CHAPTER XVIII.

BIDDING GOOD-BY TO QUENGUEZA.BIDDING GOOD-BY TO QUENGUEZA.

DEPARTURE.—ARRIVAL AT GOUMBI.—THE PEOPLE ASK FOR THE KING.—A DEATH PANIC IN GOUMBI.—A DOCTOR SENT FOR.—DEATH TO THE ANIEMBAS.—THREE WOMEN ACCUSED.—THEY ARE TRIED AND KILLED.

After receiving Quengueza's blessing I jumped in our canoe, and soon the merry sound of the paddles was heard, and once more I ascended the river. The breeze was fresh, the tide was coming in, and every thing was in our favor.

The sickness of Quengueza had delayed me so much that it was now October. We were in the middle of the rainy season, and it was not very comfortable weather for traveling.

My outfit was composed chiefly of powder, shot, bullets, beads, looking-glasses, bracelets of brass and copper, and a lot of trinkets for presents, and also some fine pieces of prints and silks, with a few shirts and coats, for the chiefs. I had also a clock and a musical box.

When we reached Goumbi, the head village of Quengueza's dominions, we were pretty well tired out, for on our way we had encountered two very heavy rain-storms, preceded each by a tornado. The people, not seeing him with me, asked after their king, Quengueza, crying out, "Our king went with you, why have you not brought him back? When he went with you he was well, why has he been sick?"

Then one of the king's nephews gave me Quengueza's house, and Mombon, his head slave, came to receive my orders. Old friend Etia came also, and I was delighted to see him.

Toward sunset I heard a good deal of drumming, and songs being sung to Abambou and Mbuiri. I knew at once by these songs that somebody was very sick. It proved to be Mpomo, one of the nephews of the king. Mpomo was a great friend of mine; his wives and his people had always given me plenty of food, and if you have not heard of him before, it is because he was neither a hunter, a man of the jungle, nor a warrior.

I was asked to go and see him. The people had spent the night before drumming by the side of the bed where he lay, to drive the Abambou and the aniemba away; that is to say, the devil and witchcraft. On entering the hut, I was shocked at the appearance of my old friend. I could see, by his dim eyes, that he was soon to die, and as I took hold of his wrist and touched his pulse, I found it so weak that I was afraid he could scarcely live through the approaching night. As he saw me, he extended his hands toward me (for I had taught these people to shake hands), and said, in such a pitiful and low voice, "Chally, save me, for I am dying!"

In his hut and outside of it were hundreds of people, most of them moved to tears, for they were afraid that their friend, one of the leading men of the tribe, and one of the nephews of their king, was going to die. His wives were by his bedside, and watched him intently.

I said to him, "Mpomo, I am not God; I am unable to make a tree turn into a fish or an animal. I am a man, and my life is in the hands of God, as yours is.You must ask God, and not your fetiches, to make you well." Unfortunately, they all thought I could make him well. His friends insisted that I should give him medicine. At last I gave him some. In that country I was afraid to give medicine to men who were very sick. This will seem strange to you, but you will not wonder at it when I tell you that these savages are very superstitious. If the sick person got well after I had given him the medicine, it was all right; but if he got worse, then I was blamed, for they said, "If he had not taken the medicine of the white man instead of our own, he would have got well."

I warned them that I thought Mpomo could not get well. I loved him as well as they did, and felt very sorry. But they all replied, with one voice, "Mpomo will not die unless somebody has bewitched him."

Early the next morning, just before daybreak, the wailings and mournful songs of the natives rent the air. The whole village was in lamentation. Poor Mpomo had just died; he had gone to his long rest. He had died a poor heathen, believing in idols, witchcraft, fetiches, and in evil and good spirits.

How mournful were their cries! "All is done with Mpomo! We shall never see him again! He will never speak to us any more! We shall not see him paddle his canoe any more! He will walk no more in the village!"

At the last moment, when a Commi man is dying, his head wife comes and throws herself beside him on his bed, and surrounds his body with her arms, telling him that she loves him, and begging him not to die. As if the poor man wanted to die!

I immediately went to Mpomo's hut. I saw his poorwives in tears sitting upon the ground, throwing moistened ashes and dust over their bodies, shaving their hair, and tearing the clothes they wore into rags. Now and then they took the lifeless body of poor Mpomo in their arms; at other times they would kneel at his motionless feet, and implore him to open his eyes and look at them.

