Our life at St. Joseph River, however, was not to be all tranquillity. Once we had an alarm which fortunately degenerated into an incident of pure comedy, although it might have been very serious. At nightfall, one evening, a native boy, who had gone out shooting, had not returned, and we began to grow very anxious about him. At eight o’clock, however, he came into camp in a state of considerable agitation and bringing a strange tale of a pig. He had shot a tusker with No. 9 shot, but had only wounded it, and the animal charged him, whereupon he had thrown away his gun and run up a tree. Then the pig sat down over against him and laid siege to him, and our poor friend abode in the tree for several hours. Finally, however, the pig’s wound, which was over his eye, so blinded him with blood that he raised the siege in disgust and made off to his fastnesses. As time went on the rumours of war increased, and one day three natives came in from the village of Mi-Mi, six hours’ journey higher up the mountains, on the top of a ridge. They came from the chief of Baw-boi, a fierce warrior, who kept all the small villages round him in abject terror. His emissaries conveyed to me a most agreeable message, that if we and our followers should honour him with a visit at Mi-Mi, he would kill my men, and have the pleasure of cooking and eating our heads—a compliment, presumably, to the superiority of European brains. I had fully intended to visit him, but after this token of cordiality I refrained, so that the menu of the chief of Baw-boi’s regal banquet has not yet included the tempting item, “braised brains of Pratt.” After the chief’s intimation I kept fires going all night at both ends of the camp, but it was not necessary to post a stricter watch than usual, for three or four of my men always kept awake in their hammocks during the dark hours. This precaution is, in fact, so natural to savages that they never need to be reminded of its necessity. We heard that the chief of Baw-boi had placed his village in a complete state of defence, had excavated a trench 18 feet wide all round, and had erected a stockade. The effect of these hostile preparations on the weaker villages round we were to learn later from Sam, who was, at this time, a day’s journey higher up the river carrying on collecting work for me. The days seemed very long from lack of occupation, and the nights also, for we could not sleep for the roar of the St. Joseph River. Occasionally there were amusing incidents. One of my men, Gaberio, had a brilliant inspiration. He thought he would shoot fish with a rifle, and was allowed to go and try; but not only were they too quick for him, but, of course, the water deflected the ball, and the refraction of light through water makes a true aim impossible. Gaberio, who had no knowledge of natural science, covered his defeat by another excuse— “Water too deep,” said Gaberio.