1 32 KUBAGA TO MHULI. 



which had adorned his estate to be cut down, so the chief charm 

 of the landscape now consists of an enormous straw fence ten 

 feet high, which surrounds Mreko's huts ! He himself, an old 

 acquaintance, came at once to welcome me, assigned us houses, 

 loaded us with sweet potatoes and bananas, and, at my request, 

 immediately sent off some of his people to inquire after my 

 missing loads. In two hours I received nearly all of them, 

 and before sunset I was in happy possession of them all. The 

 manioc plants I had brought with me had not suffered, but 

 the little coffee-trees were withered. The inhabitants of the 

 village, who knew me of old, brought me small presents of 

 bananas, eggs, and sweet potatoes, so that we could hold high 

 festival that day. As I was to be provided with fresh porters 

 here, three days slipped by, as I had foreseen they would, before 

 we could even dream of collecting the men. I utilised the 

 hours which were free from rain by hunting and collecting, for 

 both of which pursuits this district is exceptionally well suited. 

 A visit to Mreko's hut, a nocturnal expedition, during which a 

 quantity of beautiful white honey was obtained from a hollow 

 tree, and the arrival of messengers from Mtesa bearing curious 

 letters from him, made the time pass quickly. One of my 

 Wanyoro porters disappeared soon after my arrival ; his rela- 

 tions are said to live in the neighbourhood, and it was generally 

 believed that he ran away to join them, but I did not believe 

 this story. 



At last, on Monday, Mreko's big drum brought the porters 

 together, and half an hour later we were on our way, this 

 time in possession of all our luggage. Shortly before our 

 departure, Matongali Kasamiriri arrived from Rubaga with 

 friendly letters from Hamis-ben-Halfan and Mesaud-ben- 

 Salimin, chiefs of the Zanzibar colony in Uganda. Many 

 sweet-scented mimosas, with splendid red blossoms, and quan- 

 tities of euphorbias grew on the low grass, but the day's 

 journey was again impeded by much water and mud. Real 

 acacia woods are to be found here, which, on account of their 

 light foliage and their many bare branches full of white thorns, 

 appeared from a distance as if shrouded in mist. 



The miserable little village of Demba, quite close to Mreko's 

 zeriba, was chosen for our halting-place, in order to give the 