As soon as the news of Mpomo's death spread in the village, there was great excitement from one end of it to the other. Fear was on every face; each man and woman thought death was soon to overtake them. Each one dreaded his neighbor; fathers dreaded their sons and their wives; the sons their fathers and mothers; brothers and sisters were in fear of each other. A panic of the wildest kind had spread among the people of Goumbi; neither men nor women were in their senses. They fancied themselves surrounded by the shadow of death, and they saw it ready to get hold of them and carry them away to that last sleep of which they were so afraid.

The people talked of nothing but witchcraft, of wizards, and witches. They were sure that Mpomo had been bewitched.

Two days elapsed before Mpomo was buried, and then a large canoe came, and Mpomo's relatives took the body down the river, where the cemetery of the Abouya clan was situated. This cemetery was some fifty miles down the river, beyond Quayombi.

As the body was placed in the canoe, the people of the whole village mourned. The shrieks of his wives were heart-rending, and it was, who should show the greatest sorrow among the people; for every one was afraid of being accused of aniemba (sorcery); for if they did notappear very sorry, they would be sure to be suspected of being aniembas (sorcerers).

Immediately after the departure of the funeral procession, every man came out armed to the teeth, their faces betokening angry fear, all shouting and screaming, "There are people among us who kill other people. Let us find them out. Let us kill them. How is it—Mpomo was well a few days ago, and now Mpomo is dead?" A canoe was then immediately dispatched among the Bakalai in order to get a celebrated doctor, who had the reputation of being able to discover wizards at once.

The excitement of the savages became extreme. They wanted blood. They wanted to find victims. They wanted to kill somebody. Old and young, men and women, were frantic with a desire for revenge on the sorcerers.

The doctor came. The people surrounded him, shouting, "We have wizards among us. We have sent for you to find them. Do find them out, for if you do not, our people will be dying all the time."

Then the mboundou was prepared. I have described it to you before, and how it is prepared. The doctor drank a big cup of it in one draught.

Oh how his body trembled; how his eyes afterward became bloodshot, his veins enlarged. How the people looked at him with bloodthirsty eyes, and with mouths wide open.

Every man and boy was armed, some with spears, some with swords, some with guns loaded to the muzzle, some with axes and huge knives, and on every face I could see a determination to wreak a bloody revenge on those who should be pointed out as the criminals. Thewhole people were possessed with an indescribable fury and horrid thirst for human blood.

I shall never forget the sight. There I stood, alone in the midst of this infuriated populace, looking at those faces, so frightened, but, at the same time, so thirsty for blood. A cold shudder ran through me, for I knew not what would come next. I knew not but the whole village of Goumbi might be deluged in blood. I am sure you would have felt as I did.

For the first time my voice was without authority in Goumbi. No one wanted to hear me when I said that nobody must be killed; that there were no such things as sorcerers. "Chally, we are not the same people you are. Our country is full of witchcraft. Death to the wizards!" shouted they all, in tones which made the village shake. "Death to theaniembas!"

They, were all surrounding the doctor, as I have said before, when, at a motion from the stranger, the people became at once very still. Not a whisper could be heard. How oppressed I felt as I looked on. This sudden silence lasted about one minute, when the loud, harsh voice of the doctor was heard.

The people did not seem to be able to breathe, for no one knew if his name would be the one that should be called, and he be accused of the crime of witchcraft.

"There is a very black woman—a young woman—who lives in a house having one door only, with a large bunch of lilies growing by the door. Not far off is a tree to which theogouloungoubirds come every day."

Scarcely had he ended when the crowd, roaring and screaming like so many beasts, rushed frantically for the place indicated, when, to my horror, I saw them enter thehut of my good friend Okandaga, and seize the poor girl, who looked so frightened that I thought she had lost her reason. I shouted with all the power of my voice, "You are not going to kill the beautiful and good Okandaga—the pride and beauty of the village? No," said I, "you are not to kill her." But my voice was drowned. They dragged her from her hut, and waved their deadly weapons over her head. They tore her off, shouting and cursing, and as the poor, good African girl passed in the hands of her murderers, I thought the big tree behind which I was looking might hide me from her view. But lo! she saw me, and with a terrible shriek she cried, extending her arms toward me, "Chally, Chally, do not let me die. Do not let these people kill me. I am not a witch. I have not killed Mpomo. Chally, be a friend to me. You know how I have taken care of you—how I have given you food; how often I have given you water."

I trembled all over. I shook like a reed. It was a moment of terrible agony to me. The blood rushed toward my head. I seized my gun and one of my revolvers which was in my belt. I had a mind to fire into the crowd—shoot people right and left—send dismay among them—rescue dear and kind Okandaga, who was now poor and helpless—who had not a friend; put her in a canoe, and carry her down the river. But then, run away—where? I too would have murdered people. Perhaps some of the nephews of my friend Quengueza would be among those I should kill. Then what should I say to Quengueza? They were too frantic and crazed. The end would have been, I should have been murdered without saving the life of Okandaga. How I criedthat same evening. I remember it so well. I cried like a child. I would have given all I had to save Okandaga's life.

