Then we saw the dark outline of distant hills—the Fema
mountains, which the guide said lay within a day s march
of Tette. The news cheered u s ; but Manaman came to
me with a most piteous face, saying:
“ There is nothing to eat. Can you stand it from here to
T e tte ? ”
Truly the whole party looked as though they had not
had a “ square meal ” for at least a month. Hearing that
there was a small town in close proximity, I sent a man to
it with six strings of beads—positively the very last—in
order to buy a chicken,, but he returned saying that the
people wanted white calico; they would not take beads.
We camped during the following evening on the Fema
mountains, which skirt the Zambesi on the south. I told the
boys that I was determined to reach the big town by the
next night; but they all shook their heads, saying that
the distance was far, and that I would not be able to manage
it. While saying this they pointed to the sun, and indicated
that most of the journey, after crossing the mountains,
would be through sand.
“ But,” said I, “ if you work well, I promise that when we
drink the waters of the great river I will celebrate the
event by giving you some aqua ardiente, and if we reach
the town before sunset, you will each receive three fathoms
of white calico.”
This promise evidently met with approval. They had
known nothing of the bottle of brandy which I had carefully
kept for so long a time, and the prospect of a taste, as
well as getting calico, cheered the discontented wanderers
mightily, and ensured an early start which I was most
anxious to manage. Only another round of the clock s hand,
and we get the longed-for glimpse of the Zambesi river, for
which I have worked and wearied so long.
The guide, Manaman, and myself left the camp at the
first signs of breaking day. We clambered up the
southern slopes of the Fema, and ere long stood upon
the summit.
The early dawn of opening day was lightened as the
heavy clouds were being swept away by a gentle southeasterly
breeze. The sun as it ascended in orient sky
darted glorious gleams through the grey streaks, of clouds,
whose frowning folds still hung like a pall in the far
horizon.
“ Zambesi! Zambesi! Senhor! ” was jubilantly and repeatedly
vociferated by Manaman and the guide, as though
they wished me to thoroughly appreciate the grandeur of
the picturesque scene and the triumph of the moment.
I could not help thinking of John. Here was the “ big
rafeer,” but the sight was not for him. How I should have
liked to have had some one to whom I might reveal the
numerous thoughts that thronged in my mind, recalling
the toilsome days, the wanderings, the disappointments and
hopes, the reverses and successes of the days that were
gone !
Qut in the north-eastern expanse was a grand panoramic
landscape. Hills and dales, richly wooded ravines, and
gentle eminences, forests and brushwood, were gradually
revealed by the ascending orb of day, which east oblique
shadows from the rounded hills rising from the river’s edge.
The bush-covered and broken hillocks gradually sink
towards the silent-looking waters of the great arterial
stream ; fully a thousand yards in width in our line of
sight.
High in the air hundreds of storks were flying in
sweeping circles, their full, white plumage gleaming
brightly against the soft blue sky. On the sandy river