DOWN THE CONGO TO THE ATLANTIC. 
439 
“ Bo-bo-bo’s ” above, we thought, as with one mind we 
rose to respond to this rabid man-eating tribe. Anger 
we had none for them. It seemed to me so absurd to 
be angry with people who looked upon one only as an 
epicure would regard a fat capon. Sometimes also a 
faint suspicion came to my mind that this was all but a 
part of a hideous dream. Why was it that I should be 
haunted with the idea that there were human beings who 
regarded me and my friends only in the light of meat ! 
Meat ! We ? Heavens ! what an atrocious idea ! 
KING OP CHUMBIRI. 
“ Meat ! Ah ! we shall have meat to-day. Meat ! 
meat ! meat ! ” 
There was a fat-bodied wretch in a canoe, whom I 
allowed to crawl within spear-throw of me ; who, while 
he swayed the spear with a vigour far from assuring to 
one who stood within reach of it, leered with such a 
clever hideousness of feature that I felt, if only within 
arm’s length of him, I could have bestowed upon him a 
hearty thump on the back, and cried out applaudingly, 
“ Bravo, old boy ! You do it capitally ! ” 
