From a friend of mine, who paid me much attention, I ascertained that three hours from Urangi inland was a large market-town, called Ngombé, whither the Barangi frequently went with fish, dried and fresh, to purchase cassava, bananas, ground nuts, and palm-oil; that palm-trees were as thick as a forest inland; that on the right bank below Gunji are three districts, Umangi, Ukeré, and Mpisa; that the river on the right side is known as Ukeré, while that which rolls by Urangi is called Iringi. At sunset our strange friends departed, and paddled across river to their villages, very amiably disposed, if one might judge from smiles and pleasant nods of the head. At 8 P.M. a terrific drumming and some half a dozen musket-shots were heard from the Urangi villages. We supposed them to be dancing and enjoying their palm-wine, the delicious and much-esteemed _malofu_. Sometimes we heard, amid a deathly silence, also the voice of a man, who might be reading a proclamation or delivering a lecture, for all we understood. The voice was clearly audible, but the words were not. Finally, about midnight I slept. _Feb. 11._—An hour before dawn we were alert, preparing our morning meal, packing up, delivering instructions, and observing other customs preparatory to starting the Expedition anew on the voyage. A little after sunrise our guides of Urangi, who had shown us the way from Rubunga, appeared, according to their promise to escort us to another tribe below. For their good nature we gave an earnest of our liberal purpose. We then embarked. As we began to move from our camp we observed scores of canoes approaching us from Urangi, across the wide branch that separated our island from the villages. This was so natural that we paid no attention to it, yet we thought a greater number of men manned them than on the previous day. But for ten minutes we glided down smoothly and agreeably. Suddenly I heard a shot and a whistling of slugs in the neighbourhood of the boat. I turned my head, and observed the smoke of gunpowder drifting away from a native canoe. Yet we could scarcely realise that our friends had so soon become enemies, until one of my people cried out, “Master, one of our men is killed. The people are firing at us.” Simultaneously with the shot I observed our guides had darted away in their canoe, and it dawned on my mind that the whole was a preconcerted arrangement.