BETWEEN ANGOLA AND THE ZAMBESI. 
467 
the first time became conscious of the sound of other 
human voices mixed with that laughter so peculiar to 
the blacks, and looking towards the door I discovered 
my faithful followers Augusto and Manuel who, on 
hearing the discussion, had softly approached, with the 
rest of my men in the rear, and now, armed with 
their guns, were keeping guard at the entrance, and 
heartily enjoying the scene. Verissimo then, in a con¬ 
fidential tone, informed my host and his companions 
that they had better retire and not say a word to 
arouse my anger, for that if I should put myself in a 
rage again he would not answer for the consequences, or 
be able perhaps to save their lives, as he had done 
awhile ago. They lost no time in 
taking his advice and filed off, one 
behind the other, in the utmost 
silence. But for Verissimo’s knock¬ 
ing up my arm in the way he did 1 
should have killed the chief, and in 
the position in which we then stood 
we should in all probability have 
been massacred to a man. In saving 
my host’s life, he had therefore saved 
the lives of us all. 
The excitement occasioned by this 
last adventure so increased the fever within me, that 
when the place was cleared of my visitors I dropped in 
a state of utter exhaustion upon the skins which, spread 
in a corner of the hut, served me by way of bed. My 
faithful blacks stretched themselves across the door and 
told me to sleep in peace, as they would watch over my 
safety. On three different occasions, therefore, within 
four days had my life been in jeopardy. First, in my 
encounter with the buffalo in the Huambo ; secondly, in 
the forcible entrance into Chacaquimbamba’s village ; 
and thirdly, in the adventure of that evening. After 
a short and broken sleep I awoke to the sounds of a 
tempest that was raging violently outside. As I lay, I 
turned over in my mind the events of the few hours 
before, and did not derive much comfort or tranquillity 
2 h 2 
WOMAN OF THE SAMBO. 
