The ipi, I was told, was very rare. Years had passed away, and no ipi had been seen by me; but some time ago King Olenga-Yombi had sent me word that an ipi had been near his plantation of Nkongon-Boumba, and I had come specially to hunt the ipi.
Many of the king's slaves had come from far-away tribes, and queer and ugly fellows they were, with lean legs, prominent abdomens, retreating foreheads, and projecting mouths.
The day of my arrival we rested. The good slaves and their kind wives brought fowls, plantains, pea-nuts, sugar-cane, some pine-apples, little lemons, wild honey, dried fish—in fact, they brought to me the best things they had. I gave them nice beads, and to some of the leading slaves I gave red caps.
That night there was dancing. The idol or mbuiti was consulted as to the results of the chase, for these interior people are very superstitions. They sang songs welcoming me.
The next morning a few of the leading slaves and myself started for an ipi hunt.
