FAREWELL TO THE CONGO 



they would pay off the score on the next one who was 

 unfortunate enough to come that way. No matter who, 

 so long as he is white. 



At length I arrived at Wadelai, but before the chief 

 would take me across the river, I had to hand over to 

 him my old terai felt hat. He was a perfect specimen 

 of a land shark. 



Twenty minutes later I had left the Congo behind 

 and stood in Uganda territory. 



We could now breathe with a sense of safety so far 

 as hostility from the natives was concerned. Our 

 troubles were at an end at last. The Swahilis up at the 

 post house did their utmost to make me comfortable, 

 and the next day saw us on the road for Koba. At 

 Panyongo I found the canoe on our side, but the country 

 seemed to have been deserted. No answer came to my 

 gun signals, and we ventured to board the canoe, which 

 was minus a paddle, trusting that we should be able to 

 clutch at the overhanging trees by the bend below us 

 as we were carried down stream. This we succeeded in 

 doing, and forced a path through the bushes to the rest- 

 house which now lay in ruins. They had told me at 

 Wadelai that a fight had recently taken place between 

 the natives of the Uganda and Congo banks, close to 

 Panyongo, and I guessed that the evacuation of the 

 district was the outcome of some raid or other. 



We camped at Panyongo, on the afternoon of the 

 same day that we had left Wadelai. The next day we 

 pushed forward and rested at noon under the Big 

 Tree, resuming our journey in the evening by the light 

 of the moon. 



When approaching the river that runs from east to 

 west, about nine miles north of Koba, I saw a group of 

 tents pitched close to the path, and gathered that some 

 European was en route for Wadelai. At length we 

 arrived at the river's edge, and found it rushing with a 



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