[Illustration: WAR HATCHET OF UKUSU.] [Illustration: STOOL OF UKUSU.] Night came, but with it no tidings of the land party. We listened all through the dark hours for the sound of signal gun-shots, but none cheered us. In the early morning I despatched Uledi, the coxswain, and five of the younger boatmen, through the jungles, with a caution to observe the villages, and by no means to risk an unequal contest with people who would dog them through the bushes like leopards. Uledi, with a calm smile, bade me rest assured: he was confident he would soon find them. They set out, leaving us alone to indulge in gloomy thoughts. At 4 P.M. we heard the roar of a musket-shot through the forest, and soon Uledi emerged from the jungle behind us, his face all aglow with triumph, “They are coming, master, close by,” he said. True enough, the advance-guard appeared in a few seconds, and presently the column, weary, haggard, sick and low spirited. The people had been wandering. Having found a road, they followed it, till they came upon a tribe, who attacked them with arrows, and killed three of them. They retaliated, and the advance-guard captured one of the assailants, and asked what tribe he belonged to. “The Bakusu,” he had said, “and the great river is a long way east of you.” They compelled him to show the way, and after some fifteen hours’ marching from the place of the fight, they had met with gallant Uledi and his scouting party, and had hurried after him. Within four hours the boat had transported the entire party to the left bank of the Ruiki. I was here compelled to relax the rigour of the command that no one should appropriate food without payment, for the suffering of the people was excessive. _Nov. 26._—On the 26th, we floated down river to Nakanpemba, the land division on this day keeping close to the river, and though it was buried frequently in profound depths of jungle, we were able to communicate with it occasionally by means of drum-taps. [Illustration: VIEW BETWEEN THE RUIKI AND NAKANPEMBA.] The river had widened gradually to 1700 yards, and was studded with large tree-clad islands, both banks presenting dense masses of tall woods and undergrowth. Not a soul had been seen in any of the villages passed through; now and then we heard screams of “Wasambye! Wasambye!” and sometimes we heard voices crying out something about Bwana Muhala, or Mtagamoyo, the notorious land-pirate and kidnapper. Nakanpemba possessed also its dreadful relics, arranged in ghastly lines along the streets—relics of many a feast, as Professor Huxley has now taught us, on dead humanity.