Quengueza, too, was tired of bush life, and had several times sworn that he had never known a man like me; that he could not understand what was moving me; that I had a heart of njego (leopard). His Majesty called those Bakalais his bushmen, and to whatever village he would set his foot he had a right at once to at least a wife. [Illustration: GOOD-BYE TO THE BAKALAIS.] [Sidenote: _PARTING DEMONSTRATIONS._] Quengueza is the best friend I ever had in Africa, indeed one of the best friends I ever had anywhere. This old and powerful chief—the dread in his younger days of all the tribes around—the man whom every body respected, the man whose word was law, was gentle with me, was kind to me, and never did a single mean thing, never took any advantage of me; and whatever I said was sure to be attended to, if possible. Going to a hunt, his last words were always to those who went with me, “Take care of my white man;” and, as he often said, if he had been a young man he would have gone with us. Every fowl or goat he had he gave to me, every bit of game his slaves or his friends killed for him was mine, and when we travelled in company we always ate together, and we always managed to make a pleasant table. For I wanted to show these people the difference between civilized and savage life, and Quengueza always ate with a fork and on a plate. I love old Quengueza, and it makes me happy to think that he knows I love him. As we were preparing to go, my Bakalai friends came in with presents of provisions. Baskets of cassava, smoked-boar hams, smoked fishes, sweet potatoes, were brought as free-will offerings. Malaouen, Gambo, and Querlaouen were always near me, their wives came every day to see me, and their children were always around me. All the Bakalai seemed to me to be kinder than ever. Good Obindji seemed so sorry! The evening before my departure I called him into my hut and gave him a nice coat and a red cap, which I had kept especially for him, and to his head-wife I gave a necklace of large beads. I did not forget friends Malaouen, Gambo, and Querlaouen. When the morning arrived, our canoes were on the beach. I was on the shore ready to embark; Obindji stood near me; every woman and man brought to me a parting gift. I was very much touched by their simple ways. When all was ready for a start, Macondai, my boy, fired a gun, and then I swung the American flag to the breeze, the first time that it or any other flag of a civilized nation was over these waters. The people shouted, and we were off; and as we glided down, and before we disappeared by the bend of the river, I saw Obindji’s hand waving farewell to me.