In order that there should be no possible chance of a rupture, we prepared to camp on a very long wooded island, on a beautiful green thoroughly shaded by forest patriarchs. Our appearance was the signal for a great number of the elegant canoes of this region to approach us. These ranged in length from 15 to 45 feet, and were manned by from one person to twenty men, according to their size. Beautifully carved and perfectly shaped, their crews, standing, and armed with powerful paddles of light wood, propelled them along at the rate of six knots an hour. They were as different in form and design from those monsters up river as the natives themselves were. It was very curious to watch this transition from one tribal peculiarity and custom to another. It was evident that these tribes never traded with those above. I doubt whether the people of Urangi and Rubunga are cannibals, though we obtained proof sufficient that human life is not a subject of concern with them, and the necklaces of human teeth which they wore were by no means assuring—they provoked morbid ideas. We received a noisy and demonstrative welcome. They pressed on us in great numbers, which, considering our late eventful life, did not tend to promote that perfect feeling of security which we had briefly tasted at Rubunga. Still we bore it good-humouredly. If geniality, frankness, sociability are the best weapons with which to treat savage man, we showed ourselves adepts and practised professors of the art. I did not observe the least shadow of a frown, sulkiness, doubt, or suspicion on the face of any man, woman, or child connected with the Expedition. As for Frank and myself, our behaviour was characterized by an angelic benignity worthy of canonization. I sat smiling in the midst of a tattooed group, remarkable for their filed teeth and ugly gashed bodies, and bearing in their hands fearfully dangerous-looking naked knives or swords, with which the crowd might have hacked me to pieces before I could have even divined their intentions.