A dreary prospect truly! But one way was open to us, and not even the natives knew anything about it. We walked along the bank, and an eager discussion took place at each eddy we came to. Were there rocks beneath them or were they merely whirlpools? At last, thanks be to God, we came to the end of them. We managed, after all, to pass them all in our boats, and they were indeed enough to terrify any one; but they were really more alarming than dangerous, for there was plenty of water above most of the rocks. In one pass, some 54 yards wide, shut in between two large reefs, a good half of the waters of the Niger flings itself over with a tremendous roar. The immense velocity of the current is such that the water dashes up the banks like the waves of the sea, and there is one paradoxical thing about it: the level is at least three feet higher near the banks than in midstream, where a kind of trough is formed. It is along this trough that we have to steer, and it is really very dreadful to see the large masses of water piled up on either side, looking as if they were ready to rush together and engulf us between them. Digui made a very sensible speech to his crew. “Attention,” he cried, “no one is to look out of the boat; every one must put out all his strength; but I’ll break the head of the first man who looks beyond the deck.” Then ensued thirty seconds of mortal agony; there was a kind of flash like lightning, and the current had seized the barge in its grip, hugging it tightly. The vessel seemed about to break beneath the masses of water flung back from the banks to the centre of the stream, but it was over; we had got safely through the pass. I estimate the speed of the current at from twelve to fourteen miles, and if the boat had struck on an unnoticed rock as it rushed along, we knew that it must have been split open from stem to stern. On the right of the pass is a group of little islands where the current is broken up, and its strength lessened. It is amongst them that canoes are able to get through, turning the quieter water to account; but, as I said before, the passes there were too narrow for our boats. We were soon flung on to a second rapid, less majestic and terrible in appearance, but perhaps more dangerous than the first. To pass it safely, we had to steer to the left to begin with, and then bear to the right as much as possible to avoid the waves driven back in that direction by a great rock over which the water fell like a huge moustache; only the utmost care and skill saved the boats from being flung upon a bank of sharp flints near the left bank. In fact, it was an even more delicate manœuvre to achieve than to describe! [Illustration: THE RAPIDS BELOW BUSSA.]