56 UNDER THE AFRICAN SUN 



subjection and reported to be hostile. He replied that it 

 might be dangerous for any other white man to try, but not 

 for him, as he had already once visited the country, and 

 although it was only at a frontier village, that he had made 

 blood-brotherhood with a chief. The porters he selected were 

 picked men, some of the best of the porters with whom I had, 

 only a short while previously, arrived from the coast. Little 

 did I reckon, when we shook hands and said good-bye, that 

 it was the last I should see of him, and that he was another 

 about to meet with a violent death. 



He was very proud of his little garden at Mumia's. More 

 than once he had generously supplied my table with a dish of 

 green vegetables, and his last words to me were that he had left 

 instructions with his gardener to supply me out of his garden 

 until he returned. He told me that he hoped to be back in 

 a fortnight. 



The next news we heard was brought by a few survivors 

 of his caravan, covered with ghastly wounds which I had to 

 treat. According to them. West was received with apparent 

 friendship by his so-called blood-brother. He then sent off 

 some of his men to the surrounding villages to purchase various 

 tusks of ivory said to be for sale. West felt so secure, that he 

 tied up all his rifles inside his tent. Without any provocation 

 on his part, and simply prompted by lust of blood and plunder, 

 the treacherous natives one night fell upon him and his caravan, 

 and massacred all but a very (e\v. Poor West ! He was down 

 with illness at the time, and they thrust their spears through 

 the tent and speared him where he lay on his bed. The black 

 woman who had been West's faithful and intelligent helpmate 

 for many a long year was speared by his side. The savages 

 carried off everything, but the naked bodies of the slaughtered 

 were left to be devoured by hyaenas. 



A curious sequel to this story I heard many months after- 

 wards. It was on my return journey to the coast. I was 

 asked, by one of the officials I met, to take along with me to 

 the coast a man who professed to have belonged to the late 

 Mr. West's caravan and who said he had only now succeeded 

 in making his escape from the hands of the Wanandi. 



Wlien I saw the man, I at once recognised him as " Bom- 

 bom," one of my Wanyamwezi porters who had accompanied 

 West's ill-starred caravan. The man, of course, knew me too, 



