 



Can you picture our camp that evening, as I sat out- 

 side the little grass hut which the boys had erected for me 

 among some huge gnarled trees garlanded with creepers ? 

 Our fire blazed away merrily. The fires in the village 

 a hundred yards or so off lit up the people as they 

 danced and shuffled their feet to the accompaniment of 

 rumbling drums, piping whistles, and the shouts of 

 men, women, and children. Individual performances 

 were given incessantly, the glare of the flames lighting 

 up the diabolical features and glittering metal ornaments 

 of the natives who sat under the eaves of their huts 

 clapping their hands in time with the music. In the 

 background a number of tall trees and broad-leafed 

 palms hung over the roofs of the houses, insects droned, 

 and the mosquitoes buzzed and bit under the starry 

 heavens. It was typical of what one may see in any 

 village in the African wilds. Eventually the performers 

 grew tired and settled down to sleep, but there was little 

 rest for me that night. I could not shake off the idea 

 that we might be followed. When the wind stirred the 

 trees I would look out into the darkness, expecting to 

 see the faces of our enemies, but nothing came save the 

 shrill shriek of a prowling hyaena. The weird cry of an 

 owl that settled in a tree close by added to the eerie 

 feeling which came over me in my loneliness in this out- 

 of-the-world spot. 



Salem kept the fire going, and every now and then 

 spoke in a subdued voice of the events of the day as he 

 squatted on the ground, wrapped up in his blanket, 

 watching a number of sticks stuck in the ground with 



241 R 



