
 
		of  natives,  all  curious  to  view  the  Mundele  
 Though  somewhat  noisy  in  their  greetings,  we  
 were  soon  on  an  amicable  footing,  especially  
 when  a  young  fellow  named  Lazala  began  to  
 ask  me  if  I  were  “ Ingiliz,  Francees,  Dytche,  or  
 Portigase.”  Lazala  further  named  many  seaport  
 towns  he  had  visited,  and  discharged  his knowledge  
 of  the  manners  and  customs  of the  whites  
 by  the  sea  with  a  refreshing  volubility.  The  
 great  waves  along  the  sea-beach  he  described  
 in  a  characteristic manner  as  being  “Mputu,  putu-  
 putu,  just  like  the big waves  of Zinga !”  Whereupon  
 a  fast  and  sure  friendship  was  soon  established, 
   which  was  never  broken. 
 At  1  p.m.  breakfast  was  despatched  to  Frank,  
 through  Majwara,  Benni,  and  Kassim,  and  men  
 were  sent  with  a  net-hammock. 
 The  Zinga  kings  and  most  of  their  people  
 had  ascended  to  their  homes  above,  on  the  
 plateau;  and  in  my  camp  there were  about fourteen  
 able-bodied  men,  besides  the  sick  and  
 women.  And  about  three  o’clock  I  took  my  
 seat  on  a  high  rock  above  the  falls,  to  watch  
 for  Uledi,  as  from  the  Zinga  Point,  with  a  field-  
 glass,  I  was  enabled  to  view  the  river  across  
 Bolobolo basin,  both Massassa Falls  and Massesse  
 Rapids,  and  nearly  up  to  the Upper Mowa  Falls. 
 I  was  not  long  in  my position before  I  observed  
 something  long  and  dark  rolling  and  tumbling  
 about  in  the  fierce  waves  of  Massassa.  It  was 
 rjune I   1877-1  t h e   “ l i t t l e   m a s t e r ”   DROWNED.  14 5 
 [  Z in g a .  J 
 a  capsized  canoe,  and  I  detected  the  forms  of  
 several  men  clinging  to  it! 
 I instantly  despatched Kacheche, Wadi Rehani,  
 and  ten  men,  with  cane-ropes,  to  take  position  
 in  the  bight  in  Bolobolo,  near  which  I  knew,  
 by  the  direction of the  waves,  the  current would  
 carry  them  before  sweeping them  down  towards  
 Zinga.  Meanwhile  I  watched  the  wrecked  men  
 as  they  floated  through  the  basin.  I  saw  them  
 struggling  to  right  the  canoe.  I  saw  them  lift  
 themselves  on  the  keel,  and  paddling  for  dear  
 life  towards  shore,  to  avoid  the  terrible  cataract  
 of  Zinga.  Finally,  as  they  approached  the  
 land,  I  saw  them  leap  from  the  wreck  into  the  
 river,  and  swim  ashore,  and  presently  the  unfortunate  
 Jason,  which  they  had  but  a  moment  
 before  abandoned,  swept  by  me  with the  speed  
 of  an  arrow,  and  over  the  cataract,  into  the  
 great  waves,  and  the  soundless  depths  of whirlpools, 
   and  so  away  out  of  sight. 
 Bad  news  travels  fast.  Kacheche,  breathless  
 with  haste  and  livid with horror,  announced  that  
 out  of  the  eleven  men  who  had  embarked  in  
 the  canoe  at  Mowa,  eight  only  were  saved. 
 “Three  are  lost!— and— one o f them  is the  little  
 master! ” 
 “ The  little  master,  Kacheche?”  I  gasped.  
 “Surely  not  the  little  master?” 
 “Yes,  he  is  lost,  master!” 
 “But how  came he in  the canoe?” I  asked, turn- 
 THROUGH  THE  DARK  CONTINENT.  VOL.  IV.  L