he faithful Susi
and Chuma. In the dark thickets of the tropical forests he wounded his
feet, dragged himself over fallen trunks and decaying rubbish, and waded
across swollen rivers; and among the crowns of the lofty trees and in
the dense undergrowth lurked malaria, an invisible miasma. He fell ill
again and had to rest a long time in his miserable hut, where he lay on
his bed of grass reading his tattered Bible, or listening to the
native's tales of combats with men and apes, for gorillas lived in the
forests.

Thus year after year passed by, and not the faintest whisper from the
noisy world reached his ears. The only thing that retained him was the
Lualaba. Did its waters run in an inexhaustible stream to the western
ocean, or did they flow gently through forests, swamps, and deserts to
Egypt? If he could only answer that question, he would go by the nearest
way to Zanzibar and thence home. He had heard nothing of his children
and friends for years. The soil of Africa held him prisoner in a network
of forests and lianas.

In February 1871 he left Manyuema and came to Nyangwe on the bank of the
Lualaba, one of the principal resorts of slave-dealers. The natives were
hostile, believing that he was a slave-trader; and the slave-traders who
knew him by sight hated him. He tried in vain to procure canoes for a
voyage down the great river. He offered a chief, Dugumbe, a liberal
reward if he would help him to prepare for this expedition. While
Dugumbe was considering the offer, Livingstone witnessed an episode
which surpassed in horror all that he had previously met with in Africa.
It was a fine day in July on the bank of the Lualaba, and 1500 natives,
mostly women, had flocked to market at a village on the bank.
Livingstone was out for a stroll, when he saw two small cannon pointed
at the crowd and fired. Many of the unfortunate people, doomed to death
or the fetters of slavery, rushed to their canoes, but were met by a
band of slave-hunters and surprised by a shower of arrows. Fifty canoes
lay at the bank, but they were so closely packed that they could not be
put out. The wounded shrieked and threw themselves on one another in
wild despair. A number of black heads on the surface of the water showed
that many swimmers were trying to reach an island about a mile away. The
current was against them and their case was hopeless. Shot after shot
was fired at them. Some sank quietly without a struggle, while others
uttered cr