Chapter VIII: “troublous Times.”

Hitherto I had lived like Robinson Crusoe, in happy ignorance of savage and hostile neighbours. The only possible things of harm that I could have anticipated in my lonely rambles would have been a crafty leopard, pouncing on me from an overhanging bough, or the sudden onrush of a solitary buffalo. But now I was metaphorically and actually to see the footprints of my human foes imprinted in my favourite haunts. Whereas before my rambles on the mountains had been merely bounded by the short leisure time at my disposal, they were now to be circumscribed by the ring of warlike enemies that surrounded us. I have already explained to you the reason I selected Mandara’s kingdom as my base of operations on Kilima-njaro. It was usually supposed, before my journey took place, that he was the paramount ruler of the mountain states, and it was thought that if I placed myself under Mandara’s protection I might range free and undisturbed over the whole of this African Switzerland. In this, however, a great mistake was made, because Mandara ruled over a relatively small tract of land, and only up to 6000 feet in altitude. He did _not_ command the shortest or any route to the higher regions near the snow-peaks; and being at constant war with his neighbours, and his little kingdom in a continued state of blockade, his protection, as far as it influenced a peaceful residence on the upper slopes of the mountain, was worse than useless. Unfortunately, too, Mandara had made immediate use of the two or three barrels of gunpowder I had innocently given him, and had further availed himself of the moral support which my presence at his court afforded to wage a rash and unprovoked war on his neighbours, and to rob them in various well-planned raids of their wives and cattle, adding the latter to his herds and the former to his harem, and checking their enraged pursuits with the lofty threats that, if they dared to infringe the territory of Moši, “his” white man would pickle them alive. Consequently, while I was so tranquilly and innocently pursuing my quiet avocations, skinning birds, drying plants, building houses, and cutting roads amid the ferny glades around my growing settlement, far from the turmoil of war, and unconscious of the perpetration of ill deeds, the unhappy people of Kirua, Kibôšo, and Maraṅu were connecting the loss of their womankind and cows with my advent in Čaga, and naturally vowing me a life-long hatred. In the meantime my porters were returning from Taita with the rest of my goods, and in due time approached the base of the mountain. As they journeyed tranquilly one afternoon towards the frontier of Moši, and were congratulating themselves that a short march the next day would bring them to my settlement, their leader descried in the distance a body of men moving cautiously amongst the brushwood. Fearing lest they were Masai, he immediately made a forward rush for a camping-place close at hand—in fact, the very same site, a little peninsula nearly surrounded by a rivulet, where on the former journey lions had besieged us, as described in Chapter IV. The noise of their quick movement attracted the notice of the band of savages, who were evidently watching for the passage of my men, and they ran hastily towards the river to intercept the latter, thinking they were going to cross; but on arriving there they found the twenty Zanzibaris drawn up on the “almost-island” with their guns cocked and ready. The savages hesitated, and stopped to parley. Seeing this my head-man, Kiongwe, resolved to delay their action with conversation as far as possible till darkness should supervene and put a temporary stoppage on warlike deeds, for, as no doubt all well know, most Africans dread to fight at night. After a short silence the leader of the enemy asked, in a hesitating way, “Who are you?” “We are the servants of the white man who lives at Mandara’s,” proudly replied Kiongwe. “Then you are bad men,” shrieked his interpellator with sudden fury. “Your master has helped Makindara (Mandara) to attack us, and he has given him strong medicine to make him conquer. Makindara has robbed us of many things; now you shall pay. Give us all those goods you are carrying, and return to Taveita; you shan’t pass by here.” Kiongwe was a cunning man. He saw that it was well-nigh impossible for twenty heavily-burdened men to force their way through an armed band of fifty, so he prudently replied in conciliatory terms, “My master is not a bad man; he has fought nobody, and knows nothing of Mandara’s wars. See, it is now getting dark. Let us sleep here till dawn, then we will speak again about this matter.” Whereupon he told the porters to cut boughs from the surrounding trees and roughly hedge in the encampment, and to gather firewood from around to make blazing watch-fires. The savages meanwhile disposed themselves sullenly in a circle round the little camp. Darkness fell. One by one the simple-minded enemy sank to sleep, confident that their prey feared the night as they themselves did, and would neither attack nor attempt to flee before the dawn. But Kiongwe kept all his men awake, made the watch-fires blaze, then at midnight, when his foes were snoring with sweet unanimity, he gave a stealthy word of command, the men rose silently, hoisted their burthens on their heads, clutched their guns, and one by one leaving the encampment, picked their way like cautious cats amid the sleeping forms of the besiegers. So, whether observed or not, they walked out into the darkness unopposed, and if any of the enemy slept not, and saw them go, his tongue was tied, and he dared not give the warning to his comrades, for—who could tell?—perhaps, after all, they were not men but ghosts, and none may fight with spirits in the enshrouding night.

