At Chikopolo’s there is a Government station in charge of a few native police; here we stayed for a day, but finding nothing more interesting than waterbuck and reedbuck, moved north and camped on the Songwe, which is a stream of considerable importance, and navigable for several miles from the lake. I was informed that there was a German post on the northern bank of the river at its junction with the lake, and accordingly went across to pay my respects. On arrival I found that the station was in charge of a Goanese native, who promptly endeavoured to annex my rifle, saying that I had brought it into the country without a permit. I called upon Mirambo, a splendid old Arab who used to be a great man in the country. He entertained me with true Arab courtesy, and loaded my boys with magnificent pine-apples and lemons when I went away. It was pitiable to see the poor old man, who a few years ago had commanded thousands, putting on the faded relics of his greatness to do me honour. On the way back to camp I came upon an enormous native fishing weir: there were two or three natives wading waist-deep in the water above the weir pulling fish out of the baskets, while down-stream, with nothing but the crazy sticks between, the water was being lashed into foam by the gyrations of scores of huge crocodiles. I shot fourteen in as many minutes, averaging fifteen feet in length. The natives flocked in to express their satisfaction, and actually brought me a present of some fish. There were a few pookoo on the plain. They are most beautiful little antelopes and carry themselves exactly like a waterbuck. The hair is reddish, long, and curly, and the hide (as with all the waterbucks) very tough and thick. It has been obtained by comparatively few sportsmen, as it is only found on the Upper Zambesi, Loangwa, Chambesi, and Mweru district.