d understand a large
portion of a conversation and could even give directions to our carriers
in their own tongue.

Omar was in high spirits, eager, it seemed, to return to his own people.
He took a gun and some ammunition from one of the cases that Kouaga had
conveyed from England and gave us an exhibition of his skill with the
rifle. He was a dead shot. I had no idea he could aim so true. As we sped
past in our canoe he would raise his weapon from time to time and pick
off a bird upon the wing, or fire directly into the eye of some basking
animal, causing it to utter a roar, lash its tail and disappear to die.
He seldom missed, and the accuracy of his aim elicited from the sable
rowers low grunts of admiration.

A lazy and enjoyable week we thus spent in the ascent of the Comoe,
mostly through forest scenery or undulating grass-lands. By day our
rowers bent with rhythmic music to their paddles, and at evening we would
disembark, cook our food, and afterwards with Kouaga and my friend I
would sleep in our canoe upon the heap of leopard skins that formed our
couches. Here we were free from the pest of the myriad insects we had
encountered in the forest; and at night, under the brilliant moon, the
noble river and giant trees presented a fine picture of solitary
grandeur. Onward we pressed through the flourishing country of the
Jimini, where we saw many prosperous villages of large roomy houses of
rectangular form and reed thatched, wide tracts under cultivation with
well-kept crops of cotton and rice. Everywhere we passed, without
opposition, and with expressions of good-will from the natives.

One evening when the blood-red sun had sunk low in the water behind us,
we suddenly rounded a sharp bend of the river and there burst upon us,
rising on our right high into the clouds, the great snow-capped crest of
Mount Komono. Near its base it was hidden by a bank of cloud, but above
all was clear and bright, so that the summit had the appearance of being
suspended in mid-air.

"The Giant's Finger at last!" cried Omar, jumping up excitedly and
pointing at the mountain. "We leave the river a little higher up, and
push again across the bush a twelve days' journey until we come to the
Volta, which will take us forward to the boundary of Mo."

"The Volta!" I cried, remembering the incident at school when he had
answered correctly the master's question as to the estuary of that river,
and had been dubbed "the Guinea Pig." "Why