THROUGH FRENCH UBANGI 53 



of an unshiny, dry, dead slug. They lay so thickly 

 on the ground that it was hard to avoid treading on 

 them, and disfigured the branches of the thick bush 

 as would the excrescences of a black fungus. Dis- 

 like of them deterred us more effectually from ex- 

 ploration than did the brambles that laid hold of 

 our hair and clothes, and wrung cries of pain from 

 our soldier gun - boy Kukaua. We pulled off our 

 shoes and stockings and sought refuge in the water, 

 where at least we were safe from seeing the perils 

 that surrounded us. We paddled to a depth that 

 made us deliciously wet, though the usual penalty 

 for nice things had to be paid when we scrambled 

 back with bare feet on to the burning hot, blister- 

 raising canoe. 



Daylight was on the wane as we paddled across 

 to Due on the mainland, and even as we left, geese, 

 duck, and heron winged their way to the lonely 

 island. The chief greeted us with the utmost cor- 

 diality, and, though he had taken the precaution of 

 denying the existence of cows, large calabashes of 

 milk soon appeared in obedience to our demands. 



We went up to the village, and found it built in 

 the usual Mundonng style — the variations consisting 

 in the number of inner rooms and in the degree of 

 dirt endured by its inhabitants, which in some cases 

 was very great. Goats and fowls had the freedom 

 of the compound, and a considerable number of horses 

 were stabled in the innermost chambers, where fires 

 were lit to save them from the murderous attack of 

 tsetse flies. Lumps of dung were plastered on the 

 house -walls to dry in the sun for use as fuel — 

 dried stalks of the dum palms being practically the 