"CHALLY, CHALLY, DO NOT LET ME DIE."CHALLY, CHALLY, DO NOT LET ME DIE.

"After all," said I to myself, "what am I?"

They took her toward the banks of the Rembo and bound her with cords.

Quengueza, as you know, was not in Goumbi. How much I wished he had been.

Presently silence fell again upon the crowd. Then the harsh and demon-like voice of the doctor once more rang over the town. It seemed to me like the hoarse croak of some death-foretelling raven.

"There is an old woman not far from the king's place. She lives in a long and narrow house, and just in front of the house are plantain-trees which come from the sprouts which were planted by Oganda, the king's eldest brother, who is now dead. There is also, back of her house, a lime-tree which is now covered with fruit. She has bewitched Mpomo."

Again the crowd rushed off. This time they seized a princess, a niece of King Quengueza, a noble-hearted and rather majestic old woman. As they crowded about her with flaming eyes and threats of death, she rose proudly from the ground, looked them in the face unflinchingly, and, motioning them to keep their hands off her, said, "I will drink the mboundou, for I am not a witch; and woe to my accusers if I do not die!"

The crowd shouted and vociferated. Then she too was escorted to the river, but was not bound. She submitted to all without a tear or a murmur for mercy; she was too proud. Belonging directly to the families of the chiefs of the Abouya tribes from times of which theyhad no record, she wanted to show that she was not afraid of death. Pride was in her features, and she looked haughtily at her accusers, who left a strong guard, and then went back to the doctor.

Again, a third time, the dreadful silence fell upon the town, and the doctor's voice was heard.

Oh how I hated that voice!

"There is a woman with six children—she lives on a plantation toward the rising sun—she too bewitched Mpomo."

Again there was a furious shout, and the whole town seemed to shake under the uproar of voices clamoring for vengeance. A large squad of people rushed toward a plantation not far from the village. They returned soon after, appearing frantic, as if they were all crazy, and went toward the bank of the river, dragging with them one of King Quengueza's slaves, a good woman who many and many a time had brought me baskets of ground-nuts, bunches of bananas, and plantains. Her they took to where the two others were.

Then the doctor descended the street of the village. How fierce he looked! He wore round his waist a belt made from the skin of a leopard; on his neck he wore the horn of an antelope, filled with charmed powder, and hanging from it was a little bell. Round his belt hung long feathers of the ogouloungou bird; on his wrists he wore bracelets made from the bones of snakes; while round his neck were several cords, to which were attached skins of wild animals, tails of monkeys, leopards' and monkeys' teeth, scales of pangolins, and curious-looking dry leaves mingled with land and river shells. His face was painted red, his eyebrows white, and all over his bodywere scattered white and yellow spots. His teeth were filed to a point, and altogether he looked horrid. I wish I could have shot that monster; but then they all think alike—they all believe in witchcraft. He approached the women, and the crowd surrounded them.

Silence again succeeded to that great uproar; the wind seemed to whisper through the boughs of the trees; the tranquil river glided down, whose waters were soon to be stained with blood.

In a loud voice the doctor recited the crime of which the three women were accused. Then, pointing to Okandaga, he said that she had, a few weeks before, asked Mpomo for some salt, he being her relative. "Salt was scarce," said he, looking toward the frantic multitude, "and Mpomo refused her; she said unpleasant words to him, for she was angry that he had refused her salt. Then she vowed to bewitch him, and had succeeded, and by sorcery had taken his life."

The people shouted, "Oh, Okandaga, that is the way you do—you kill people because they do not give you what you ask. You shall drink the mboundou! That sweet face of yours is that of a witch. Ah! ah! ah! and we did not know it."

The crime of Quengueza's niece came next to be told. She had been jealous of Mpomo for a long time because he had children and she had none. She envied him; therefore jealousy and envy took possession of her, and she bewitched him.

The people screamed, "How could a woman be so wicked as to kill a man because he had children and she had none! We will give you mboundou to drink, and we will see if you are not a witch."

Quengueza's slave had asked Mpomo for a looking-glass. He had refused her, and therefore she had killed him with sorcery also.

As each accusation was recited the people broke out in curses. Each one rivaled his neighbor in cursing the victims, fearful lest lukewarmness in the ceremony should expose him to a like fate. So Okandaga's father, mother, brother, and sisters joined in the curses. The king's niece was cursed by her brothers and sons, and the poor slave by every body. It was a fearful scene to contemplate.

