“I assure you, Frank, this enormous void is about to be filled up. Blank as it is, it has a singular fascination for me. Never has white paper possessed such a charm for me as this has, and I have already mentally peopled it, filled it with most wonderful pictures of towns, villages, rivers, countries, and tribes—all in the imagination—and I am burning to see whether I am correct or not. _Believe?_ I see us gliding down by tower and town, and my mind will not permit a shadow of doubt. Good- night, my boy! Good-night! and may happy dreams of the sea, and ships, and pleasure, and comfort, and success attend you in your sleep! To- morrow, my lad, is the day we shall cry—‘Victory or death!’” [Illustration: “TOWARDS THE UNKNOWN.”] CHAPTER VII. Farewell to Tippu-Tib—Attacked from both banks—The fat savage takes a bad shot at me—In the home of the elephants—Insect life—Under covert—The Lowwa river—A storm on the river—New Year’s Day—Bullets against spears—“Sennenneh!”—Tempting the female mind—The reward of a good deed—A river armada: crocodile boats—Betwixt cataracts and cannibals. _Dec. 28._—The crisis drew nigh when the 28th of December dawned. A grey mist hung over the river, so dense that we could not see even the palmy banks on which Vinya-Njara was situated. It would have been suicidal to begin our journey on such a gloomy morning. The people appeared as cheerless and dismal as the foggy day. We cooked our breakfasts in order to see if, by the time we had fortified the soul by satisfying the cravings of the stomach, the river and its shores might not have resumed their usual beautiful outlines, and their striking contrasts of light and shadow. Slowly the breeze wafted the dull and heavy mists away until the sun appeared, and bit by bit the luxuriantly wooded banks rose up solemn and sad. Finally the grey river was seen, and at 9 A.M. its face gleamed with the brightness of a mirror. “Embark, my friends! Let us at once away! and a happy voyage to us.”