an argument which had sprung up between Brother John and Komba
about the former's butterfly net, which Komba suspected of being a
new kind of gun or at least a magical instrument of a dangerous sort,
attracted my notice. After this dispute, another arose over a common
garden trowel that Stephen had thought fit to bring with him. Komba
asked what it was for. Stephen replied through Brother John that it was
to dig up flowers.

"Flowers!" said Komba. "One of our gods is a flower. Does the white lord
wish to dig up our god?"

Of course this was exactly what Stephen did desire to do, but not
unnaturally he kept the fact to himself. The squabble grew so hot that
finally I announced that if our little belongings were treated with so
much suspicion, it might be better that we should give up the journey
altogether.

"We have passed our word that we have no firearms," I said in the most
dignified manner that I could command, "and that should be enough for
you, O Komba."

Then Komba, after consultation with his companions, gave way. Evidently
he was anxious that we should visit Pongo-land.

So at last we started. We three white men and our servants seated
ourselves in the stern of the canoe on grass cushions that had been
provided. Komba went to the bows and his people, taking the broad
paddles, rowed and pushed the boat along the water-way made by the
hippopotami through the tall and matted reeds, from which ducks and
other fowl rose in multitudes with a sound like thunder. A quarter of an
hour or so of paddling through these weed-encumbered shallows brought
us to the deep and open lake. Here, on the edge of the reeds a tall
pole that served as a mast was shipped, and a square sail, made of
closely-woven mats, run up. It filled with the morning off-land breeze
and presently we were bowling along at a rate of quite eight miles
the hour. The shore grew dim behind us, but for a long while above the
clinging mists I could see the flag that we had planted on the mound. By
degrees it dwindled till it became a mere speck and vanished. As it grew
smaller my spirits sank, and when it was quite gone, I felt very low
indeed.

Another of your fool's errands, Allan my boy, I said to myself. I wonder
how many more you are destined to survive.

The others, too, did not seem in the best of spirits. Brother John
stared at the horizon, his lips moving as though he were engaged in
prayer, and even Stephen was temporarily depressed. Jerry h