Then a passage was formed in the vast crowd, and the three women were led to the river, where a large canoe was in waiting. The executioners went in first, then the women, the doctor, and a number of people well armed with huge knives and axes.

By this time the sweat ran down my face. I must have been deadly pale as I followed each motion of these people.

Then the tam-tams beat, and the proper persons prepared the mboundou.

Quabi, Mpomo's eldest brother, who was to inherit all of Mpomo's property, held the poisoned cup. At sight of it poor Okandaga began again to cry, and Quengueza's niece turned pale in the face, for even the negro face at such times attains a pallor which is quite perceptible. Three other canoes, full of armed men, surrounded that in which the victims were.

A mug full of mboundou was then handed to the old slave woman, next to the royal niece, and last to the young and kind Okandaga. As they drank, the multitude shouted, "If they are witches, let the mboundou kill them; if they are innocent, let the mboundou go out!"

It was the most exciting scene in my life. My arrival in the cannibal country was as nothing compared with this. Though horror froze my blood, my eyes were riveted upon the spectacle. I could not help it. Suddenly the slave fell down. She had not touched the boat's bottom before her head was hacked off by a dozen rude swords, the people shouting "Kill her! kill her!" Next came Quengueza's niece. In an instant her head was off, and her blood was dyeing the waters of the river.

During all this time my eyes had been riveted on poor Okandaga. I hoped that she would not fall, but soon she too staggered, and struggled, and cried, vainly resisting the effects of the poison in her system. There was a dead silence—the executioners themselves were still—for Okandaga was the belle of the village, and had more lovers than any body else; but, alas! she finally fell, and in an instant her head was hewn off.

Then all was confusion. In an incredibly short space of time the bodies were cut in pieces and thrown in the river.

I became dizzy; my eyes wandered about; the perspiration fell down from my face in big drops; I could hardly breathe, and I thought I would fall insensible. One scene more like this, and I should have become mad. The image of poor Okandaga was before me, begging me to save her. I retired to my hut, but it felt so hot inside that I could not stay.

When all was over, the crowd dispersed without saying a word; the clamor ceased, and for the rest of the day the village was silent.

In the evening my friend Adouma, uncle of Okandaga, came secretly to my house to tell me how sorry hewas that Okandaga had been killed. He said, "Chailly, I was compelled to take part in the dreadful scene. I was obliged to curse Okandaga, but what my mouth said my heart denied. If I had acted otherwise I should have been a dead man before now."

I then spoke to Adouma of the true God, and told him that nothing in the world lasted forever. Men, women, and children died, just as he saw young and old trees die. Often a young tree would die before an old one. Hence young men and young women would frequently die before older ones.

QUENGUEZA ORDERS ILOGO TO BE CONSULTED ABOUT HIS ILLNESS.—WHAT THE PEOPLE THINK OF ILOGO.—A NOCTURNAL SÉANCE.—SONG TO ILOGO.—A FEMALE MEDIUM.—WHAT ILOGO SAID.

What a strange village Goumbi is! It is well that I am the friend of King Quengueza. The people are so superstitious. We had hardly got over the affair of witchcraft when the people declared they must find some means of ascertaining the cause of the king's sufferings. Quengueza had sent word himself that his people must try to find out fromIlogowhy he was sick, and what he must do for his recovery.

Ilogo is believed by the people to be a spirit living in the moon—a mighty spirit, who looks down upon the inhabitants of the earth—a spirit to whom the black man can talk. "Yes," they said, "Ilogo's face can be seen; look at it." Then they pointed out to me the spots on the moon which we can see with our naked eye. These spots were the indistinct features of the spirit.

One fine evening, at full moon (for, to consult Ilogo, the moon must be full, or nearly so), the women of the village assembled in front of the king's house. Clustered close together, and seated on the ground, with their faces turned toward the moon, they sang songs. They were surrounded by the men of the village. I shall not soonforget that wild scene. The sky was clear and beautiful; the moon shone in its brightness, eclipsing by its light that of the stars, except those of the first magnitude; the air was calm and serene, and the shadows of the tall trees upon the earth appeared like queer phantoms.

THE SONGS TO ILOGO.THE SONGS TO ILOGO.

The songs of the women were to and in praise of Ilogo, the spirit that lived in ogouayli (the moon). Presently a woman seated herself in the centre of the circle of singers and began a solo, gazing steadfastly at the moon, the people every now and then singing in chorus with her. She was to be inspired by the spirit Ilogo to utter prophecies.

