The Arab slave traders are fast demoralizing these people. They set the different tribes to fighting and then step in and carry off multitudes of slaves. One fine market day these miscreants suddenly appeared among the throng of unsuspecting people and began an indiscriminate firing. They fled in all directions, many jumping into the river. The sole object of the slave stealers was to strike terror into the hearts of the inhabitants by showing the power of a gun. Livingstone witnessed this unprovoked massacre and thought that five hundred innocent lives were lost in it. He found the Lualaba a full mile wide at Nyangwe, and still believed it to be the Nile. In this firm belief he ceased to follow the stream further and turned his weary feet back to Ujiji on Tanganyika. It will always be a mystery how Livingstone could have nursed his delusion that he was on the Nile, for so long a time. The moment Cameron set his eyes on the Lualaba, he saw that it could not be the Nile, for its volume of water was many times larger than that of the Nile, and moreover its level was many hundred feet lower than the White Nile at Gondokoro. And though Stanley had the profoundest respect for the views of the great explorer, he hardly doubted that in descending the Lualaba he would emerge into the Atlantic through the mouth of the great Congo. Now while Livingstone is struggling foot-sore, sick, dejected, almost deserted, back to Ujiji on the Lake Tanganyika, for rest, for medicine, for news from home, after he has been lost for five long years, and after repeated rumors of his death had been sent from Zanzibar to England, what is taking place in the outside world? On October 16, 1869, Henry M. Stanley, a correspondent of the New York _Herald_, was at Madrid in Spain. On that date he received a dispatch from James Gordon Bennett, owner of the _Herald_, dated Paris. It read, “Come to Paris on important business.” With an American correspondent’s instinct and promptitude, Mr. Stanley knocked at Mr. Bennett’s door on the next night. “Who are you?” asked Bennett. “Stanley,” was the reply. “Yes; sit down. Where do you think Livingstone is?” “I do not know sir.” “Well, I think he is alive and can be found. I am going to send you to find him.” “What! Do you really think I can find Livingstone? Do you mean to send me to Central Africa?” “Yes, I mean you shall find him wherever he is. Get what news you can of him. And, may be he is in want. Take enough with you to help him. Act according to your own plans. But——_find Livingstone_.” By January, 1871, Stanley was at Zanzibar. He hired an escort, provided himself with a couple of boats, and in 236 days, after an adventurous journey, was at Ujiji on Tanganyika.