VIVT TO ISANGILA. 69 
rounded, as are most Congo hamlets, by splendid forest 
trees and well-kept plantations. Before we entered it the 
path wound through many fields of manioc (which gives 
the edible root so largely consumed in these regions), and 
in these fields women, who are cleaning the weeds away 
with strongly made native hoes, look up and scream to 
one another, “ Mundele, mundele,’ and disperse with 
shrieks of frightened laughter. The little wondering 
children forget to follow their mothers in their astonish- 
ment, and stand gazing at me, open-mouthed with awe, 
as I pass, but when I stop to pat, with kindly meant 
gesture, their little dolichocephalic shaven pates, their 
terror finds tongue, and they burst into prodigious roars 
of agonised fright, rushing with little pattering feet over 
the newly-tilled beds, never daring to look behind at the 
white bogey, nor to stop till they are in their mothers’ 
protecting arms, where they are received with laughing 
sympathy. ‘The chief of Nguvi Mpanda stops us as we 
pass his verandah, under which he sits smoking with the 
village notables, and proffers palm-wine with hospitable 
insistance ; which I do not like to decline, so I hastily 
quaff the freshly drawn “ malafu” from a narrow-necked 
gourd and then tramp on again behind the men through 
more plantations of manioc, ground-nuts, and Indian corn, 
till we arrive at another village, with another hospitable 
chief, this time wearing a very bushy beard and moustache. 
However, if we are to reach the river Loa that night, 
where the first camp is fixed, there is no time to dally on 
the road, so we hurry on, waving aside, with deprecating 
thanks, all offers of palm-wine which, as a beverage, palls 
with constant repetition. Then the winding path—wind- 
ing for no apparent reason but the innate tendency of 
men to walk in curves—becomes disagreeably rocky, all 
sharp stones and sudden descents; then a little bit of 
marsh intervenes, and so we are in the valley of the Loa, 
or in the valleys, rather, for cafions and ravines intersect 
the hills in all directions. 
It is not a beautiful country hereabouts. It looks 
seared and yellow on the hillsides, and spotted with un- 