At last she gave up singing, for she could not get into a trance. Then another woman took her place, in the midst of the most vociferous singing that could be done by human lips. After a while the second woman gave place to a third—a little woman, wiry and nervous. She seated herself like the others, and looked steadily at the moon, crying out that she could see Ilogo, and then the singing redoubled in fury. The excitement of the people had at that time become very great; the drums beat furiously, the drummers using all their strength, until covered with perspiration; the outsiders shouted madly, and seemed to be almost out of their senses, for their faces were wrinkled in nervous excitement, their eyes perfectly wild, and the contortions they made with their bodies indescribable.

The excitement was now intense, and the noise horrible. The songs to Ilogo were not for a moment discontinued, but the pitch of their voices was so great and so hoarse that the words at last seemed to come with difficulty. The medium, the women, and the men all sang with one accord:

"Ilogo, we ask thee,Tell who has bewitched the king!Ilogo, we ask thee,What shall we do to cure the king?The forests are thine, Ilogo!The rivers are thine, Ilogo!The moon is thine!O moon! O moon! O moon!Thou art the home of Ilogo!Shall the king die? O Ilogo!O Ilogo! O moon! O moon!"

These words were repeated over and over, the people getting more terribly excited as they went on. Thewoman who was the medium, and who had been singing violently, looked toward the moon, and began to tremble. Her nerves twitched, her face was contorted, her muscles swelled, and at last her limbs straightened out. At this time the wildest of all wild excitement possessed the people. I myself looked on with intense curiosity. She fell on her back on the ground, insensible, her face turned up to the moon. She looked as if she had died in a fit.

The song to Ilogo continued with more noise than ever; but at last comparative quiet followed, compelled, I believe, by sheer exhaustion from excitement. But the people were all gazing intently on the woman's face.

I shall not forget that scene by moonlight, nor the corpse-like face of that woman, so still and calm. How wild it all looked! The woman, who lay apparently dead before the savages, was expected at this time to see things in the world of Ilogo—that is to say, the moon—to see the great spirit Ilogo himself; and, as she lay insensible, she was supposed to be holding intercourse with him. Then, after she had conversed with the great spirit Ilogo, she would awake, and tell the people all she saw and all that Ilogo had said to her.

For my part, I thought she really was dead. I approached her, and touched her pulse. It was weak, but there was life. After about half an hour of insensibility she came to her senses, but she was much prostrated. She seated herself without rising, looking round as if stupefied. She remained quite silent for a while, and then began to speak.

"I have seen Ilogo, I have spoken to Ilogo. Ilogo has told me that Quengueza, our king, shall not die; that Quengueza is going to live a long time; that Quenguezawas not bewitched, and that a remedy prepared from such a plant (I forget the name) would cure him. Then," she added, "I went to sleep, and when I awoke Ilogo was gone, and now I find myself in the midst of you."

The people then quietly separated, as by that time it was late, and all retired to their huts, I myself going to mine, thinking of the wild scene I had just witnessed, and feeling that, the longer I remained in that strange country, the more strange the customs of the people appeared to me. Soon all became silent, and nothing but the barking of the watchful little native dogs broke the stillness of the night. The moon continued to shine over that village, the inhabitants of which had run so wild with superstition.

DEPARTURE FROM GOUMBI.—QUERLAOUEN'S VILLAGE.—FIND IT DESERTED.—QUERLAOUEN DEAD.—HE HAS BEEN KILLED BY AN ELEPHANT.—ARRIVE AT OBINDJI'S TOWN.—MEETING WITH QUERLAOUEN'S WIDOW.—NEITHER MALAOUEN NOR GAMBO AT HOME.

After a few days thus spent in Goumbi, we had to get ready to be off.

Adouma made the preparations for our journey; canoes were lying on the banks of the river, waiting to carry the people Quengueza had ordered to go with me. These were, for the most part, the king's slaves. Plantains and cassava had been gathered for our journey. We were to ascend the river as far as Obindji.

One fine morning we started, several very large canoes being filled with men who were to escort me.

Adouma was in my canoe, holding a large paddle as a rudder. We were in a canoe which was chiefly loaded with my outfit and presents.

We left Goumbi silently, for the death of Mpomo made singing out of order. The people were in mourning.

Some of the men who were to accompany me had most curious names, such as Gooloo-Gani, Biembia, Agambie-Mo, Jombai, Monda, Akondogo.

The day became exceedingly hot and sultry, and toward evening we were overtaken by a terrible storm of wind and rain—a real tornado burst upon us.

The next morning we were on our way for the upper river.

I was glad I was about to see my old friend Querlaouen once more. I was also to see my other friends, Malaouen and Gambo.

