s than our friends supposed necessary to
remove them; we therefore went down the river for fresh supplies, and
made preparation for a more serious survey of this region.

The steamer having returned from the bar, we set out on the 22nd of
November to examine the rapids of Kebrabasa. We reached the foot of the
hills again, late in the afternoon of the 24th, and anchored in the
stream. Canoe-men never sleep on the river, but always spend the night
on shore. The natives on the right bank, in the country called Shidima,
who are Banyai, and even at this short distance from Tette, independent,
and accustomed to lord it over Portuguese traders, wondered what could be
our object in remaining afloat, and were naturally suspicious at our
departing from the universal custom.

They hailed us from the bank in the evening with "Why don't you come and
sleep onshore like other people?"

The answer they received from our Makololo, who now felt as independent
as the Banyai, was, "We are held to the bottom with iron; you may see we
are not like your Bazungu."

This hint, a little amplified, saved us from the usual exactions. It is
pleasant to give a present, but that pleasure the Banyai usually deny to
strangers by making it a fine, and demanding it in such a supercilious
way, that only a sorely cowed trader could bear it. They often refuse to
touch what is offered--throw it down and leave it--sneer at the trader's
slaves, and refuse a passage until the tribute is raised to the utmost
extent of his means.

Leaving the steamer next morning, we proceeded on foot, accompanied by a
native Portuguese and his men and a dozen Makololo, who carried our
baggage. The morning was pleasant, the hills on our right furnished for
a time a delightful shade; but before long the path grew frightfully
rough, and the hills no longer shielded us from the blazing sun. Scarcely
a vestige of a track was now visible; and, indeed, had not our guide
assured us to the contrary, we should have been innocent of even the
suspicion of a way along the patches of soft yielding sand, and on the
great rocks over which we so painfully clambered. These rocks have a
singular appearance, from being dislocated and twisted in every
direction, and covered with a thin black glaze, as if highly polished and
coated with lamp-black varnish. This seems to have been deposited while
the river was in flood, for it covers only those rocks which lie between
the highest water-m