116 To Srtnga-Tanga and Back. 
Nche Mpolo lies some three miles nearly due 
south of Mbatd; the single street contains fourteen 
cottages and two palaver houses. We were re¬ 
ceived with distinction by “ Young Princes’’ 
daughter, a huge young woman, whose still huger 
mamma was from Cape Lopez. She placed mats 
upon the bamboo couch under the verandah, 
brought water to wash our feet, and put the kettle 
on that we might have tea. The sun was fiery 
and the day sultry; my companions complained of 
fatigue after a two hours’ walk, and then busied 
themselves ostentatiously in cleaning their muskets, 
in collecting provisions, and in appointing certain 
bushmen to meet us on the morrow. Before dark 
Hotaloya returned to his village, declaring that he 
could find no bed at his papa’s. Probably the 
uxorious youth had been ordered home by his pet 
wife, who had once lived with a European trader, 
who spoke a few words of English, and who cooked 
with peculiar skill,—the solid merits of a “ superior 
person.” 
At dawn on the 23rd we set out for the southern 
bush, Selim, Forteune, and a carrier Kru-man—to 
carry nothing. We passed through a fresh 
clearing, we traversed another village (three 
within five miles !), we crossed a bad bridge and a 
clear stream flowing to the south-east, and pre¬ 
sently we found ourselves deep in the dew-dripping 
forest. The leaves no longer crackled crisp under 