I had nice presents for Querlaouen, and pretty beads for his wife and children. Among the presents for Querlaouen was a handsome gun and a keg of powder for shooting elephants, leopards, gorilla, and all sorts of wild game.

As we ascended the river I recognized the point on the other side of which was Querlaouen's plantation. I ordered the men to sing, in order that Querlaouen might thus hear of our arrival. The nearer we came to the point the louder became the beatings of my heart. To see old Querlaouen, with whom I had had so many pleasant days; who had bravely shared all kinds of danger with me, including hunger and starvation; with whom I had slain gorilla—I was in a hurry to give to him and his wife their presents. To see such a friend was indeed to have a great treat.

Our canoes soon passed the point. I was looking eagerly, watching for somebody on the river bank. No one! Perhaps our songs had not pierced through the woods. The wind was coming from an opposite direction.

"Sing louder," I exclaimed, for I fancied they did not sing loud enough. They looked at me as if they would have said, "What's the matter with Chally, he looks so excited?" Little did they know my feelings, and how my heart beat for Querlaouen.

They sang louder, till I could hear the echo of their voices among the hills that surrounded us. I looked, but no one was on the shore. Querlaouen might have gone hunting, but surely his wife, or brother, or some of his children must be there. All was silent.

I shouted with all my power, "Querlaouen, your friend Chally has come! your friend Chally has come!" but the hills sent back the echo of my voice to me. I fired a gun, and the echo resounded from hill to hill, and no one came. I began to feel oppressed. A presentiment flashed over my mind. Was Querlaouen dead?

At last I landed on the very shore where Querlaouen lived. Again I shouted, "Querlaouen, where are you?" I called his wife. The silence of death was there.

I advanced, but lo! when I reached the village, it was deserted. Not a soul was seen. The jungle was the thickest where his little clearing had been. The houses had tumbled down. Desolation was before me. The grass had grown to a man's height in the little street.

What a pang of sorrow shot through my heart! I could not help it. I shouted, "Querlaouen! my friend Querlaouen, what has become of you? You are not dead, are you?" and I looked with profound sadness on the scene around. Days that had passed came to my memory.

I retraced my steps, disappointed, and with a foreboding heart. On the river bank, just as I was on the point of stepping into the canoe, a Bakalai came out from the jungle. He had recognized me, and came to meet me.

As soon as I saw him, I cried out, "Where is friend Querlaouen?" His answer seemed so long in coming—"Dead!"

"Dead!" I exclaimed; "Querlaouen dead!" and, I could not help it, two tears rolled down my cheeks.

"Querlaouen dead!" I repeated again. The recollection of that good and noble savage flashed upon me as fast as thought can flash, and once more and in a low voice I said, "Dead! Querlaouen dead!"

When I became composed again, I asked, "How did he die?"

"One day," said the Bakalai man, "a fewmoonsago—it was in the dry season—Querlaouen took his gun and a slave along with him, and went out into the woods to hunt after an elephant which had the day before destroyed a whole plantation of plantain-trees, and had trampled down almost a whole patch of sugar-cane. His slave, who accompanied him, but had left him for a few minutes to look at one of the plantations close by, heard the report of Querlaouen's gun. He waited for his return, but Querlaouen did not come back. He waited so long that he began to feel anxious, and at last set out to seek him. He found him in the forest dead, and trampled into a shapeless mass by the beast, which he had wounded mortally, but which had strength enough to rush at and kill its enemy. Not far from Querlaouen lay the elephant, dead."

How poor Querlaouen, who was so prudent a hunter, could have been caught by the elephant, I could not learn.

The man said it was an aniemba (witchcraft) that had killed Querlaouen; that Querlaouen's brother had bewitched him, and caused, by witchcraft, the elephant to trample upon him.

The brother was killed by the mboundou which thepeople made him drink; for they said his brother made him go hunt that day, when he knew the elephant would kill him.

That family, who really loved each other, and lived in peace and unity, was then divided asunder. The brother being killed, the women and children had gone to live with those to whom they belonged by the law of inheritance, and were thus scattered in several villages.

With a heavy heart I entered my canoe, but not before giving a bunch of beads to the Bakalai who had told me the story of the untimely death of poor Querlaouen.

We ascended the river silently, I thinking of the frailty of human life, and that perhaps a day might come when some elephant would trample upon me, or some ferocious leopard carry me away in his jaws, or some gorilla would, with one blow of his powerful hand, cut my body in two. Perhaps fever might kill me. I might encounter an unfriendly tribe and be murdered.

