Niger

Mungo’s one fishy tale. Beyond this stream the
caravan drew in to a semi-military marching
order—guides and young men in the van, women
and slaves in the centre, free men of consequence in
the rear.
Jallonka : Mungo stared about him in surprise.
Here was no wilderness, but a well-wooded land of
glen and hill. Partridges and guinea-fowl clucked
in the undergrowth, disturbed by the feet of the
slaves. Deer trotted away in dappled herds. Pre¬
sently they came to another stream where Mungo
stripped and bathed and felt greatly refreshed. The
caravan halted, sweating, and looked on. Three
miles further on they halted at the verge of a thick
wood, and made camp for the night. They had
travelled a good thirty miles that day.
The fires kindled. Karfa sent a slave to make a
brushwood bed for Mungo. Kouskous was eaten,
the slaves put in irons. Then Mungo and his
compeers lay down to sleep with Jallonka about
them. Sleep came but slowly to Mungo, what with
the continual howling of wild beasts in his ears.
Also, ants got into his clothing and went through
unhasting evolutions and excavations all through
the hours of the night. Day-coming was a relief.
Hot gruel was served to the slatis and Mungo and
the other free men. The slaves looked on hungrily.
One of Karfa’s slaves, a woman named Nealee, was
offered some as a special favour and declined it,
sulkily. She was to regret that ere the day was spent.
Jallonka wilderness suddenly changed in character.