Little Cuckoo,
who, although hardly seven years old, was as strong as a little pony,
strode along behind my horse, carrying upon his head my small travelling
bag.
Everybody was in the best spirits, as the reaction from despair
to success was delightful. We were really off at last, and were actually
on the march to the interior.
That evening we halted at a village on the heights, only three miles
from the vessels. The natives had deserted their habitations on our
approach, and would not come near us. I ordered the troops to save their
flour, and to eat from that discovered in the village, for which on the
following morning I left two cows as a present. They were tied up in the
native zareeba. The cows were worth at least fifty times the flour we
had consumed; but I wished to adopt this plan throughout the journey to
Lobore, in order to establish confidence, and to open up the road for
the future.
On 9th February we started at 5.35 a.m., and marched two hours and a
half through a very beautiful undulating country, diversified with
rocks, streams, and handsome park-like timber.
We halted at a village called Koojok, beneath a large fig-tree (Ficus
Indica). Our old friend Lokko appeared to be perfectly well known, and
he at once introduced us to the natives, who received us without fear or
suspicion.