I raised a silent prayer to the Great Ruler of the universe to protect me, and said, "God, thou knowest that I am guided only by the love of discovering the wonders of thy creation, so that I may tell to my fellow-creatures all that I have seen. I am but a worm; there is no strength in me. What am I in this great forest?" Oh how helpless I felt. The news of Querlaouen's death had very much depressed my spirits, casting a heavy gloom over me.

To this day I love to think of friend Querlaouen, of his family, and of his children, and of the great hunts we have had together.

We finally approached Obindji's town, and soon werelanded on the shore, where his little village was built with the bark of trees.

I need not say what a welcome we received. But lo! what do I see? Querlaouen's wife! She had come here on a visit. As is customary in that country for friends who have not seen each other for a long time, we embraced.

The good woman was so glad to see me. She still wore the marks of her widowhood. Her hair was shorn, she wore no ornament whatever, and did not even wash.

She spent the evening with me, telling me all her troubles, and that, as soon as her season of widowhood was finished, she was to become the wife of Querlaouen's youngest brother. "But," added she, "I will never love any one as I loved Querlaouen." She was to live in the mountains of the Ashankolo.

This was probably the last time I was to see the wife of my good friend Querlaouen, the Bakalai hunter, and all the friendship I ever had for her husband was now hers; so I went quietly to one of my chests, and, taking a necklace of large beads, fixed it round her neck; then put my hand on the top of her head, and gave her abongo(a law), which was, that she must never part with these beads, and that, as years would roll by, she must say, "These beads came from Chally, Querlaouen's friend."

The old woman was so much touched that she trembled, and tears stood in her eyes.

After keeping the necklace for two or three minutes round her neck, she took it off, for a woman in mourning can not wear any ornaments. She said she would keep the beads till she died, and then they should be buried with her. I gave her some other presents, whichshe hid, "for," said she, "if the people knew I had such nice things, they might bewitch me in order to obtain them. Chally, the country is full of aniemba." These last words she uttered in a very low voice.

GIVING BEADS TO QUERLAOUEN'S WIFE.GIVING BEADS TO QUERLAOUEN'S WIFE.

Obindji told me that he had heard Malaouen had gone on some trading expedition. I had, therefore, only to regret not being able to see him or Gambo, who had returned to his own country.

I missed them dreadfully, and I left word with Obindji to tell them to come to the Ashira country after me.

I could not possibly remain, and all the entreaties of friend Obindji could not make me stay. I must go to the Ashira country.

In the mean time, a new comer is to be one of the chiefs of the party. Okendjo, an Ashira man, with Adouma, is going to lead us. Adouma received very positive orders from the king to follow me to the Ashira country. Wherever I go, he must not return without me.

With Bakalai and Goumbi people, amounting to thirty-two men all told, I left the morning after my arrival for the Ashira land.

Okendjo was in his glory; he had conceived the brilliant idea of taking the first moguizi into his country.

LEAVE FOR ASHIRA LAND.—IN A SWAMP.—CROSS THE MOUNTAINS.—A LEOPARD AFTER US.—REACH THE ASHIRA COUNTRY.

Early on that morning of my departure for the Ashira Land we were awakened by the voice of friend Obindji, who was recommending Okendjo to take great care of his "white man," and see that nothing should hurt him.

We were soon under way, and, leaving the Ovenga, ascended the Ofoubou River for three miles and a half, when we unloaded our canoes. Then we struck off due east.

We had very great trouble in getting through the marshy lands which border the river, for they were overflowed to the very foot of the hills.

This was about as hard a piece of traveling as I ever had in my life. The water was so yellow that I could not see to the bottom, which was slimy clay, covering the roots of trees.

I hardly entered the swamp before down I seated myself in a manner I did not like at all. I barely saved my gun from going to the bottom. My foot had slipped on a root. Then I went tottering along, getting hold of all the branches or trees I could reach, at the same timesaying to myself that I did not see the use of such a country.

I was in water from my knees to my waist; below my knees I was in mud. I felt warm enough, for at every step I would go deeper into the sticky mud, and it was difficult to get my feet out again. I took good care to have Okendjo and two or three fellows go ahead of me. They had no clothes, and if they tumbled into the water I did not care; they were not long in drying off.

Finally we got through, and stood at the foot of a mountain ridge along which, we may say, lay the route leading to Ashira Land. Here we gave three cheers, and with cheery hopes I started once more for aterra incognita.

We are lost in the jungle. Under the tall trees a dense jungle covers the ground; lianas hang gracefully from the limbs and trunks of trees. Many of them are covered with flowers. Now and then, huge blocks of quartz rocks are met with. We go along slowly, for we are tired.

Okendjo says that soon we shall reach the promised land, where goats, fowls, plantain, and palm wine are plentiful.

