o a fine white meal. It is then prepared for food
as ordinary porridge is made, by having boiling water poured upon it by
one person, while another stirs it round till it is thoroughly mixed.
Our black companions were very fond of it; but while we could obtain
more substantial food, few of our party would condescend to eat it,
except now and then as a change. The poison is of so volatile a nature
that it is quickly got rid of by heat. Timbo made the meal into thin
cakes, which, when baked on an iron plate, were pronounced very good.
David told us that it was called cassava, as well as manioc, and that
its scientific name was _Jatropha manihot_. After a few trials he
contrived to manufacture a kind of starch, which I had often seen in
England under the name of tapioca. He was delighted when he succeeded
in producing it, and Kate at once made some very nice puddings from it,
by mixing it with honey to give it flavour.

We obtained also from the village some yam roots, which had greatly the
taste of potatoes, though of a closer texture. They also were placed in
the sun to dry before being cooked, and we found by putting them in dry
sand that they would keep well for a considerable time. The yam is the
root of a climbing plant which David called the _Dioscoreo-sativa_. It
had tender stems, eighteen to twenty feet in length, and sharp-pointed
leaves on long foot stalks. From the base of the roots are spikes of
small flowers. The roots are black and palmated, and about a foot in
breadth. Within they are white, but externally of a very dark brown
colour. Besides this another sort was brought to us a little time
afterwards, called the _Dioscoreo-alata_, very much larger than the
former. Some, indeed, were fully three feet long, and weighed nearly
thirty pounds.

"How it would delight an Irishman's heart to see a potato as big as this
root!" exclaimed Leo. "It would be a hard matter, however, to find a
pot big enough to boil it in, or to steam it afterwards, to make it
mealy."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

INCIDENTS DURING OUR RESIDENCE ON THE MOUNTAIN.

The boys were continually asking Timbo and Igubo when they were going to
catch them another pet. They were with me one day when the two men
arrived loaded with the flesh of an animal which Stanley had shot.
"What is that?" I asked.

"He bery good eat," was the answer; "like a little horse."

"But what is it called in England?" I inquired. "Him zebra," he
answe