stalk standing just between two groups of the refractory boatmen, who, whether they were really asleep or not, in a moment started to their feet. Not many minutes afterwards I fired again, hitting the mark I had selected with due precision. My third shot grazed the stump of the reed I had already broken. The little expedient I had adopted answered admirably, every one of the fellows seemed instantaneously to return to his senses; the boats began to glide off into the water as it were by some secret magic, and we were very soon on our way again. The boatmen begged me not to fire any more; they did not like the noise; they would pull hard, and would bring me very quickly where I could shoot plenty of “polocholo” (game). Within three hours I landed at Makumba’s baobab.
WANA WENA, THE NEW KING OF THE MARUTSE.
The sky was now quite clear, and the refreshing
