Three fiords, several miles in length, necessitated a wide detour. The scenery was superb: a lacework of bays, lochs, and inlets with endless choppy waves of hills sweeping away to the great purple surf of the distant ranges; islets galore, and the vast rugged mass of the island of Kwijwi as a background. For several days we had much trouble in allaying the fears of the natives; terrible accounts had preceded us, and the entire population fled to the hills on our approach. The fact of our carriers being Manyema, a name of terror throughout Central Africa, was not reassuring to the poor creatures, whose only knowledge of Manyema had been gathered from the Congo Free State soldiers, who for a time had been posted on Kivu, and from reports of the atrocities committed by the revolted troops during the past five years. Accounts also of the cannibals who were battering at the gates of Bugoie must have reached them from their northern kinsfolk. Black masses of natives in a silvery sea of glinting spearheads watched us from every hill-top. Fortunately we had several days’ food for our men, and when the natives saw that we passed through without touching even a bunch of bananas, they were reassured, and a few were eventually induced to approach and talk. We caught two of our men stealing, and inflicted condign punishment before a small body of natives who were in camp, explaining the circumstances, and telling them, in case of a repetition of the offence, to come and lay a complaint. But it would be easier to stop a monkey from scratching than a Manyema from stealing; and as the state of unrest of the native population was a grave danger, and petty thefts would probably have precipitated an attack, which we were ill prepared to repulse, we confined all our boys to camp, made water-carrying for the whole camp a fatigue-duty, and established a market where the natives might sell their produce under our personal supervision. I explained the expediency of our action, and told them that there were some such abandoned ruffians amongst them that they must all suffer for the misdeeds of the miscreants. They appeared satisfied, but as we were sitting down to lunch, I noticed an unusual stir in the lines. On going out I found that they were all packing up their belongings and preparing to depart; about thirty were already moving off. It was obviously an attempt to bluff us, as the experience of the boys who ran away at Tanganyika had taught them that it would be impossible to avoid detection even if they succeeded in passing through Ngenzi’s country, which they knew would be impossible in view of the then state of the natives. It was a critical moment. If the camp broke up, the entire expedition would be inevitably massacred by the Ruanda. I took my rifle and dashed off in pursuit, accompanied by my two Watonga; while Sharp, revolver in one hand and rifle in the other, threatened to shoot the first man who moved.