7th. - In The Morning, Whilst It Rained Hard, The King Sent To Say
That He Had Started Buffalo-Shooting, And Expected Me To Join
Him.
After walking a mile beyond the palace, we found him in a
plantain garden, dressed in imitation of myself, wideawake and
all, the perfect picture of a snob.
He sent me a pot of pombe,
which I sent home to the women, and walked off for the shooting-
ground, two miles further on, the band playing in the front,
followed by some hundred Wakungu - then the pages, then the king,
next myself, and finally the women - the best in front, the worst
bringing up the rear, with the king's spears and shield, as also
pots of pombe, a luxury the king never moves without. It was
easy to see there would be no sport, still more useless of offer
any remarks, therefore all did as they were bid. The broad road,
like all in Uganda, went straight over hill and dale, the heights
covered with high grass or plantain groves, and the valleys with
dense masses of magnificent forest-trees surrounding swamps
covered with tall rushes half bridged. Proceeding on, as we came
to the first water, I commenced flirtations with Mtesa's women,
much to the surprise of the king and every one. The bridge was
broken, as a matter of course; and the logs which composed it,
lying concealed beneath the water, were toed successively by the
leading men, that those who followed should not be tripped up by
them.
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