4. That if he accompanied me sixty marches—each march of four hours’ duration—I should at the end of that distance return with him back again to Nyangwé, for mutual protection and support, unless we met traders from the west coast, whom I might accompany to the western sea, provided I permitted two-thirds of my force to return with him to Nyangwé. 5. That, exclusive of the 5000 dollars, I should provision 140 men during their absence from Mwana Mamba—going and returning. 6. That if, after experience of the countries and the natives, I found it was impracticable to continue the journey, and decided upon returning before the sixty marches were completed, I should not hold him responsible, but pay him the sum of 5000 dollars without any deduction. These terms I thought reasonable—all except article 4; but though I endeavoured to modify the article, in order to ensure full liberty to continue the journey alone if I thought fit, Tippu-Tib said he would not undertake the journey alone, from a distance of sixty camps to Mwana Mamba, even though 50,000 dollars were promised him, because he was assured he would never return to enjoy the money. He would much prefer continuing with me down to the sea, for a couple of thousand dollars more, to returning alone with his 140 men for 50,000 dollars. He agreed, however, after a little remonstrance, to permit the addition of article 7, which was to the effect that if he, Tippu-Tib, abandoned the journey through faint-heartedness, before the full complement of the marches had been completed, he was to forfeit the whole sum of 5000 dollars, and the return escort. “There is no hurry about it,” said I. “You may change your mind, and I may change mine. We will both take twenty-four hours to consider it. To- morrow night the agreement shall be drawn up ready for our seals, or else you will be told that I am unable to agree to your conditions.” The truth was that I had opened negotiations without having consulted my people; and as our conversation had been private, it remained for me to ascertain the opinion of Frank, before my next encounter with Tippu-Tib. At 6 P.M., a couple of saucers, filled with palm-oil and fixed with cotton-wick, were lit. It was my after-dinner hour, the time for pipes and coffee, which Frank was always invited to share. When he came in, the coffee-pot was boiling, and little Mabruki was in waiting to pour out. The tobacco-pouch, filled with the choicest production of Africa, that of Masansi near Uvira, was ready. Mabruki poured out the coffee, and retired, leaving us together. “Now Frank, my son,” I said, “sit down. I am about to have a long and serious chat with you. Life and death—yours as well as mine, and those of all the Expedition—hang on the decision I make to-night.”