THE LAST FRONTIER 



M'booley was out to shake us by the hand in fare- 

 well, shivering in the cold of dawn. The flirtatious 

 and spoiled little beauties were not in evidence. 



One day after two very deep canons we emerged 

 from the forest jungle into an up and down country 

 of high jungle bush-brush. From the top of a ridge 

 it looked a good deal like a northern cut-over pine 

 country grown up very heavily to blackberry vines; 

 although, of course, when we came nearer, the "black- 

 berry vines" proved to be ten or twenty feet high. 

 This was a district of which Home had warned us. 

 The natives herein were reported restless and semi- 

 hostile; and in fact had never been friendly. They 

 probably needed the demonstration most native 

 tribes seem to require before they are content to 

 settle down and be happy. At any rate safaris were 

 not permitted in their district; and we ourselves were 

 allowed to go through merely because we were a 

 large party, did not intend to linger, and had a good 

 reputation with natives. 



It is very curious how abruptly, in Central 

 Africa, one passes from one condition to an- 

 other, from one tribe or race to the next. Some" 

 times, as in the present case, it is the traverr 

 sing of a deep canon; at others the simple cross- 

 ing of a tiny brook is enough. Moreover the 

 line of demarcation is clearly defined, as bow 



