We were greeted with immense delight on our arrival, for those natives, we soon discovered, had already heard of our exploits in the lands of the gorilla, and regarded us as the greatest hunters that had ever been born. After a short conversation with the chief, through the medium of Makarooroo, we arranged to rest there a day, and accompany them on their hunting expedition; and the better to secure their good will, we presented some of the head men with a few of the beads which we still possessed. Then hauling our canoe out of the water, we prepared ourselves for the chase.
After a long and tedious march through somewhat dense jungle, we came upon the ground, which was partly open, partly clothed with trees and shrubs. Here the natives, who numbered several hundreds, spread themselves out in a long semicircular line, in order to drive the game into the trap.
As we followed them, or rather formed part of the line, I overheard the following conversation between Peterkin and Makarooroo, who chanced to be together.
“Now, Mak,” said the former, examining the caps of his rifle, “explain to me what sort of trap this is that we’re coming to, and what sort of brutes we may expect to find in it.”
“De trap, massa,” replied our faithful follower, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth—“de trap am be call hopo—”
“Called what-o?” inquired Peterkin.
“Hopo.”
“Oh! go on.”
“An’ hims be made ob great number oh sticks tumble down—an’ hole at de end ob dat; an’ de beasties dat goes in be zebros, elosphants, eelands, buff’los, gaffs, nocrices, noos, an’ great more noders ob which me forgit de names.”
“Oh! you forgit de names, do you?”