Niger

I OHe was now on the verge of country untra-
^versed by any European except the unfor¬
tunate Major Houghton. But Woolli’s last town
proved as hospitable as its first. The inhabitants
stared at the tall young man, perspiring in blue coat
and nankeen trousers, with a mixture of c curiosity
and reverence 5 and invited him to a wrestling match
at the bentang tree. Here Mungo sat and witnessed
the prowess displayed by various combatants who
had anointed themselves with the native margarine,
shea-butter, and grappled and clung and threw one
another to the music of a drum. There succeeded a
dance in which each dancer had his legs and arms
decorated with little bells, a pleasing innovation.
Mungo sat and enjoyed it all with that singular
incapacity for surprise which was his. The flare of
lights about the bentang, the tinkle of the bells, the
posturing negroes, the heat, the smells and the hum
of the insects are as missing from his account as is
any picture of himself—alien and amazing, but
unamazed, bending a dark, composed face into the
sprayings of the torchlight to watch with a cool
detachment the gesticulations and posturings.
The guide the king of Woolli had provided, far
back in Medina, was now due to return to his home.
Mungo presented him with some amber beads, and
sought out new guides who would also be water-
63