1866.] THE SEPOYS' TIGEES. 75 



since we passed Matawatawa, — true, a fowl was given by 

 Mtende. The last march was remarkable for the scarcity 

 of birds, so eight days were spent on porridge and rice 

 without relish. 



I gave Mataka a trinket, to be kept in remembrance of 

 his having sent back the Nyassa people : he replied that 

 he would always act in a similar manner. As it was a 

 spontaneous act, it was all the more valuable. 



The sepoys have become quite intolerable, and if I cannot 

 get rid of them we shall all starve before we accomplish what 

 we wish. They dawdle behind picking up wild fruits, and 

 over our last march (which we accomplished on the morn- 

 ing of the eighth day) they took from fourteen to twenty- 

 two days. Eetaining their brutal feelings to the last they 

 killed the donkey which I lent to the havildar to carry his 

 things, by striking it on the head when in boggy places 

 into which they had senselessly driven it loaded ; then the 

 havildar came on (his men pretending they could go no 

 further from weakness), and killed the young buffalo and 

 eat it when they thought they could hatch up a plausible 

 story. They said it had died, and tigers came and devoured 

 it — they saw them. " Did you see the stripes of the tiger?" 

 said I. All declared that they saw the stripes distinctly. 

 This gave us an idea of their truthfulness, as there is no 

 striped tiger in all Africa. All who resolved on skulking or 

 other bad behaviour invariably took up with the sepoys ; 

 their talk seemed to suit evil-doers, and they were 

 such a disreputable-looking lot that I was quite ashamed 

 of them. The havildar had no authority, and all bore 

 the sulky dogged look of people going where they were 

 forced but hated to go. This hang-dog expression of 

 countenance was so conspicuous that I many a time have 

 heard the country people remark, " These are the slaves of 

 the party." They have neither spirit nor pluck as com- 

 pared with the Africans, and if one saw a village he turned 



