On the following day, messengers came from Kapeni, regarding men of his that had been with us, and who were believed to have been taken prisoners. Some of Kumlomba’s villagers were supposed to be captured also. We heard, too, that Mityoche’s men had become afraid, and deserted his village. They had all fled, it was said, to the top of a hill. Next day, Mr. Walker set out to effect a union with Mr. Buchanan, to see after prisoners, and do all he could to smooth matters. He had little doubt he would be successful in getting things peacefully arranged; the natives, he said, would come and say chonde! chonde! (please, please). I mentioned to him that in the event of any difficulty it would be better to go on to Zomba directly. He took with him the two best interpreters that were at Blantyre, and said he would be able to get on with their aid. I urged that if there were any further difficulties he should first see Mr. Buchanan and Bismark. This party, however, got into a fight. When they came back, I was told that Mityoche’s people had met them; Kumlomba, the Blantyre headman, got a severe wound below the knee, and one of Mityoche’s men was killed, while another was believed to be wounded in the leg. Poor Kumlomba had to be carried back, and was taken to a hut out in the fields, in anticipation of death. When a bullet breaks a piece of bone, the case is by the natives considered hopeless. But under English treatment Kumlomba gradually recovered. Mityoche after this last adventure, lived for a long time on a hill—as the natives always do in times of trouble. When Kumlomba heard, in two months after, that Mityoche had returned and “was eating porridge” at his own village, he thought it was a great scandal! He would have eagerly gone to attack him. The natives take a strange pleasure in war—which reminds one of the ancient days when the women chanted in the cities, “Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.”