s fellows, having nothing too
much for himself, could find charity enough in his own destitution to
share with him.

Thirty-six hours is a long period for a growing boy to be without food,
and Selim began to feel it. There were none of those wild fruit-trees,
so common in Ukonongo, and Kawendi, and Usowa, the mbembu, the singwe
(the wild wood-peach and plum); no wild grape nor nux vomica fruit, as
in the south-eastern forests of Urori. The long, extensive plain south
of the Cow River seems to have made two zones, different from each
other, of Southern Unyamwezi and South-western Urori. The trees in this
forest were more adapted for building purposes; but had Selim understood
the ways of wild life in the forest, had he been anything but the
tenderly-nurtured and pampered youth from Zanzibar, even here he might
have found plenty of eatable roots. There was no lack of these about
him; the roots of those long, slender, primate-leafed plants, on which
he trod, he would have found to be as nutritious as the yams of
Zanzibar. But the boy was innocent of this knowledge, and so he kept
on, seldom looking on the ground, except when he began to feel
disheartened.

As it was approaching sunset, however, he espied a small antelope
crouching behind the bushes about fifty yards from him. Lifting his
gun, with a prayer for success, he fired, and the animal, after making
two or three convulsive leaps, fell wounded on its side. Hurrying up,
he caught it as it was about to rise to its feet, and using one of his
spears as a knife, looked towards the north-east, in the direction of
Mecca, and uttering his fervent "Bismillah"--(in the name of God!) the
pious youth cut its throat.

Then, proceeding with the work of preparing the meat, he cut off the
head, skinned the animal, and extracted the inward parts, which he left
for the hyaenas, while the eatable portions he conveyed to the fork of a
great tree, where he intended to rest that night.

Hastily collecting some dry leaves, twigs, and sticks, he conveyed these
also to the fork of the tree, and with the aid of some powder, he
succeeded, after much patient work, in making a fire, over which he
placed whole pieces of the antelope to roast, or rather to warm, for his
ravenous hunger would not permit him to wait for the roast.

Had Selim understood the art of travelling, he would, of course, have
cut the meat into thin strips, and have dried them slowly over the fire,
and by this m