After breakfast we set out again on the march, and continued until the heat of the sun began to be oppressive, when we rested for lunch, continuing our journey afterwards through further stretches of most beautiful scenery. Three days’ march from Wagombi’s we came to the village of the Wanderobo, who had been warned of our coming by messengers sent on ahead of the caravan. They gave us a friendly welcome, but it was evident that they were a very timid people, and I was convinced that, had Olomondo not been with me, I should never have come in contact with them, as they would certainly have kept out of my way entirely. They seemed a bit scared at seeing so many of my followers, but the chief assured them that there was no cause for alarm. Their kraal was a very primitive affair, being simply a lean-to shed, without the slightest attempt at privacy—all the married men and their wives occupying one portion, and the young men and girls another—while I found them the laziest and dirtiest people I had ever met. They will not go out hunting until they are absolutely starving, and when they have killed some big animal, they simply gorge themselves on it, sitting round it, and never leave the spot until every scrap of the meat has been devoured. I was to have an early example of this practice. I had brought with me ten big bullocks, and, as these people had a fair amount of ivory, they were able to buy the whole lot. To my surprise, no sooner had they got the bullocks into their possession than they killed the whole ten at once, and fires having been lighted, a circle of savages gathered round each bullock, and, as it cooked, cut off huge strips of the flesh and ate them, not moving away until each bullock had been absolutely disposed of. A more disgusting spectacle I never witnessed. They live entirely on meat, but have a drink which they make from the wild honey. A remarkable thing in connexion with this honey is that they are often shown where to find it by following a bird, which they call the honey bird. One day, when out hunting, I noticed a small bird of a brownish colour, not much larger than a sparrow, which was twittering on a bush close at hand. Presently it flew towards me, twittering overhead, and afterwards alighted on a tree, still twittering, and the Wanderobo began to talk to it. I had heard of the honey bird before, but this was the first time that I had seen one, and I was very much interested. The natives continued to talk to it, and when it began to fly again, they followed it as it went twittering along, keeping just a little in advance of us, for perhaps a couple of miles, until we came to a hollow tree, where it stopped, and the Wanderobo, saying that we should find some honey there, began chopping the tree away until they found a considerable store of wild honey. After taking the honey out, they gave a certain quantity to the bird—or rather, left some in the tree for it,