A sad mishap befell the donkey the first night of camping beyond the Luapula, and this faithful and sorely-tried servant was doomed to end his career at this spot! According to custom, a special stable was built for him close to the men. In the middle of the night a great disturbance, coupled with the shouting of Amoda, aroused the camp. The men rushed out and found the stable broken down and the donkey gone. Snatching, some logs, they set fire to the grass, as it was pitch dark, and by the light saw a lion close to the body of the poor animal, which was quite dead. Those who had caught up their guns on the first alarm fired a volley, and the lion made off. It was evident that the donkey had been seized by the nose, and instantly killed. At daylight the spoor showed that the guns had taken effect. The lion's blood lay in a broad track (for he was apparently injured in the back, and could only drag himself along); but the footprints of a second lion were too plain to make it advisable to track him far in the thick cover he had reached, and so the search was abandoned. The body of the donkey was left behind, but two canoes remained near the village, and it is most probable that it went to make a feast at Chisalamalama's. [Illustration: An old Servant destroyed.] Travelling through incessant swamp and water, they were fain to make their next stopping-place in a spot where an enormous ant-hill spread itself out,--a small island in the waters. A fire was lit, and by employing hoes, most of them dug something like a form to sleep in on the hard earth. Thankful to leave such a place, their guide led them next day to the village of Kawinga, whom they describe as a tall man, of singularly light colour, and the owner of a gun, a unique weapon in these parts, but one already made useless by wear and tear. The next village, N'kossu's, was much more important. The people, called Kawendé, formerly owned plenty of cattle, but now they are reduced: the Banyamwesi have put them under the harrow, and but few herds remain. We may call attention to the somewhat singular fact, that the hump quite disappears in the Lake breed; the cows would pass for respectable shorthorns.[38]