The moon went slowly down, and it occurred to Leonora to remark that we were 'going down' too, an unusual thing so early in term. Like some sweet bride into her chamber the moon departed, and the quivering footsteps of the Don[14] shook the planets from their places, to the consternation of the Savilian Professor of Astronomy, who, as in duty bound, was contemplating these revolutionary performances from the observatory in the Parks. A number of moral ideas occurred to Leonora and myself, but out of regard for Ustâni's feelings we denied them expression. I began, indeed, to utter a few appropriate sentiments, but the poor Boshman exclaimed, 'You floggee, floggee, Missy, or preachee, preachee, but no _both_ floggee and preachee--' in a tone that would have disarmed a Bampton lecturer. [14] Do you mean the Dawn?--PUBLISHER. Every Oxford man knows what I mean.--ED. Down we drifted, ever downwards, obedient to the inscrutable laws of the equilibrium of fluids. Now we swept past the White Willow, now through the cruel crawling waters of the Gut, now threaded the calamitous gorge of Iffley, and then shot the perilous cataract of Sandford. At this moment, just when the dhow was yet quivering with the strain, I noticed an expression of abject fear on the face of Ustâni. His dark countenance was positively blanched with horror, and his teeth chattered. 'Silence, chatterbox!' I cried, querulously perhaps, when he laid down his pole and seated himself in an attitude of despair. 'What's the matter, old boy?' asked Leonora, and the reply came in faltering accents-- '_The Ama Barghîs!_'[15] [15] _Ama_ is the prefix of all the tribal names; Ama Zulu, Ama Hagger. I connect it with the Greek preposition [Greek: hama].--ED. Don't keep hammer hammering away at Greek! This is a boy's book, not a holiday task, this is!--PUBLISHER. We glanced in terror down the river's edge. There, on the path trodden by so many millions of feet that now are silent,[16] there were the burly forms of five or six splendid savages. [16] _Please_ don't begin moralising again. One never knows when it will come upon you.--PUBLISHER. Couldn't help just throwing it in.--ED. The character of their language--which was borne to us on the pure breeze of morning--their costume, their floating house, in which these scourges of the water highway commonly reside--everything combined to demonstrate that they belonged to the Barghîz, the most powerful and most dreaded of the native populations. '_Me umslopogey_,' whispered Ustâni in his native language, meaning that he would retreat. 'Eyes in the boat,' cried Leonora, in her clear, commanding tones; 'paddle on all!' The Boshman, cowed by her aspect, and the mere slave of discipline (he had pulled in the St. Catherine's second torpid), obeyed her command, and presently we were abreast of the Barghîz.