Kiongwe and his men stumbled along perseveringly for several hours, and then, having put a good distance between themselves and their possible pursuers, lay down to rest and wait for the dawn, for the last part of their journey offered many obstacles in the darkness to burdened men. I should have told you, in proper sequence, that soon after nightfall Kiongwe had detached from the camp two lithe, active men, relieved them of their burdens, and enjoined them to elude the enemy and make their way speedily to my settlement, warn me of the state of affairs, and ask for advice and assistance. Accordingly, as I was leisurely undressing that night, at about eleven o’clock, having sat up unusually late to write my diary, I heard knocks at the door, and men saying, “Hodi, hodi?” (“Hodi” is a polite Swahili term, somewhat equivalent to “May I come in?”) Virapan, my servant, opened and admitted Mabruki Majera and Ali Masi, Kiongwe’s two messengers. They told me the news in hurried gasps and with a little natural exaggeration. Amazed and indignant that my men should be in danger from savages whom I had never knowingly harmed, I hurried on my things, and, in my impetuosity, was about to dash off with a few men to Kiongwe’s assistance. But the more prudent of my followers counselled a wiser course. They represented that in the dark night I might either lose my way or break my leg in some unseen pitfall, or else tumble unprepared on the hidden enemy, who might despatch me in the darkness without even the chance of knowing I was white, and superior to the common run of men. At any rate, they advised that we should first apprise Mandara of our predicament, and seek counsel and assistance from him. Accordingly I immediately started for Mandara’s, and had quite enough experience on the way of the difficulties and dangers of a mountain track on a dark night to be thankful I had followed my men’s advice, and not sought the foe under these disadvantageous conditions.

We found Mandara—I had sent a messenger on ahead—seated with a company of his warriors under the large open shed in which he ordinarily received visitors or transacted business. He looked rather blinky, having but recently left his slumbers, but on my entry checked a huge yawn, and beckoned me, with a wan smile, to take a seat by his side. His warriors were squatting round blazing fires, stretching their hands to the blaze, for it was a chilly night, and their shoulders twitched and trembled with convulsive shivering. I stated the case to Mandara in, perhaps, rather a theatrical manner, and informed him I intended to go and seek my men at once and bring them back, whether the enemy objected or not. “Who,” I concluded, “would dare to fight a white man?” Mandara heard me with a quiet smile, and then, interrupting, said to my men, “Your master is talking nonsense (upumbafu). How does he suppose he can find his way to these men at night? Perhaps he will lose the road, and a lion will kill him, or he may fall into the hands of the Wa-kibôšo, and _they_ won’t be afraid to cut his throat. No, this is but a little matter, and not worth the risking of a white man’s life. When the time comes for your master to fight, he and I shall go to war side by side. Now I will tell you what shall be done. I will send sixty of my soldiers at once, and they shall take two of you with them to speak the Swahili tongue to Kiongwe, otherwise he may mistake them for his enemies and shoot. You shall go there with my men and bring the white man’s carriers safely back.” There was so much good sense in what Mandara said that I resolved to acquiesce, at any rate for the present, so I bade him good-bye, left two of my men behind, and crept back along the uncertain path to my demesne. As we went we saw the war-fires gleam out from hill to hill, we heard the war-cry re-echoing from gorge to gorge, and on the road we, from time to time, encountered swarthy naked forms hurrying to the rendezvous. Some had started from their sleep and merely seized their spears and shields, without waiting to don their martial costume, and wives and children were running after them with plumes of Colobus skin and carapace of kite’s feathers. All greeted us with hysteric friendliness as they passed, and when I met band after band of warriors, I could not help feeling thankful that they were friends, not foes.

