HUNTING AND HUNTED IN BELGIAN CONGO 



expressed their astonishment at the boys' accounts of 

 our misfortunes from the start. 



We had to wander through swamp grass and densely 

 wooded country, where the conduct of its inhabitants 

 gave us from time to time fresh scares. One village 

 warned us against the next, and all sorts of alarming 

 tales were poured into my ears. 



" White man, you will be killed ; you are alone and 

 ill ; stay, for the people you will reach to-night are bad, 

 and they will kill you." 



Certain it was that at many of the villages I saw 

 large stocks of arrows and other weapons being made, 

 but my plight at times made me bold, and I would march 

 right into their midst. At first sullen countenances 

 would regard me and my small party searchingly ; 

 whispered conversations would be carried on aside by 

 small groups of warriors until they heard what had befallen 

 us, and then they would drop their tools and what not 

 and come to listen intently to the vivid account that 

 Juma was giving. 



"It is wonderful," they would say, " but you will 

 not reach the Nyanza." In this case they were referring 

 to the Nile, for natives call any large stretch of water 

 " Nyanza." 



At some villages, indeed, I was received kindly, and 

 food was offered freely, but at others I was painfully 

 aware that I was unwelcome. It must be remembered 

 that certain white men have visited villages with large 

 numbers of porters and have treated the natives with 

 unnecessary roughness if they did not bring sufficient 

 supplies of food up to the white man's camp. 



Probably the last white man seen here was a tyrant, 

 and stuck at nothing so long as he got his whims and 

 demands carried out, at the muzzle of his rifle if necessary. 

 Although it may have been years since the last white 

 man had visited some of the villages, it was certain that 



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