Mountain after mountain had to be ascended. Oh, how hard we worked! How we panted after reaching the summit of a hill. How beautiful were the rivulets, they were so pure, so cool, so nice; their crystalline water rolled in every direction, tumbling over the rocks in foaming cascades, or purling along in a bed of white pebbles. Oh how much they reminded me of the hill-streams and trout-brooks of home; for if the trees I saw had not the foliage of our trees at home, the stones werethe same. The quartz was similar. Nature there, at least, was alike. The rocks were of the same formation.

I felt well and happy. I was on my way to discover new lands, new rivers, new mountains, and new beasts and birds. I was to see new tribes of men whom I had never seen before.

GOING TO ASHIRA LAND.GOING TO ASHIRA LAND.

So I trotted along, Okendjo, Adouma, and I leading the way. By-and-by the country became still more rugged. The blocks of quartz we met were of larger size,and soon our path led us in the midst of huge masses of stones. How queer and small we looked as our caravan filed, one by one, between the ponderous blocks! We looked exactly like pigmies alongside of the huge boulders.

Quite near us were some large ebony-trees; how beautiful their foliage looked, contrasting with the blocks of quartz and granite, some of which were covered with mosses, and others perfectly bare. What could have brought these huge boulders on those mountains? I should not wonder if glaciers had accomplished it in ages that are past. The more rocky the soil, the better ebony-trees appeared to flourish.

How hard the walking was! In many places the rains had washed away the soil from the immense and wide-spreading roots, which ran along the ground like huge serpents—indeed, many of them were just like big boa constrictors.

My feet were so sore by walking on those roots, or rather by stepping from one to another, for I was obliged to wear thin-soled shoes, so that I might bend my feet to seize the roots. If I had worn thick shoes I should have tumbled down at the first jump.

Just before sunset we stopped, and I ordered the camp to be built, the fire-wood to be collected for the night. There were no large leaves to be found, so we all hoped that no rain or tornado would come that night.

We all made beds of such leaves as were to be found; for myself, I put two mats on the top, and lighted, as usual, four fires round me to keep off the wild beasts.

The Bakalai built a camp for themselves, the Ashira built another, and my own was between the two. I laydown, feeling very tired, and prayed to God to take care of me. For a pillow I used the belt which held my revolvers, and taking one of my guns in my arms, I went to sleep.

Toward one o'clock in the morning I was awakened by the loud roaring of a leopard which was prowling round our camp. He had smelled human flesh; probably he had tasted it before, but he dared not approach very close, for the fires were bright and the men awake. He was afraid of the bright light, and his howls testified how enraged he was. He was, no doubt, hungry, but his cowardice kept him back. I ordered some guns to be fired at random in the direction where we heard his growls.

For a while the forest became silent, and the leopard went off. We thought we had frightened him; but, just as we were on the point of going to sleep once more, suddenly the roaring began again, and this time the beast had come nearer. He wanted, no doubt, to make his breakfast upon one of us; but his desires were not to be gratified. I felt mad, as I wanted to sleep, for the next day was to be one of hard traveling.

If I had dared, I would have ventured into the forest after the beast; but the risk was too great, it was so dark. The leopard would have done, no doubt, as cats do, lain flat on the ground and waited for his prey, and pounced upon me as the smaller animal would do upon a mouse. So, as the roars of the beast continued, we concluded to keep awake, first putting more wood on our fires.

The loads we had carried since leaving Obindji had been very heavy, and the sore backs of the men began to show that they had hard work. I was loaded as well as any of them, with powder, shot, my own food, bulletsfor my gun and my revolvers, which I carried in my belt, an extra pair of pantaloons, shoes, etc., etc.

Resuming our journey next morning, I discovered that the fellows had either been eating lots of plantains, or perhaps slyly throwing away a quantity of them, in order to be relieved of the burden. I warned them that if we were short of food they would have to starve first.

They replied, "There are plenty of nuts in the forest—there are plenty of berries in the forest; we can stand being a day without food!"

Toward the evening of that day we began to see signs of a change in the face of the country. Now and then we would pass immense plantations of plantains, the trees loaded with fruit. We came at last to one which gorillas had visited and made short work of, having demolished lots of trees, which lay scattered right and left. Elephants had also made sad havoc in some of the plantations. Then we came across patches of sugar-cane. These plantations were scattered in the great forest, and grew in the midst of innumerable trunks and dead branches of trees that had been cut down.

The soil became more clayey, and at last we emerged from the immense forest. I saw, spread out before me, a new country, the like of which I had not seen since I had been lost in the great equatorial jungle. It was Ashira Land. The prairies were dotted plentifully with villages, which looked in the distance like ant-hills.

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