say to one who was half awake, "Don't you hear
what these people are saying? Go and listen." He then walked off in the
opposite direction, and never returned. We had no guard set, but every
one lay with his spear in his hand. The man to whom he spoke appears to
have been in a dreamy condition, for it did not strike him that he ought
to give the alarm. Next morning I found to my sorrow that Monahin was
gone, and not a trace of him could be discovered. He had an attack of
pleuritis some weeks before, and had recovered, but latterly complained
a little of his head. I observed him in good spirits on the way hither,
and in crossing some of the streams, as I was careful not to wet my
feet, he aided me, and several times joked at my becoming so light.
In the evening he sat beside my tent until it was dark, and did not
manifest any great alarm. It was probably either a sudden fit of
insanity, or, having gone a little way out from the camp, he may have
been carried off by a lion, as this part of the country is full of them.
I incline to the former opinion, because sudden insanity occurs when
there is any unusual strain upon their minds. Monahin was in command
of the Batoka of Mokwine in my party, and he was looked upon with great
dislike by all that chief's subjects. The only difficulties I had with
them arose in consequence of being obliged to give orders through him.
They said Mokwine is reported to have been killed by the Makololo, but
Monahin is the individual who put forth his hand and slew him. When
one of these people kills in battle, he seems to have no compunction
afterward; but when he makes a foray on his own responsibility, and
kills a man of note, the common people make remarks to each other,
which are reported to him, and bring the affair perpetually to his
remembrance. This iteration on the conscience causes insanity, and when
one runs away in a wide country like this, the fugitive is never heard
of. Monahin had lately become afraid of his own party from overhearing
their remarks, and said more than once to me, "They want to kill me." I
believe if he ran to any village they would take care of him. I felt
his loss greatly, and spent three days in searching for him. He was a
sensible and most obliging man. I sent in the morning to inform Monina
of this sad event, and he at once sent to all the gardens around,
desiring the people to look for him, and, should he come near, to bring
him home. He evidently sympathized wi