one told his
bearers to take him to a tree at a little distance off, that he might
rest in the shade till most of the men were on the other side. A good
deal of care was required, for the river, by no means a large one in
ordinary times, spread its waters in all directions, so that a false
step, or a stumble in any unseen hole, would have drenched the invalid
and the bed also on which he was carried.

The passage occupied some time, and then came the difficult task of
conveying the Doctor across, for the canoes were not wide enough to
allow the kitanda to be deposited in the bottom of either of them.
Hitherto, no matter how weak, Livingstone had always been able to sit in
the various canoes they had used on like occasions, but now he had no
power to do so. Taking his bed off the kitanda, they laid it in the
bottom of the strongest canoe, and tried to lift him; but he could not
bear the pain of a hand being passed under his back. Beckoning to
Chumah, in a faint voice he asked him to stoop down over him as low as
possible, so that he might clasp his hands together behind his head,
directing him at the same how to avoid putting any pressure on the
lumbar region of the back; in this way he was deposited in the bottom of
the canoe, and quickly ferried across the Mulilamo by Chowpere, Susi,
Farijala, and Chumah. The same precautions were used on the other side:
the kitanda was brought close to the canoe, so as to prevent any
unnecessary pain in disembarking.

Susi now hurried on ahead to reach Chitambo's village, and superintend
the building of another house. For the first mile or two they had to
carry the Doctor through swamps and plashes, glad to reach something
like a dry plain at last.

It would seem that his strength was here at its very lowest ebb. Chumah,
one of his bearers on these the last weary miles the great traveller was
destined to accomplish, says that they were every now and then implored
to stop and place their burden on the ground. So great were the pangs of
his disease during this day that he could make no attempt to stand, and
if lifted for a few yards a drowsiness came over him, which alarmed them
all excessively. This was specially the case at one spot where a tree
stood in the path. Here one of his attendants was called to him, and, on
stooping down, he found him unable to speak from faintness. They
replaced him in the kitanda, and made the best of their way on the
journey. Some distance further on g