At Kiranga-Ranga the weather began to be unpropitious. The Mcho’o, the heavy showers which fall between the Masika or vernal, and the Vuli or autumnal rains, set in with regularity, and accompanied us during the transit of the maritime plain. I therefore refused to halt more than one day, although the P’hazi or chiefs of the Wazaramo showed, by sending presents of goats and grain, great civility--a civility purchased, however, by Said bin Salim at the price of giving to each man whatever he demanded; even women were never allowed to leave the camp unpropitiated. I was not permitted in this part to enter the villages, although the Wazaramo do not usually exclude strangers who venture upon their dangerous hospitality. Girls are appointed to attend upon them, and in case of sickness or accident happening to any one in the settlement, they are severely interrogated concerning the morality of the guest, and an unfavourable account of it leads to extortion and violence. The Wazaramo, like the Wagogo, and unlike the other East African tribes, are jealous of their women; still “damages” will act, as they have acted in other lands, as salve to wounded honour and broken heart. On the 5th of July we set out betimes, and traversing the fields around Kiranga-Ranga, struck through a dense jungle, here rising above, there bending into the river valley, to some stagnant pools which supply the district with water. The station, reached in 3^{hrs} 30′, was called Tumba Ihere, after the headman, who accompanied us. Here we saw cocos emerging from a fetid vegetation, and for the last time the Mwembe or mango, a richly foliaged but stunted tree which never attains the magnificent dimensions observed at Zanzibar. Several down-caravans were halted at Tumba Ihere; the slaves brought from the interior were tied together by their necks, and one obstinate deserter was so lashed to a forked pole with the bifurcation under his chin, that when once on the ground he could not rise without assistance. These wretches scarcely appeared to like the treatment; they were not, however, in bad condition. The Wanyamwezi porters bathed in the pools and looked at us without fear or shame. Our daily squabble did not fail to occur. Riza, a Baloch, drew his dagger on one of Said bin Salim’s “children,” and the child pointed his Tower-musket at the Baloch; a furious hubbub arose; the master, with his face livid and drawn like a cholera patient’s, screamed shrilly as a woman, and the weapons returned to their proper places bloodless as those wielded by Bardolph, Nym, and ancient Pistol. My companion began to suffer from the damp heat and the reeking miasma; he felt that a fever was coming on, and the fatigue of marching under these circumstances prevented our mustering the party. The consequence was, that an ass laden with rice disappeared,--it had probably been led out of the road and unburdened by the Baloch;--whilst axes, cords, and tethers could nowhere be found when wanted.