As the gigantic Madis, and tall Soudanese, and tallest Zanzibaris towered above the little man, it was delightful to observe the thoughts within him express themselves with lightning rapidity on his face. The wonderment that filled him, the quick shifting and chilling fears as to his fate, the anxious doubts that possessed him, the hopes that sprang up as he noted humour on the faces, the momentary shades of anxiety, curiosity to know whence these human monsters had come from, what they would do with him eventually; would they kill him, how? by roasting him alive, or plunging him screaming into a vat-like cooking pot? Ach Gott! I hope not, and a slight shake of the head, with a more pallid colour on the lips and a nervous twitch showed what distress he was in. He would do anything to deserve the favour of these big men, just as the young Nassamonians were willing to do 2600 years ago, when his pigmy forefathers pointed their fingers and jabbered at them in the old Nigritian village. So we took him to sit by us, and stroked him on the back, gave him some roast bananas to put into that distended aldermanic abdomen of his, and the pigmy smiled his gratitude. What a cunning rogue he was! how quick-witted! He spoke so eloquently by gesture that he was understood by the dullest of us. “How far is it to the next village where we can procure food?” He placed the side of his right hand across the left wrist. (More than two days’ march.) “In what direction?” He pointed east. “How far is it to the Ihuru?” “Oh!” He brought his right hand across his elbow joint--that is double the distance, four days. “Is there any food north?” He shook his head. “Is there any west or north-west?” He shook his head, and made a motion with his hand as though he were brushing a heap of sand away. “Why?” He made the motion with his two hands as though he were holding a gun, and said “Doooo!” “To be sure the Manyuema have destroyed everything.” “Are there any ‘Doooo’ in the neighbourhood, now?” He looked up and smiled with a gush as artful as a London coquette, as if to say, “You know best! Oh! naughty man, why do you chaff me?” “Will you show us the road to the village where we can get food?” He nodded his head rapidly, patted his full-moon belly, which meant, “Yes, for there I shall get a full meal; for here”--he smiled disdainfully as he pressed his thumb nail on the first joint of his left index finger--“are plantains only so big, but there they are as big as this,” and he clasped the calf of his leg with two hands. “Oh, Paradise!” cried the men, “bananas as big as a man’s leg!” The pigmy had contrived to ingratiate himself into every man’s affection. My authority was gone until the story of the monstrous bananas would be disproved. Some of them looked as if they would embrace him, and his face mimicked artless innocence, though he knew perfectly well that, in their opinion, he was only a little lower than an angel.