I returned home and slept till dawn; then, being awakened with the first streaks of returning light, and finding that none of my men had arrived, I hesitated no longer, armed myself and my few followers, and took the road to the plains. After walking for some two hours I, who was in front, saw the bushes in the distance moving and heard the low voices of men. I was just preparing for a grim emergency and standing in the path, revolver in hand, imagining it was the enemy I had to confront, when a familiar face emerged from the scrub, I saw a burthen carried on the head, and I at once knew it was my missing caravan approaching. I greeted the foremost men affectionately, and passed on to the rear of the little column, bidding the others hurry forward. There I found Kiongwe, and he gave me a hasty account of his adventures. After reposing a short time in a dry river-bed, they had arisen with the dawn, and once more continued their march. Whilst we were talking, loud voices were heard behind, and there appeared my two men, who had accompanied Mandara’s soldiers, and who were now scurrying along with a few Moši men following in a disorderly crowd. Directly they saw me they shrieked, “Oh, master, run for your life; the Wa-šenzi (savages) are coming.” However, I preserved, fortunately, a little presence of mind, otherwise these injudicious men would have caused a regular panic, as my porters were preparing to cast down their loads and flee. But with a few peremptory words I rallied them, and we beat an orderly retreat just in time. Soon after we had reached our little eyrie, wherein I felt so snug and secure, we could hear the distant cries of the baffled and pursuing enemy. It appeared that the sixty soldiers of Mandara, who had gone to relieve my men, passed them on the road, and went on professing their longing to exterminate the presumptuous foe; but no sooner did they come within gunshot of the enemy, who had just awakened and begun to follow the spoor of the fugitives, than the hardy warriors of Mandara took to flight, and under these conditions my two men accompanying them wisely followed their example. A hot pursuit ensued, from which we just escaped, and the enemy, following Mandara’s flying men, was diverted from our track and dashed along the road to Mandara’s capital. In the vicinity, however, of their chief’s residence, inspired no doubt to fight _pro aris et focis_, the men of Moši made a stand; they were reinforced, and a desperate battle took place, in which the enemy was ultimately worsted. But in the meantime Mandara’s neighbours on his western and northern frontier, seeing his guards removed to combat the invaders on the southern side, took advantage of the unprotected state of this part of his kingdom, crossed the border, laid waste with fire and sword, captured cattle and women, and indulged in sweet revenge for many a former raid on their own homesteads. When we saw from our high ridge the smoke rising from the burning villages of Western Moši, and simultaneously heard the din of battle coming from the southern frontier, we felt it was time to take a definite part in the conflict. Should Mandara be crushed between two forces, and vanquished, we might expect scant mercy from the victorious enemy. Accordingly, the chief of Moši having sent a messenger asking for advice and ammunition, I immediately armed twenty of my own men with Sniders and muzzle-loading guns, took a barrel of powder, a box of cartridges, and a bag of buckshot; and, _further, in view of an eventuality which I had often anticipated even in England_, I packed a mysterious box with some of the contents of a watertight case, and gave it to one of my men with the strictest injunctions as to its careful porterage.

As we wound along the hill-side towards Mandara’s we found the narrow path choked with lowing kine and bleating goats. At the approach of war and invasion the inhabitants of Moši were driving all their cattle to Mandara’s fortress. Thither we also went our way. Ordinarily the chief would pass his days in a circle of four or five beehive huts and open sheds, surrounded by a low hedge of dracænas and exposed to view from the village green; but in troublous times he withdrew to an extraordinary fastness which merits a word or two of description. To the south of these visible huts, which to an unsuspecting passer-by constituted the entirety of Mandara’s town, rose a dense grove of unusually fine bananas. The initiated who wished to approach the hidden citadel wound through their cool green shade by circuitous paths, patent to all at this time by the press of cattle that thronged them, and then arrived at a stockade of living forest. The chief of Moši had girt about his stronghold with a compact band of trees, dug up by the roots as saplings and planted alive, so that with a year or two’s growth their trunks had thickened and left no space between. Further, they were planted in the outer works four deep, and, being alive and green, their network of foliage masked the fortress with a living grove which would not be set fire to with the same ease as a stockade of dead timber. One small opening alone appeared, through which cattle could just be pushed, and which, during a siege, was closed with heavy wooden doors and guarded with the two small cannon Mandara possessed. We made our way through the lowing herds of cattle, passed many minor bulwarks and hedges, and at length arrived before a large building of wattle and clay, shaped almost like a European house. Herein Mandara was sitting with his wives and children, and, in strange contrast to his usual majestic demeanour, seemed quite tremulous with fear. His western borders were being devastated unopposed, and all his soldiers were engaged in fierce battle on the southern side. I sat some while with him, and assured him of my earnest co-operation and of our ultimate invincibility. Then loud shouts began to sound nearer and nearer to the tree-girt walls, and while his attendants rushed to inspect the on-comers, Mandara clutched my hand and implored me not to leave him. But he had no cause for further alarm. The shouting came from his own victorious soldiers, who, after a desperate battle of several hours’ duration, had succeeded in beating back the enemy’s invasion on the southern frontier, and were now prepared, after quenching their thirst, to go and avenge their slaughtered brethren on the west. This news made Mandara a new man. He shook me by both hands, he laughed aloud, skipped about, and then seizing his huge broad-bladed spear, he struck the ground with its shaft, drew up his fine figure to its full height, and strode about the compound with haughty mien and gleaming eye, the very embodiment of a warrior chief, and very different to the almost lubberly creature who a few minutes before had been well-nigh whimpering with fear.

