“In the same way I am told the old man Daoud Liviston”—David Livingstone—“was prevented from going. The old man tried hard to persuade the Arabs to lend him canoes, but Muini Dugumbi refused, upon the ground that he would be rushing to his death. Cameron also asked for canoes, and offered high prices for them, but Dugumbi would not be persuaded, as he declined to be held responsible by the British Consul at Zanzibar for any accident that might happen to him. Bombay, I believe, wished to go, but Bilal was resolute in his objections to the river, and each night intrigued with the Arabs to prevent his master. When Cameron reached Imbarri at Kasongo’s, I offered to take him for a sum of money as far as the Sankuru river, provided he would give me a paper stating that I took him at his own request, and releasing me from all responsibility in the event of a conflict with the natives. He declined to go. I therefore, at his own request, supplied him with guides to take him to Juma Merikani, at Kasongo’s, in Rua, where he would meet Portuguese traders. I have received word from Juma Merikani that Cameron, after many months’ stay with him, went on his way, escorted by a large number of Portuguese traders, towards the western sea. That is all I know about it.” Out of this frank explanation, I had, therefore, elicited the information that “want of canoes and hostility of the savages,” reluctance of the Arabs to permit him to proceed by the river from an officious regard for his safety, and the “cowardice of his followers,” were the main causes that prevented the gallant officer from following the river. These were difficulties for me also to surmount in some manner not yet intelligible. How was I to instil courage into my followers, or sustain it, to obtain the assistance of the Arabs to enable me to make a fair beginning, and afterwards to purchase or make canoes? “I suppose, Tippu-Tib,” I said, “having offered the other white man your assistance, you would have no objections to offer it to me for the same sum?” “I don’t know about that,” he replied, with a smile. “I have not many people with me now. Many are at Imbarri, others are trading in Manyema.” “How many men have you with you?” “Perhaps three hundred—or say two hundred and fifty.” “That number would be a grand escort, amply sufficient, if well managed, to ensure perfect protection.” “Yes, united with your party, it would be a very strong force, but how would it be when I returned alone? The natives would say, seeing only my own little force, ‘These people have been fighting—half of them are killed, because they have no ivory with them; let us finish them!’ I know, my friend, these savages very well, and I tell you that that would be their way of thinking.” “But, my friend,” said I, “think how it would be with me, with all the continent before me, and only protected by my little band!”