Several more of the oxen had died. Scarcely enough survived to drag on the waggon.
Ahead lay a level waste covered by scrub. Masiko urged Mr Vincent to wait till nightfall to cross it. He was afraid, he said, that it might be infested by the tsetse, which does not attack cattle at night. The trader, however, was eager to proceed, as he was now near the termination of his journey, and he thought that Masiko was mistaken. Martin suggested that one of the oxen should be sent on first, and that if that was not bitten the rest should follow. His father, however, seemed to have abandoned his usual caution, and insisted on proceeding.
They had not proceeded far across the scrub when several of the dangerous flies were seen on the animals. It was too late to turn back. They must now push on in the hopes that some might escape, which they might do if not severely bitten. The horses might possibly be saved by galloping on, should the dangerous spot not be of any great extent. Mr Vincent therefore directed Martin and Kibo, with two of the men, to push forward with the horses while he himself remained with the waggon.
It was already late in the day before the scrub was passed. Riding on for some distance, Martin and his companions crossed a small stream and encamped on a grassy spot, where they hoped to be safe from further attacks of the deadly tsetse. Examining the horses, however, they found that all had been bitten, while there was no hope that any of the oxen would have escaped.
The disease caused by the bite might not show itself for several days, and the animals might have strength to drag the waggon to the end of the journey; but if bitten, death would certainly be the consequence.
It was late at night before the waggon arrived. Mr Vincent was much out of spirits, for he anticipated the loss of all his oxen. It was the more important, therefore, that they should push on, and the next morning they were again on their journey.
At length the bank of another large river was reached Several villages were seen on the opposite side, the dwellings composed of conical-shaped reed-thatched huts surrounded by circular clay walls. The inhabitants, on observing the waggon, came across in their canoes to welcome the trader, who had before been to their country. They were clothed with skins of animals round their loins and others thrown loosely over their shoulders.
All were eager to ascertain what Mr Vincent had brought; but he could not commence trading until visited by their chief, who would first claim his own dues and make purchases of such articles as he wanted for himself.
The waggon was soon surrounded by natives, who appeared disposed to be friendly.
While Mr Vincent was speaking to them they announced that their chief, Kanenge, was coming across the river. In a short time, a tall man, dressed like his people, except that the skins he wore were handsomer and that feathers ornamented the fillet round his head, landed from a canoe and came up to the waggon. Mr Vincent saluted him, shaking hands in the usual fashion. The chief then taking his seat on the ground, they discussed the business which had brought the trader to the country. One had plenty of goods, the other an abundance of ivory. The chief was as eager to trade as any of his people, and appeared incapable just then of thinking of anything else. Every now and then, however, his eye turned towards young Kibo. At length he remarked how like the lad was to his own tribe. Mr Vincent then told him how he had been captured by Moselekatse’s people some years before, and had been redeemed by the missionary. Kanenge listened with intense interest, and calling to the boy, addressed him. As Kibo replied, the chief’s before somewhat stern countenance became animated and eager. He continued putting questions to Kibo, to which the boy replied, and then eagerly asked several in return. At length, with a cry of delight, the chief sprang up, and pressing young Kibo in his arms, exclaimed—