Rowing Away Like Madmen, Until They Were Compelled To Rest From Sheer Exhaustion, While The Perspiration Exuded From The Pores Of Their Bodies In Streams.

When refreshed, they bent back to their oars, raising the song of the Mrima -

O mama, re de mi Ky,

which soon impelled them to an extravagant effort again, It was by this series of ferocious spurts, racing, shouting, singing, perspiring, laughing, groaning, and puffing, that our people vented their joyous feelings, as the thought filled their minds that we were homeward bound, and that by the route I had adopted between us and Unyanyembe there was not the least danger.

We have given the Waha, the slip! ha, ha! The Wavinza will trouble us no more! ho! ho! Mionvu can get no more cloth from us! hy,by! And Kiala will see us no more - -never more! he, he!

they shouted with wild bursts of laughter, seconded by tremendous and rapid strokes with their oars, which caused the stiff old canoes to quiver from stem to stern.

Our party ashore seemed to partake of our excitement, and joined in the wild refrain of the mad African song. We watched them urging their steps forward to keep pace with us, as we rounded the capes and points, and rowed across the bays whose margins were sedge, and rush, and reed; the tiny and agile Kalulu, little Bilali, and Majwara were seen racing the herds of goats, sheep, and donkeys which belonged to the caravan, and the animals even seemed to share the general joy.

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