“27.--Knocked up quite and remain--recover--sent to buy milch goats.--We are on the banks of the Molilamo.” He is lying at Kolunganjovu’s town. His one hope is in milk, but the search for milch goats was vain. The whole district had been plundered by the Mazitu. He tried to eat a little pounded corn but failed. The 28th was spent in similar vain endeavours to obtain milk. On the 29th the chief, who said “everything should be done for his friend,” offered to escort the caravan to the crossing-place, and see them provided with canoes. There was an initial difficulty. Livingstone could not walk to the door of the hut to reach his litter. The wall was opened, and the sick man transferred from his bed to the litter in that way. The narrative of his devoted men is now most explicit. It is eloquent alike of the great leader’s fortitude and their own unfailing consideration. We need not linger on the details; the agony of lifting him into the canoe, and lifting him out; the journey through “swamps and plashes”; the arrival at Chitambo’s village; the delays in building the hut while he lay “under the broad eaves of a native hut,” and a soft drizzle of rain descended. At last the shelter was erected and banked round with earth; the bed was made, raised on sticks and grass; the medicine chest placed on a large box that did duty for a table; and a fire kindled outside opposite the door. Just inside the boy Majwara lay down and slept, that he might be at hand if wanted. The imagination reverently dwells on every detail of the scene, for the old hero has made his last journey, and is about to sleep his last sleep. While he was lying on his litter outside, and the rain was falling, curious villagers had gathered round, each man with bow in hand, for they had been guarding their crops. This was the great chief who had come from far. His fame they knew somewhat; they could not know that he was the best friend Africa ever had. They gazed respectfully and wonderingly at the thin, pale, emaciated sufferer with the bloodless hands and lips, and the face distorted with sharp throes of agony. Through the falling rain they watched him; and in days to come would tell their children that they had seen Livingstone.