NORTH-WESTERN RHODESIA 23 



a delightful shooting country, with broad green 

 " dambos " or clearings lying amidst a thin- 

 leafed forest. Rivulets coursed through rich 

 green grass, and in the morning the first majesty 

 of the sun fell on a myriad of little dewdrops 

 and made them glisten like jewels in the regalia 

 of a king. Birds chirped, and soft breezes sighed 

 and sobbed through the tree-tops. At night I 

 pitched my wandering tent in native villages and 

 listened to the pagan music of the simple savages 

 who surrounded me, Walonga and Walenje. 



No one who has witnessed it can ever forget 

 the solemn glory of a moonlight night in these 

 forest lands which cover so much of Africa north 

 of the Zambesi — and, be it remembered, true 

 Africa only begins w^hen the waters of the great 

 mother-river of the south have been crossed. 

 On such a night I was camped at Luvembe's 

 village in the Walonga country, and as I puffed 

 silently at my pipe and the full splendour of the 

 mellow light of the moon mingled with the glow 

 of the camp-fires, I listened to the shouts of the 

 children of the continent squatting all around me 

 — the happiest race of mankind. There was an 

 abundance of meat in camp, for that morning 

 I had shot a Sing Sing water-buck and a harte- 

 beeste, and long strips of flesh were smoking 

 over each pile of blazing logs. Presently my 

 " capitao," or headman — a cheerful old fellow 

 who hailed from the Zambesi — approached me 

 and asked if I objected to a dance being held. I 

 readily acquiesced, and after the necessary pre- 

 liminaries had been arranged and a little space 

 had been cleared of wood, skins and cooking- 

 pots between the camp-fires, I sauntered over 

 to watch the proceedings. And never have I 

 gazed on a more curious sight, or one more 



