THE PARTY. 



175 



small party, which, demands a few words of in- 

 troduction to the reader — it is the typical affair in 

 this part of Africa, and the sketch may he useful 

 to future travellers. We have four slave hoys, 

 idle, worthless dogs, who never work save under 

 the rod, who think of nothing beyond their sto- 

 machs, and who are addicted to running away 

 upon all occasions. Petty pilferers to the hack- 

 hone, they steal, magpie-like, by instinct, and from 

 their impudent fingers nothing is safe. On the 

 march they lag behind to see what can be ' prig- 

 ged,' and not being professional porters, they are 

 as restive as camels when receiving their loads. 

 ' Am I not a slave ? ' is their excuse for every de- 

 tected delinquency, and we must admit its full 

 validity. One of these youths happening to be 

 brother-in-law — after a fashion — to the Jemadar, 

 reqmres almost superhuman efforts to prevent him 

 loading the others with his own share. 



The guide, Muigni Wazira, is a huge broad- 

 shouldered, thick-waisted, large-limbed Msawa- 

 hili, with coal black skin and straight features, 

 massive and regular, which look as if cut in jet ; 

 a kind of face that might be seen on the keystone 

 of an arch. He frowns like the Jann spoken 

 of in the Arabian Nights, and he often makes me 

 wish for a photographer. He is purblind, a de- 



