PYGMIES OF THE ITURI FOREST 331 



Early one morning a long line of Momvu porters 

 slowly treaded their way to the tune of a doleful chant 

 as we penetrated farther and farther into the dark 

 depths of the great Ituri Forest. My provost guard 

 was heading the procession, while halfway down the 

 line, as sole passenger in a Kipoi chair, I swung between 

 the shoulders of four black giants, who repeatedly 

 shouted to those ahead to hurry onward, saying, 

 "Move faster, brothers, for has not the white master 

 said that he wishes to reach the Ifi clearing before the 

 day turns dark?" 



That morning the local Momvu chief had supplied 

 us with porters to carry ourselves and equipment into 

 the forest, and now the long safari was under way over 

 the lonely paths that wind for hundreds of miles 

 throught mysterious depths of tangled creepers and 

 trees that foreveiihide the sun. 



Often the trail was very narrow, while sometimes an 

 overhead archway of palms and ferns was formed. At 

 such places these big Momvu men had to crouch until 

 they were through the passage, for, although the foot- 

 way was well worn, it had been worn by httle feet 

 belonging to a sprightly dwarf, to whose passing the 

 vegetable tunnel offered no problem. 



These cool byways are always wet, the leaves drip- 

 ping moisture on to a boggy ground — a ground that 

 has been damp for ages. Creepers and moss cover the 

 trees, while through the decaying matter that carpets 

 the forest floor, ferns and flowers, toadstools and other 

 fungoid growths, twist and turn, ever strugghng 

 upwards. 



Many varieties of butterflies, big and little, and of 

 aU colors and designs, flew and fluttered in and about 



