le so fascinated him that he tarried
year after year in Africa; but he never succeeded in solving it, and
never knew that the river running out of Bangweolo is a tributary of the
Lualaba or Upper Congo.

Most of his men mutinied on the shore of Bangweolo. They complained of
the hardships they endured and were tired of munching ears of maize, and
demanded that their master should lead them to country where they could
get sufficient food. Mild and gentle as always, Livingstone spoke to
them kindly. He admitted that they were right, and confessed that he was
himself tired of struggling on in want and hardship. They were so
astonished at his gentleness that they begged to remain with him.

Livingstone was dangerously ill on this journey and had to be carried on
a litter. There he lay unconscious and delirious with fever, and lost
entirely his count of time. The troop moved again towards Tanganyika,
and was to cross the lake in canoes to the Ujiji country on the eastern
shore. If he could only get so far, he could rest there, and receive new
supplies and letters from home.

Worn out and exhausted he at length reached Ujiji, a rendezvous for the
Arab slave-dealers. But his fresh supplies had disappeared entirely. He
wrote for more from the coast, and urged the Sultan of Zanzibar to see
that nothing went astray. He wrote heaps of letters which never reached
their destination. A packet of forty-two were sent off at one time, not
one of which arrived, for at that time the tribes to the east of the
lake were at war with one another.

Livingstone did not allow his courage to fail. No difficulties were
great enough to crush this man. With Susi and Chuma and a party of newly
enlisted porters, he set out westwards across the lake, his aim being to
visit the Manyuema country, through the outskirts of which flows the
Lualaba. If Livingstone could prove in which direction this mighty river
ran, whether to the Mediterranean or the Atlantic, he could then return
home with a good conscience. He had determined in his own mind that he
would not leave the Dark Continent until he had solved the problem, and
for this he sacrificed his life without result. The canoes sped over the
lake, and on the western shore he continued his journey on foot to the
land of the Manyuemas. He marched on westwards. When the rainy season
came on he lost several months, and when he set out again on his next
march he had only three companions, two of them being t