ly free, not to say easy, translation:--

MOKOMPA'S SONG.

Kambira goes to hunt,
Yo ho!
Him's spear am nebber blunt,
Yo ho!
Him kill de buff'lo quick,
An' lub de porridge thick;
Him chase de lion too,
An' stick um troo an' troo.
De 'potimus as well,
An' more dan me can tell,
Hab down before um fell,
Yo ho!
De English come to see,
Yo ho!
Dat werry good for we,
Yo ho!
No' take us 'way for slaves,
Nor put us in our graves,
But set de black mans free,
W'en cotch um on de sea.
Dem splendid shooters, too,
We knows what dey can do
Wid boil an' roast an' stew,
Yo ho!
One makes um's gun go crack,
Yo ho!
An elephant on um's back,
Yo ho!
De drefful lion roar,
De gun goes crack once more,
De bullet fly an' splits
One monkey into bits,
Yo ho!
De glow-worm next arise,
De Englishman likewise
Wid werry much surprise,
An' hit um 'tween de eyes,
"Hooray! hooray!" um cries,
An' run to fetch um's prize--
Yo ho!

The last "Yo ho!" was given with tremendous energy, and followed by
peals of laughter.

It was at this point that the veritable lion thought proper to join in,
which he did, as we have said, with a roar so tremendous that it not
only put a sudden stop to the music, but filled the party with so much
alarm that they sprang to their arms with surprising agility.

Mindful of Chimbolo's previous warning, neither Harold nor Disco sought
to advance, but both looked at their savage friend for advice.

Now, in some parts of Africa there exists a popular belief that the
souls of departed chiefs enter into lions and render them sacred, and
several members of Harold Seadrift's party entertained this notion.
Chimbolo was one of these. From the sounds of growling and rending
which issued from the thicket, he knew that the lion in question was
devouring part of their buffalo-meat which had been hung on the branch
of a neighbouring tree, not, however, near enough to the fires to be
visible. Believing that the beast was a chief in disguise, Chimbolo
advanced a little towards the place where he was, and, much to our
traveller's amusement, gave him a good scolding.

"_You_ call yourself a chief, do you--eh?" he said sternly. "What kind
of a chief can _you_ be, to come sneaking about in the dark like this,
trying to steal our buffalo-meat! Are you not ashamed of yourself? A
pretty chief, truly; you are like the scavenger-beetle, and