In the morning we were startled by hearing voices not far off, and as we listened we recognised them as belonging to natives of the village we had left. Yes, they had awakened to find us gone; and now a search party was out scouring the forest in every direction for signs of us. We dared not move nor speak, and how anxious we were that the child should not cry! Nearer and nearer came the voices till they sounded almost close at hand, and then they receded gradually, and at last died away in the distance. We were nearly caught, but not quite! After waiting for some time, we went out to look round, and on the main road we traced the footprints of our pursuers distinctly; they had passed our footpath by, and so we escaped recapture. From now onwards we had to keep to bypaths, sometimes cutting our way through dense forest, spending our nights under fallen trees or on the ground, hungry and weary; but in spite of all our difficulties we reached the river bank at last. We were still far from home, but once on the other bank we would at least be safe from pursuit. Our people have a proverb, “Nta fendaka ntandu la mposa e’ola”—that is, “You cannot cross the river by means of a thirst for home.” This is certainly a true saying, so we had to seek for a canoe to take us over. One of our party set out along the bank to see if there were any moored there, as people often go out fishing and leave their canoes with no one to look after them. This was our hope, and it was fulfilled. Not far away was found a canoe with paddles in it, and no sign of the owners. We determined to watch it until sundown, and then, if no one appeared, to take it and set out. For the remainder of that day we rested, and sought for some food to stay our hunger. How we rejoiced to find some edible caterpillars, which were delicious, and made us feel stronger for our night’s work! Just as the darkness was coming on, when you cannot tell one man from another, we crept along the bank, stepped into the canoe, grasped the paddles, and silently pushed off into the stream. We boys were delighted to be on the river again, and we did paddle! But had any people been about we might have lost everything even then, for the woman who came with us had been born on that side of the river, and had never been on the water in her life. She sat down in the bottom, clasping her child, and trembling with fear. Every time the canoe gave a lurch she would utter a little half-suppressed scream, and say, “Na gwa! Na kwe bona?” (“I am dying. What shall I do?”). We could not help laughing at her, but it did no good, she was really very much afraid. We got safely over, tied the canoe to the bank, and left it for the owners to find as best they might, and plunged once more into the forest.