was a differently formed animal, and not nearly
so large as that monster of the woods. The mother and infant were
gambolling together; the young one tumbling head over heels, then
leaping on its mother's shoulders, then rolling about the ground, while
she turned it over and over, apparently to the little creature's great
delight. We all stopped, and concealing ourselves behind some thick
brushwood, watched the creatures.

"There you see a very curious animal," said Senhor Silva to me. "That
is what you call in Europe a chimpanzee."

The old animal had an intensely black face, while that of its young one
was yellow. It was between four and five feet in height. Suddenly it
stood up on its legs and walked a few paces, stooping somewhat like an
old man. The position it assumed enabled it to look at us, when, with a
sudden cry, it seized its young one in its arms, and sprang up the
nearest tree, exhibiting a wonderful agility. I should have had no
heart to shoot the creature, and I was glad to see Stanley, though he
instinctively lifted his piece to his shoulder, drop it again.

"No," he said; "we must let the mother and child live. David must go
without the specimen. We could not carry even the skin home, and one
young monkey as a pet is enough. So Master Chico shall have no rival."

We had not gone far when we met with two paths leading through the
thickest part of the forest, both of which we concluded would conduct us
homeward.

"If you and Chickango will take one, Senhor Silva and I will take the
other," said Stanley. "We shall have better prospect of sport, and two
guns are sufficient to contend with either lions or panthers."

We accordingly separated, I taking the path to the right.

When passing through an African forest, it is necessary for a man to
keep his eyes about him in every direction. The path I was following
led to an open space, which had been used as a plantation by the
natives, I guessed, by finding a few plantains growing on it. Passing
across it, we discovered another path, which led further into the
forest. "Dis no man path," observed Chickango. "Elephant make it." I
had no doubt he was right from the appearance of the opening, the boughs
on either side being broken down, and the ground being trampled by the
feet of large animals. Though I might have been somewhat proud of
"bagging" an elephant, as Stanley would have called it, I had no great
wish to encounter one. Still, as