As The Village Was But A Stone's Throw From Our Encampment, Before Many Minutes Had Elapsed The Wrinkled Elder Made His Appearance At The Door Of My Tent With About Half The Village Behind Him.

The following dialogue which took place will serve to illustrate the tempers of the people with whom I was about to have a year's trading intercourse:

White Man. - "Are you the great chief of Kingaru?"

Kingaru. - "Huh-uh. Yes."

W. M. - "The great, great chief?"

Kingaru. - "Huh-uh. Yes."

W. M. - " How many soldiers have you?"

Kingaru. - " Why?"

W. M. - "How many fighting men have you?"

Kingaru. - "None."

W. M. - "Oh! I thought you might have a thousand men with you, by your going to fine a strong white man, who has plenty of guns and soldiers, two doti for burying a dead horse."

Kingaru (rather perplexed). - " No; I have no soldiers. I have only a few young men,"

W. M. - "Why do you come and make trouble, then?"

Kingaru. - "It was not I; it was my brothers who said to me, `Come here, come here, Kingaru, see what the white man has done! Has he not taken possession of your soil, in that he has put his horse into your ground without your permission? Come, go to him and see by what right.' Therefore have I come to ask you, who gave you permission to use my soil for a burying-ground?"

W. M. "I want no man's permission to do what is right.

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