Some of his soldiers who had just arrived wore the most extraordinary war costumes, evidently designed to strike terror into their foes. Most of them had, as a good foundation, plastered their skins with red ochre and mutton fat, and on this had drawn, especially about the face, most ludicrous designs in white—white rings round the eyes, or white spots on their cheeks. This gave them a look like an English clown, with a dash of the typical bogey that haunts the dream of every childhood. On their heads were crescents made of ostrich feathers, or caps of the Colobus monkey skin. This last-mentioned animal (_Colobus Gueresa, var. nov. Caudatus_) also supplied them with mantles of long black and white fur, and contributed the heavily plumed tails which these Čaga soldiers fixed on to that portion of their body where tails should rightly appear if man had not dispensed with such appendages. Some of the men wore thick capes of kites’ feathers round the shoulders, and not a few had tied round the head masks of ghastly ugliness, with a double face, looking behind and before. They were all very excited about their exploits, and many screamed out hysterically in high falsetto voices. One unusually quiet man was pointed out to me as a great hero. It was said that, being surprised collecting firewood in the forest, and attacked by three of the enemy with spears and swords, he had succeeded in parrying their blows with a wooden stake, had disarmed them, and killed them all three.

Whilst we stood listening to this clamour two soldiers staggered in, a ghastly sight, streaming with blood, though their wounds were not serious, and they brought the news that Mandara’s brother, who was defending the western frontier, was hard pressed by the enemy, and had begun to retreat. At these serious tidings a silence fell on the assembly. I then proposed to Mandara that I should start at once, and try to give a decisive turn to the conflict against the Wa-Kibôšo. Moreover, I had a certain plan in my mind that I was very anxious to carry out. After a little deliberation our mode of procedure was settled, and Mandara’s remaining soldiers, having quenched their thirst with liberal draughts of banana-beer, which the women were constantly brewing, now prepared to start once more for the fray. One body of about a hundred started off under the command of Mandara’s chief captain, and marched towards the north-west, hoping to take the enemy in flank, while my little force, accompanied by some native guides and a few of Mandara’s Swahilis, directed itself due west towards the smoking villages. A very little experience showed me that I could not fight like a Čaga man. When I had descended my seventh ravine and was preparing to mount the eight escarpment along our route under a blazing sun, I devoutly hoped the enemy might not be waiting for us at the top, otherwise all that I could do would be to throw myself breathless and perspiring at his feet, and let him do his worst. But although the enemy was there when we reached the summit, he was harmless; that is to say, we found nothing but dead bodies around us when we had scaled the height, for by another turn in the fortune of war the Wa-Kibôšo were once more retreating before Mandara’s forces. Stopping here to rest and regain breath, I looked for the first time on the bodies of men slain in war, and the sight was quite sufficiently bloody to appal the most callous nature. The weapons which had effected the greatest slaughter in the skirmish had been the great shovel-bladed spears made after the fashion of the Masai. Though Mandara boasted so much of his guns, yet in the hands of these untrained savages, who have no idea of aim, they were almost innocuous weapons, whereas the spears used hand to hand inflicted horrible wounds. Here were corpses disembowelled by a lunge and a twist of the spear. Others had their backs literally carved open down the spine. Most of the severed heads had probably been chopped off by the short Roman swords which the Čaga soldiers carry. Hereabouts was quite a typical field of carnage. In many places the ground was pappy with oozing blood. In others little pools of gore were coagulating and caking under the fierce sunlight. The tall blades of the trampled grass were flecked and splashed with brown drops of the dried fluid. The place looked and smelt like a shambles. Already the many hideous creatures that make their living out of scenes of slaughter were swarming forth, emboldened with the scent of blood. Great green flies buzzed over the stark bodies of the slain, ants swarmed in myriads round the flakes of gore, while, strange contrast! lovely butterflies, blue and black, gold and black, metallic green and saffron yellow, paused intoxicated on the blood-soaked ground, greedily sucking up the thickening, frothy liquid with the enjoyment of ghouls. The neighbouring trees and bushes were dotted with vultures and crows, only waiting our departure to fling themselves on the feast. With a saddened and disgusted feeling I left this scene, almost loathing friends and foes alike. Why, in the midst of such superb scenery, with smiling plenty exhibited on every hand, could these silly savages think of nothing but mutual extermination? It was curious to look from the bloody field of battle to the great dazzling snowy dome which rose above us to the north, immaculate, pure, and freezing in its isolation, and then think that it, after all, was the cause of all this trouble. If Kilima-njaro had not drawn me hither on this quest, the people of Moši and Kibôšo would not have come to blows on my behalf, and these poor mutilated corpses might still have been live men in the prime of life, eating, drinking, laughing with their wives and children. Must it be that I should walk through blood to reach the snow?

