ut all
kinds of fellow-foes as well, we find the nkengos have attained a
civilisation that almost equals that of our savage brothers. And these
pale-faced little beings, with their wrinkled, care-worn, parchment-like
skins, remind one of ill-treated, white, human-dwarfs. Their name,
nkengo, means wild animal-men, and when tamed they actually make
excellent family servants for men.

These closest allies of man live in tall bamboo trees, and are so
curiously human that when seen walking around hunting berries, nuts, and
fruits, talking in guttural, chattering tones, like old fisher-women, no
one could doubt even their kinship to man.

Their children assemble in groups to romp and play under the
guardianship of either one of their mothers or grandmothers; while the
men forage for food, and watch for enemies. It is not uncommon to see
an aged, half-decrepit nkengo lying on a bed of sticks in a tall tree.
Here he eats only green leaves and bits of fruit brought him by some
kind friend, being far too weak to hunt for food himself, and
furthermore, fearing an attack from his mortal enemy, the leopard.

If the colony decides to move to other territory, either because of
enemies or the scarcity of food, they all assemble and hold a farewell
gathering in which there is much mourning and apparent grief at forever
leaving their aged kin to the fate of the wilds. If they are possibly
able to walk, they are given patient assistance in travelling along.
Sometimes, when they are deserted, sympathetic friends return for days
with berries and koola nuts, until at last the colony has gone so far
away that none dare return alone, in which event these helpless
superannuated members are left to die in their lone tree-top beds.

Many of these beds are as well made as the tree-beds of human beings,
and even better than the beds of the savage Dyaks of Borneo. They are
usually located in tall trees, inaccessible to leopards and out of reach
of their most dreaded of all enemies, the terrible hordes of war-ants.
From these nothing escapes--not even elephants and tigers.

The arrival of a baby to these nkengos is of far more importance in
their tree-top village, than in a human city. Each of the female
relatives, and also the aged males, takes special interest in the
new-comer, and they chatter around his little grape-vine cradle with
much enthusiasm, shaking their heads and delicately handling his tiny
hands and toes as though he were the bab