"Your ever true and faithful
"HERCULES."
As far as it went, this intelligence was satisfactory. A kitanda, I know, is a kind of litter made of dry grass, protected by a curtain, and carried on the shoulders of two men by a long bamboo. What a relief to know that Mrs. Weldon and Jack have been spared the miseries of this dreadful march! May I not indulge the hope of seeing them at Kazonndé?
12th.-The prisoners getting more and more weary and worn out. Blood-stains on the way still more conspicuous. Many poor wretches are a mass of wounds. One poor woman for two days has carried her dead child, from which she refuses to be parted.
l6th.-Small-pox raging; the road strewn with corpses. Still ten days before we reach Kazonndé. Just passed a tree from which slaves who had died from hunger were hanging by the neck.
18th.-Must not give in, but I am almost exhausted. Rains have ceased. We are to make what the dealers call trikesa, extra marches in the after-part of the day. Road very steep; runs through nyassi, tall grass of which the stalks scratch my face, and the seeds get under my tattered clothes and make my skin smart painfully. My boots fortunately are thick, and have not worn out. More slaves sick and abandoned to take their chance. Provisions running very short; soldiers and pagazis must be satisfied, otherwise they desert; consequently the slaves are all but starved. "They can eat each other," say the agents. A young slave, apparently in good health, dropped down dead. It made me think of Livingstone's description of how free-born men, reduced to slavery, will suddenly press their hand on their side, and die of a broken heart.
[Illustration: More slaves sick, and abandoned to take their chance.]
24th.-Twenty captives, incapable any longer of keeping pace with the rest, put to death by the havildars, the Arab chief offering no opposition. Poor old Nan one of the victims of this horrible butchery. My foot struck her corpse as I passed, but I was not permitted to give her a decent burial. Poor old Nan! the first of the survivors of the "Pilgrim" to go to her long rest! Poor old Nan!
Every night I watch for Dingo; but he never comes. Has Hercules nothing more to communicate? or has any mishap befallen him? If he is alive he will do what mortal strength can do to aid us.