nkey but signify that I will not shoot those
beasts. He then asks permission to fire his rifle and brings it down
with a shot through the head. After this we paddle on to the hippo
ground. After the very first shot at a head fifty yards away, the canoe
suddenly gives a great lurch and as nearly as possible capsizes. Another
great beast had evidently chosen that moment to come up just under it
and if we had not been a heavy load, would undoubtedly have thrown it
high in the air. As it was, beyond a shaking, no one was damaged and we
had excellent sport for a few minutes until the animals made for the
bank and hid themselves in the long grass.

Behind Irebu is a plain, where the grass is really green, the green that
is only seen in the tropics. Here and there are clumps of palms and
patches of forest, the whole giving the appearance of a well kept park.
There are antelope and wild pig here but they are very difficult to
stalk owing to the open character of the ground. There are also a few
red-legged partridges and many pigeons so that one always found
something to shoot.

The native camp here consists of a large square shut off by a wooden
fence. Inside are large huts in which the soldiers live, and oddly
enough, they all prefer to have separate establishments, each woman
preparing the food for her husband. These women also work in the
plantation when they are not concerned with the business of maternity,
which judging by the number of children about, must be very seldom. The
native cemetery is a curious-looking place, for on each grave is placed
the clothes of the dead one and any other belongings he has. No one
knows the origin or object of this custom. They are not for the journey
to the happy hunting ground apparently, for missionaries say they have
never heard the natives speak of any kind of a future state. It may be
that these articles are merely to show the wealth of the departed; they
are however, all broken or torn to shreds, so that no robber should be
tempted to take them. Many of the tribes are said to eat their dead,
except those of high position and those who die of infectious diseases,
and others used to throw the corpses in the river. Some tribes however,
have a very elaborate funeral with much wailing and lamenting and the
departed is interred beneath his own hut, which is never occupied again.

At Irebu, the narrow river from Lake Tumba joins the Congo, and from its
small size is known usually as the