Once more the din of battle reached our ears. The enemy was again engaged with the forefront of Mandara’s forces. We could see them fighting amid the banana groves covering a distant slope, or at least we could see the little puffs of white smoke which rose continually from amongst the green maze of fronds, and hear the popping of guns and the faint shouts and battle-cries. Over their heads soared grimly a flight of vultures waiting for their coming repast. As we were seen marching to the field of action, guns firing and flags flying, Mandara’s men pressed on their enemies with renewed valour, encouraged by our approach, and the disheartened Wa-kibôšo yielded and fled up the hill-side till they reached the summit, where they turned and halted, met by reinforcements. The men of Moši were too exhausted to follow, and when I had arrived on the scene I found them crouching down at the foot of the hill, watching their foes. Had the Wa-kibôšo now charged down the slope on us, whom they greatly outnumbered, the consequences for our side might have been disastrous; for Mandara’s weary men began to waver, and seemed to think of going home and leaving me to settle the conflict, and my own men were not only worn out with their previous night’s walk, but were further tired by our long tramp to the field of battle. We should therefore have been unfitted to withstand the impetuous rush of two or three hundred men. However, the Wa-kibôšo were content to stand on the defensive. They were curious and anxious to see what tactics the white man would follow, with what new kind of sorcery he would war against them. The white man was proposing meanwhile to a dissentient group of followers a grand charge up the hill, which should carry the enemy’s positions, and drive them off in headlong flight. Had he been backed up by the hundred and twenty-one men around him, this plan would doubtless have ended in a signal victory; but as no one except his Indian servant acceded to it, he felt that under those circumstances a grand charge of two would lack sufficient moral effect. During these deliberations the sun was sinking below the purple mass of Mount Méru, and I resolved to fall back on a rather fantastical method I had preconceived of scattering my enemies, and striking effectual terror into their foolish hearts. I moved my men on to the crown of a small hillock which faced the hill-top whereon the ranks of Wa-kibôšo stood in savage array. Before darkness fell my men had planted several stout poles on the summit of our hillock, and had further erected a kind of rough platform of boughs, on which a few of the leather capes of Mandara’s men were spread, to make a smooth surface. Then I called for the mysterious case I had packed and brought with me from my settlement. Only my servant, Virapan, understood the nature of its contents, and as he drew forth white tubes and blue tubes, and queer little tins, not only the men of Mandara believed that I was about to practise sorcery of the first water, but even my own matter-of-fact Zanzibaris fancied that something uncanny was about to take place. As for the Wa-kibôšo I was just near enough to their hill-top to catch every now and then the murmurs of their wonderment at our actions. Quietly and expeditiously Virapan and Cephas cut a few thin rods, and handed them to me to insert into the little extinguishers attached to some of the larger tubes, which were then hung up through staples to the upright posts. I laid out open tins of dusky powder on the platform of boughs, I lighted in readiness my bull’s-eye lantern; in short, not to weary the expectant reader longer, I made all the necessary preparations for a grand display of fireworks. No sooner had darkness set in than I blazed forth upon the astonished natives with Bengal lights, red fire, Roman candles, serpent squibs, and lastly a magnificent flight of rockets. The terrified Wa-kibôšo scarcely waited to see the last of these. When the first rocket rose with a flaming shower and a shrieking rush into the air, and then broke well over their heads into a mass of blue and crimson falling meteors, our astounded foes fled in dismay, and we found ourselves alone on the field, whence we journeyed peacefully home by the light of a late rising moon.

