Still it is not singular that Stanley did not just then trouble himself with it. As long as the difference existed and was now in his favor he was content, as well he might be. The friendly natives at the head of these falls assured him that he had passed the cannibal country, but they differed materially as to the number of falls below--one making them three, another a half dozen or more. No matter whether they were few or many, they must be passed, though he dragged his canoes over lofty mountains to do it. But if the differences in the character of the natives was great, that in the character of the scenery and aspect of the river was no less so. The wild, fierce savages had become tame, while the gently flowing river, studded with green islands, had become wild and fierce and angry. The gradually descending plain was transformed into the terrific gorge over which hung beetling cliffs, and the placid current into a roaring torrent dashing amid rocks, plunging over precipices, and filling the solitudes with an ever-angry voice. Hostile savages were behind, but hostile nature was before the adventurers, to whom there would be no rest till they found the restless sea. Immediately before them were two stretches of rapids and then a cataract. The first was a mere piece of broken water that was easily passed. Having no fear of hostile natives, Stanley leisurely explored both river and shore to ascertain the best way of getting around the second rapids. The goods, asses, women and children were taken overland, while the boats were led with hawsers from rock to rock along the shore. Fortunately not a rope broke, and by five o'clock the rapids were passed and all were in camp together.