Finally, the word is bruited
about that we are Wangwana, from Unyanyembe.
"Well, then, is Mirambo dead?" they ask.
"No," we answer.
"Well, how did you come to Ukaranga?"
"By way of Ukonongo, Ukawendi, and Uhha."
" Oh - hi-le!" Then they laugh heartily at their fright, and begin
to make excuses. The King is introduced to me, and he says he had
only gone to the woods in order to attack us again - he meant to have
come back and killed us all, if we had been Ruga-Ruga. But then we
know the poor King was terribly frightened, and would never have
dared to return, had we been RugaRuga - not he. We are not, however,
in a mood to quarrel with him about an idiomatic phrase peculiar
to him, but rather take him by the hand and shake it well, and say
we are so very glad to see him. And he shares in our pleasure,
and immediately three of the fattest sheep, pots of beer, flour,
and honey are brought to us as a gift, and I make him happier still
with two of the finest cloths I have in my bales; and thus a
friendly pact is entered into between us.
While I write my Diary of this day's proceedings, I tell my
servant to lay out my new flannel suit, to oil my boots, to
chalk my helmet, and fold a new puggaree around it, that I may
make as presentable an appearance as possible before the white
man with the grey beard, and before the Arabs of Ujiji; for the
clothes I have worn through jungle and forest are in tatters.
Good-night; only let one day come again, and we shall see what
we shall see.
November 10th. Friday. - The 236th day from Bagamoyo on the Sea,
and the 51st day from Unyanyembe. General direction to Ujiji,
west-by-south. Time of march, six hours.
It is a happy, glorious morning. The air is fresh and cool.
The sky lovingly smiles on the earth and her children. The deep
woods are crowned in bright vernal leafage; the water of the Mkuti,
rushing under the emerald shade afforded by the bearded banks,
seems to challenge us for the race to Ujiji, with its continuous
brawl.
We are all outside the village cane fence, every man of us looking
as spruce, as neat, and happy as when we embarked on the dhows at
Zanzibar, which seems to us to have been ages ago - we have witnessed
and experienced so much.
"Forward!"
"Ay Wallah, ay Wallah, bana yango!" and the lighthearted braves
stride away at a rate which must soon bring us within view of
Ujiji. We ascend a hill overgrown with bamboo, descend into a
ravine through which dashes an impetuous little torrent, ascend
another short hill, then, along a smooth footpath running across
the slope of a long ridge, we push on as only eager, lighthearted
men can do.