The next day we were all utterly prostrate with fatigue, and not in the best of humours, although Mandara had sent us a fat ox wherewith to feast and make merry. The fact was, he had accompanied his gift with congratulations on my _tour de force_ of the day before, and a cool request that I would proceed to follow up the advantage gained by an invasion of the enemies’ territory, which I was to utterly harry and devastate, and then hand over to Mandara’s keeping. In fact he would have liked me to conquer all the states of Čaga for him on my own responsibility. This I peremptorily declined to do. I explained to him that I had only joined in the fight of the day before because my own men and goods had been threatened, but that I had come to Kilima-njaro not to make war on any one, but to go my own way in peace and confine myself to the slaughter of the beasts of the field if I must kill anything. I also let him know with unusual outspokenness that to an English mind his policy of continually harrying the states of his neighbours in order to supply the Arab caravans with slaves, was excessively distasteful, and one which would inevitably lose him Sir John Kirk’s friendship.

This reply rather took him by surprise, and for some days there was a coolness between us. Then he sent for me and delivered a long speech, which was certainly one of the cleverest and most casuistic I have ever heard from the mouth of an African slave-dealer as an argument in favour of selling men into slavery. The gist of it was:—“Here are people who make war on me. I defend myself, and carry the war into their country, as we did the other day. Very well, a number of prisoners are made. What would you have me do with them? Slaughter them? No; that would be displeasing to Erua (God). Return them to my enemies? Then they would only take that as a sign of weakness, and attack me once more. Distribute them among my own people on my own land? But my subjects would themselves protest, and say, ‘If strangers are to occupy the soil, where is the room for our children to cultivate?’ Then what can I do but sell them to the Arabs?” I answered this by first describing to Mandara (who probably was unaware of this other aspect) what the Arabs did with the unhappy Wa-Čaga whom they purchased; how they made them labour in the sugar-plantations on the coast; how they exported them to regions across the sea, the nameless outrages inflicted on the youths and maidens, and as I warmed to the subject his face grew sombre, and he hung his head. Then I drew another picture. “See,” I said, “how silly is war; who profits but the Arabs?[18] Yes,” I exclaimed, getting furious as I thought of it, “it is you, you vile wretches,” pointing to his Swahili parasites who sat sulkily by, “who are the curse of the country. May God punish you in this world and the next! I, at any rate, warn you, I will do my best to thwart your dealings; I will write to the Consul on the coast and give your names, and stop your slave-convoys. So you had better decamp and try fields where no white man is.” Then I turned to Mandara and said, “Take my advice for once. Cast these men from your country, and turn all your attention to legitimate trade. Make your slaves cultivate your own plantations instead of the Arabs’. Supply the caravans going and returning to and from Masai-land with food. You know how gladly they will pay for it in goods and money (rupees). Thus you will grow rich and still retain the Consul’s friendship. Above all, let there be peace on the mountain. Make friends with Ki-bôšo, Ki-rua, and Maraṅu, and then the white man as your friend may wander everywhere in peace.” When I had finished, Mandara took me by both hands and said, “Indeed you are speaking truth; I know it. Why do you not always come to me and counsel me? If I have only these Swahili people to advise me, how can I avoid doing wrong?” In this Mandara was right. I believe, as I wrote to Sir John Kirk at the time, that I might have acquired a very powerful and useful influence over Mandara’s mind had I made the endeavour. It was such an advantage being able to talk with him direct, and dispense with the nullifying influence of an interpreter. But at the same time it was not my mission to meddle with the politics of Kilima-njaro; I had been sent there to superintend the collecting of scientific information and the necessary material for investigating the fauna and flora of the snow-mountain, and not to redress the wrongs of the suffering inhabitants. Only so far as they hindered or otherwise affected my proper work could I exert any influence over local chieftains. My employers had not placed funds at my disposal to suppress slave-trading, or weld the states of Kilima-njaro into a confederation against the Swahili traffickers in human flesh. I had, as it was, quite sufficient difficulty in doing any natural history collecting at all, for I had found my two collectors very idle and inefficient, and the entire work, even in its most menial details, was soon to be thrown on my hands without any outside help; consequently I was disinclined to waste many hours of daylight in conversation with the chief of Moši, interesting as he was to talk to. I therefore neglected to follow up the decided advantage I had gained over Mandara’s conscience, and employed the few peaceful days which followed the warlike movements I have just described exclusively in skinning birds and drying plants. Unfortunately, while thus engaged the Swahili courtiers, who now hated me virulently, made every effort to regain their baneful influence over Mandara’s vacillating mind.