Next day we stop at Lukoteia and take on board logs of wood and timber already worked into beams and posts for building. A little lower down is the old coffee plantation and close to it, tobacco is being grown. The river here is very wide and full of islands. To one of these we tie up and are at once attacked by millions of mosquitoes, who will not allow us to eat our dinner in peace. Fortunately I find an old pair of kid gloves and with my head covered with a silk handkerchief and my legs in high hunting boots, prepare for the onslaught. The mosquito here bites through duck trousers and socks with great ease, but his trunk cannot reach through the thickness of a sleeve of a coat and a flannel shirt, so with suitable clothes, one can gain a little peace, except for the constant humming round one's ears. A cigar or pipe is no protection at all, but the insects will not face the smoke of a wood fire. Since people cannot either, however, that is not much use. As it was, the few bites swelled up badly and completely upset the theory held by many, that after a few months in the Congo, the mosquito bite has no effect. It is some gratification--but not much--to think they only gained an extract of goat and chicken, instead of a solution of good juicy fresh meat. On the 29th we passed Yumbi and Bolobo. At the latter place great numbers of natives came to the beach to trade with our crew and black passengers who bought dried fish and kwanga. In the evening we reach Sandy Beach, opposite which, is _Lonely_. island so called because it is the last island on the river before it narrows to pass through what is known as the canal. Here the banks are flanked with hills which are a welcome sight after the dead level of the forest higher up.