This ended a troublous day, and the rest we now sought was well earned.

Inspecting the aneroid on reaching the camping-place, we discovered that we had made a descent of 2,250 feet since we had left our post of observation on the verge of the plateau above.

On the 14th we left the base of the plateau, and marched across the plain that gently sloped for 5 miles to the lake. As we travelled on, we examined closely if among the thin forest of acacia any tree would likely be available for a canoe; but the plain was destitute of all but acacia, thorn-bush, tamarind, and scrub—a proof that the soil, though sufficiently rich for the hardier trees, had enough acrid properties—nitre, alkali, or salts—to prevent the growth of tropical vegetation. We, however, trusted that we should be enabled to induce the natives to part with a canoe, or, as was more likely, probably Emin Pasha had visited the south end 1887.
Dec. 14.
Albert
Nyanza. of the lake, according to my request, and had made arrangements with the natives for our reception. If not, why ultimately perhaps we should have legitimate excuse for taking a temporary loan of a canoe.

About a mile and a half from the lake we heard some natives cutting fuel in a scrubby wood, not far from the road. We halted, and maintained silence while the interpreter attempted to obtain a reply to his friendly hail. For ten minutes we remained perfectly still, waiting until the person, who proved to be a woman, deigned to answer. Then, for the first time in Africa, I heard as gross and obscene abuse as the traditional fishwoman of Billingsgate is supposed to be capable of uttering. We were obliged to desist from the task of conciliating such an unwomanly virago.

We sent the interpreter ahead with a few men to the village at the lake side, which belonged to a chief called Katonza, and sometimes Kaiya Nkondo, with instructions to employ the utmost art possible to gain the confidence of the inhabitants, and by no means to admit rebuff by words or threats, hostile action only to be accepted as an excuse for withdrawal. We, in the meantime, were to follow slowly, and then halt until summoned, close to the settlement.

The villagers were discovered totally unconscious of our approach and neighbourhood. Their first impulse, on seeing our men, was to fly; but, observing that they were not pursued, they took position on an anthill at an arrow-flight's distance, more out of curiosity than goodwill. Perceiving that our men were obliging, polite, and altogether harmless, they sanctioned the approach of the caravan, and on seeing a white man they were induced to advance near, while assurances of friendliness were being assiduously reiterated. About forty natives mustered courage to draw near for easy parley, and then harangues and counter-harangues, from one side to the other, one party vowing by their lives, by the love of their throats, by the blue sky above, that no harm was intended or evil meditated—that only friendship and goodwill were sought, for which due gifts 1887.
Dec. 14.
Albert
Nyanza. would be given, the other averring that though their hesitation might be misjudged, and possibly attributed to fear, still they had met—often met—a people called the Wara-Sura, armed with guns like ours, who simply killed people. Perhaps, after all, we were Wara-Sura, or their friends, for we had guns also, in which case they were quite ready to fight the instant they were assured we were Wara-Sura or their allies.

"Wara-Sura! Wara-Sura! What men are these? We never heard of the name before. Whence are they?" &c., &c., and so on unceasingly for three mortal hours in the hot sun. Our cajolings and our winsomest smiles began to appear of effect, but they suddenly assumed moodiness, and expressed their suspicion in the harsh, rasping language of Unyoro, which grated horribly on the hearing. In the end our effort was a complete failure. We had, unknown to ourselves, incurred their suspicion by speaking too kindly of Unyoro and of Kabba Rega, who, we found later, was their mortal enemy. They would not accept our friendship, nor make blood-brotherhood, nor accept even a gift. They would give us water to drink, and they would show the path along the lake.

"You seek a white man, you say. We hear there is one at Kabba Rega's (Casati). Many, many years ago a white man came from the north in a smoke-boat (Mason Bey), but he went away, but that was when we were children. There has been no strange boat on our waters since. We hear of strange people being at Buswa (Mswa), but that is a long way from here. There northward along the lake lies your way. All the wicked people come from there. We never heard any good of men who came in from the Ituri either. The Wara-Sura sometimes come from there."

They condescended to show us the path leading along the shore of the lake, and then stood aside on the plain, bidding us, in not unfriendly tones, to take heed of ourselves, but not a single article for their service would they accept. Wondering at their extraordinary manner, and without a single legitimate excuse to quarrel with 1887.
Dec. 14.
Albert
Nyanza. them, we proceeded on our way meditatively, with most unhappy feelings.

Pondering upon the strange dead stop to that hopefulness which had hitherto animated us, it struck us that a more heartless outlook never confronted an explorer in wild Africa than that which was now so abruptly revealed to us. From the date of leaving England, January 21, 1887, to this date of 14th December, it never dawned on us that at the very goal we might be baffled so completely as we were now. There was only one comfort, however, in all this; there was henceforward no incertitude. We had hoped to have met news of the Pasha here. A governor of a province, with two steamers, life-boats, and canoes, and thousands of people we had imagined would have been known everywhere on such a small lake as the Albert, which required only two days' steaming from end to end. He could not, or he would not, leave Wadelai, or he knew nothing yet of our coming.[10] When compelled through excess of weakness to leave our steel boat at Ipoto, we had hoped one of three things: either that the Pasha, warned by me of my coming, would have prepared the natives for our appearance, or that we could purchase or make a canoe of our own. The Pasha had never visited the south end of the lake; there was no canoe to be obtained, nor was there any tree out of which one could be made.