afternoon was celebrated by foot-races, in which
for the sake of the prizes offered, thè Arabs
joined, occasioning much amusement to the people.
The great event was the race between
the famous Tippu-Tib and Francis Pocock. The
Arab prepared himself with unusual determination
to compete for the prize, a richly chased
silver goblet and cup, one of the presents bestowed
on me before leaving England. The
course was 300 yàrds, from end to end of the
village street. Though Frank exerted himself
to the utmost, the sinews of the muscular Arab
carried him to the front at the finish by 15 yards.
Then the little boys of the Expedition competed
with the little boys of the escort, and finally
ten young women were induced to attempt to
compete for a prize, and their presence on the
racecourse convulsed the hundreds assembled to
witness the unusual scene. Some were very ungainly
and elephantine in their movements, especially
Muscati, the wife of the chief Safeni, but
others were most graceful of body and lithe of
limb, and raced with the swiftness of Atalanta.
But the girl Khamisi of Zanzibar was declared
the winner.
A dance, by a hundred Wanyamwezi, adorned
in all the feathered glory and terror of war,
with sounding drums and melodious blasts from
ivory horns, terminated the extraordinary festivities.
On the 26th Tippu-Tib gave a banquet of
rice and roasted sheep to the Expedition, and
malofu, or palm-wine, from Mpika Island, assisted
to maintain the high spirits and sanguine prospects
of success with which these cheery
proceedings, festivities, and sports inspired us.
The next day at dawn we embarked all the
men, women, and children, 149 souls in all, and
the riding-asses of the Expedition, and, telling
Tippu-Tib we should on the morrow pull up
stream and descend the river close to the village
of Vinya-Njara for a last farewell, we pulled
across to the islet near the right bank, where
we constructed a rude camp for the only night
we should remain. When I ascertained, after
arrival, that every soul connected with the Expedition
was present, my heart was filled with
a sense of confidence and trust such as I had
not enjoyed since leaving Zanzibar.
In the evening, while sleep had fallen upon
all save the watchful sentries in charge of the
boat and canoes, Frank and I spent a serious
time.
Frank was at heart as sanguine as I that we
should finally emerge somewhere, but, on account
of the persistent- course of the great river towards
the north, a little uneasiness was evident
in his remarks.
“Before we finally depart, sir,” said he, “ do
you really believe, in your inmost soul, that we