Magomba before our departure exacted from Kidogo an oath that his Wazungu would not smite the land with drought or with fatal disease, declaring that all we had was in his hands. He boasted, and with truth, of his generosity. It was indeed my firm conviction from first to last, that in case of attack or surprise I had not a soul except my companion to stand by me: all those who accompanied us could, and consequently would, have saved their lives;--_we_ must have perished. We should have been as safe with six as with sixty guns; but I would by no means apply to these regions Mr. Galton’s opinion, “that the last fatal expedition of Mungo Park is full of warning to travellers who propose exploring with a large body of men.” For though sixty guns do not suffice to prevent attack in Ugogo, 600 stout fellows armed with the “hot-mouthed weapon” might march through the length and breadth of Central Africa. During our four days’ detention at Kanyenye, I was compelled to waste string after string of beads in persuading the people to water the porters and asses. Yet their style of proceeding proved that it was greed of gain, not scarcity of the element, which was uppermost in their minds; they would agree to supply us with an unlimited quantity, and then would suddenly gather round the well and push away the Wanyamwezi, bidding them go and fetch more beads. All the caravan took the opportunity of loading itself with salt. Whilst the halt lasted, my companion brought in a fine-flavoured pallah and other antelopes, with floriken, guinea-fowl, and partridge. Neither he nor I, however, had strength enough, nor had we time, to attack the herds of elephants that roam over the valley whose deep purple line separates the table-land of Ugogo from the blue hills of the Wahumba to the north. And here, perhaps, a few words concerning the prospects of sportsmen in this part of Africa, may save future travellers from the mistake into which I fell. I expected great things, and returned without realising a single hope. This portion of the peninsula is a remarkable contrast to the line traversed by Dr. Livingstone, where the animals standing within bow-shot were so numerous and fearless, that the burden of provisions was often unnecessary. In the more populous parts game has melted away before the woodman’s axe and the hunters’ arrows: even where large tracks of jungle abound with water and forage, the note of a bird rarely strikes the ear, and during a long day’s march not a single large animal will be seen from the beaten track. It is true that in some places, there is “---- enough Of beastes that be chaseable.”