coolly on his camp-stool, his gun across his
knees, and graciously invited the very unpleasant-looking party to be
seated also. The Chiboque, accordingly, squatted on the ground, thus
giving Livingstone's men, who remained standing, spears in hand, the
chance of first blow, if it were impossible to avoid a fight.
Fortunately, they were all well under control, and stood watching for a
signal from their master, who quietly addressed the chief, bidding him
state what he wanted.

A man, an ox, or a gun would do equally well, the Chiboque returned, but
tribute he must have, as he always did from strangers.

The first-named was quite impossible, replied Livingstone, calmly; he
and his followers would rather die than give one of their number to be a
slave. Neither could they part with one of their guns; but he would give
a shirt as a present to the chief, who had no right to demand any
tribute at all from him. The chief was pleased to accept the shirt, but
wanted something more, and Livingstone followed it up with a bunch of
beads and a handkerchief. But seeing that each fresh treasure encouraged
the enemy's desire to plunder the party, he resolved upon a bold stroke.
It was clear, he said, that the Chiboques had no wish to be his friends.
He and his men would fight if they were obliged, but the Chiboques, not
they, should begin the attack and bear the guilt of it. Let them strike
the first blow. Having delivered his challenge, he sat perfectly silent,
waiting for the reply.

Should it come in the form of an attack, he knew that the first stroke
would be directed at the white man, and he admits that the moments of
suspense were, as he puts it, 'rather trying;' but he was 'careful not
to appear flurried,' as he sat with his life in his hand, the centre of
the wild group.

But the bold proposal succeeded. Perhaps the Chiboque measured the
strength of the resolute party, and came to the conclusion that 'good
words are better than bad strokes;' perhaps they felt the presence of a
superior power in the quiet, watchful-eyed white man. When at last the
chief spoke, it was to renew his demand for an ox. He would give in
return any present that the stranger liked to name, and they could be
friends. Livingstone, seeing approval in the eyes of his men, agreed,
asking for some food, of which he and his party were short, and which
the chief readily promised to supply. He and his warriors withdrew with
their prize; and, later in the eve