“Ndugu, O ndugu” (“Brother, O brother”), the interpreter hailed them, “we are friends; we wish to cross the river. Bring your canoes and take us to the other side, and we will give you plenty of shells and beads.” “Who are you?” “We are Warungwana” (Wangwana). “Where from?” “From Nyangwé.” “Ah! you are Wasambye!” (the uncircumcised). “No; we have a white man with us as chief, and he is kind.” “If he fills my canoe with shells, I will go and tell the Wenya that you want to cross the river.” “We cannot give so much as that, but we will give ten shells for each man.” “We want a thousand shells for each man, or you shall never cross the river.” “Ah, but, Ndugu, that is too much; come, we will give you twenty shells for each.” “Not for ten thousand, brother. We do not want you to cross the river. Go back, Wasambye; you are bad! Wasambye are bad, bad, bad! The river is deep, Wasambye! Go back, Wasambye; you are bad, bad! The river is deep, Wasambye! You have not wings, Wasambye! Go back, Wasambye!” After saying which they sang the wildest, weirdest note I ever heard, and sent it pealing across the river. “Ooh-hu, ooh-hu-hu-hu!” In response we heard hundreds of voices sing out a similar note—“Ooh-hu, ooh-hu-hu-hu!” “That is a war-cry, master,” said the interpreter. “Nonsense, don’t be foolish. What cause is there for war?” “These wild people do not need cause; they are simply wild beasts.” “I will prove to you before two hours you are wrong,” I said. By the time I had finished my breakfast the _Lady Alice_ was in the river, and a loud shout of applause greeted her appearance on her natural element. The boat’s crew, with Uledi as coxswain, and Tippu-Tib, Sheikh Abdallah, Muini Ibrahim, Bwana Abed (the guide), Muini Jumah, and two interpreters and myself as passengers, entered the boat. We were rowed up the river for half an hour, and then struck across to a small island in mid- stream. With the aid of a glass I examined the shores, which from our camp appeared to be dense forest. We saw that there were about thirty canoes tied to the bank, and amongst the trees I detected several houses. The bank was crowded with human beings, who were observing our movements. We re-entered our boat, and pulled straight across to the left bank, then floated down slowly with the current, meantime instructing the interpreters as to what they should say to the Wenya. When we came opposite, an interpreter requested them to take a look at the white man who had come to visit their country, who wished to make friends with them, who would give them abundance of shells, and allow none of his men to appropriate a single banana, or do violence to a single soul; not a leaf would be taken, nor a twig burned, without being paid for.