168 
THE KILIMANJARO EXPEDITION. 
usually late to write my diary, I heard knocks at the 
door, and men saying, 44 Hodi, hodi ? 55 (“Hodi” is 
a polite Swahili term, somewhat equivalent to 44 May I 
come in ? ”) Yirapan, my servant, opened and admitted 
Mabruki Majera and Ali Masi, Kiongwe’s two messen¬ 
gers. They told me the news in hurried gasps and 
with a little natural exaggeration. Amazed and in¬ 
dignant that my men should be in danger from savages 
whom I had never knowingly harmed, I hurried on my 
things, and, in my impetuosity, was about to dash off 
with a few men to Kiongwe’s assistance. But the more 
prudent of my followers counselled a wiser course. 
They represented that in the dark night I might either 
lose my way or break my leg in some unseen pitfall, or 
else tumble unprepared on the hidden enemy, who might 
despatch me in the darkness without even the chance 
of knowing I was white, and superior to the common 
run of men. At any rate, they advised that we should 
first apprise Mandara of our predicament, and seek 
counsel and assistance from him. Accordingly I 
immediately started for Mandara’s, and had quite 
enough experience on the way of the difficulties and 
dangers of a mountain track on a dark night to be 
thankful I had followed my men’s advice, and not 
sought the foe under these disadvantageous condi¬ 
tions. 
We found Mandara—I had sent a messenger on ahead 
—seated with a company of his warriors under the 
large open shed in which he ordinarily received visitors 
or transacted business. He looked rather blinky, 
having but recently left his slumbers, but on my entry 
checked a huge yawn, and beckoned me, with a wan 
smile, to take a seat by his side. His warriors were 
squatting round blazing fires, stretching their hands 
