After all are in the boat one man pushes it off with his pole—the others meanwhile watching the operation. As soon as the boat is clear of the bank, the current begins to carry it back over last day’s track; when it occurs to them to get their paddles. One man who had left his paddle at the other side of the boat calls for it; another begins to search; while the rest await the result with the most exemplary patience. By and by, another boatman finds that the paddle he has is not the one that he used last day, and a great search is instituted by his companions, who are duly waited for. The poor traveller will now ask whether the captain is going down to Mazaro, and this question produces the desired effect, for the captain begins to charge all and sundry in accents of thunder. But though the paddles are all plied with the utmost strength, little progress is made against the rapid current. The great hope of the boatmen is to keep close to the bank; if reeds grow there, they can pull the boat along by laying hold of them; or, if the bank is clear, they can land and draw the boat by means of a long rope. Another thing that helps them is the shallow water. There they make wonderful speed. They have long poles which reach the bottom of the river, and propel the boat very effectively; the boat becomes a kind of land animal and may be described as walking along on these legs. Such walks along the sandbanks are by far our happiest times. The only drawback is that they will come to an end; and what will the end be? Sometimes we find ourselves in places so shallow that the boat touches the bottom. While we were coming down stream this was the cause of much delay, the force of the current having often carried the boat far along the sandbank before we could stop; and then we stuck fast for a long time. But now that the current is against us, we never get so much involved. Yet we become fixed again and again, and the boatmen all get out (notwithstanding the risk of crocodiles) to drag and push till we find deeper water. By and by, the water is too deep for the poles to touch the bottom, and the men debate which bank to make for. Much time is wasted in the discussion. But after their resolution is formed, something like determination is seen in their faces as they make for the bank of their choice. They ply their little paddles with all their might. On our first journey up, the crew were equipped with oars, but these had been taken away during the war between the Natives and the Portuguese, and the paddles which have taken their place are not nearly so powerful implements. Still the men now use them with a will—there is no doubt as to their earnestness now. They advance very well, and soon reach the very centre of the current. “Now pull, pull, pull with all your might, pull as for your very lives! there!” The man who was wounded by the hippopotamus is at the helm, because he is too ill to be anywhere else. Of course he has never been at a helm before. The