to a loin cloth, thinks all other possessions are useless vanities and not worth troubling about.  The view here is very beautiful, the river taking a double bend between hills which are well wooded and traversed by mountain torrents of clear water hastening to join the main stream roaring in its rocky bed below.  Numerous pintades are usually found here, the finest game bird for eating in the whole of Africa, and I go ahead of the bearers to search for them, but see nothing of interest.

[Illustration:  THE STATE POST AT DJABIR.]

By 8 a.m. the canoes have all passed the rapids, and are charged again, so once more we make a start.  Soon another rapid is reached which it is impossible to negotiate with the paddles.  Some of the crew therefore, go overboard and standing on the rocks up to their waists in water, literally lift the boat up foot by foot until the top is reached.  After this the river widens again and the current is not so strong.  One of the canoes is now reserved as a kitchen and carries the goats, chickens and other food.  It is interesting to watch Luembo sitting smoking his pipe over the fire as he cooks the lunch.  Nothing disturbs his calm serenity and he goes on philosophically making soup even in the roughest water.  When lunch is ready we stop by the bank, the kitchen comes alongside and the hot, strong soup is very acceptable, for it is impossible to eat much in the heat of the day.

At night time we decide to stop at the mouth of the Koto river, where is a post of the Trading Company of that name, and the two agents there kindly extend hospitality to us.  Some of the natives here show well marked Semitic features and a few, oddly enough, have eyes shaped like the Chinese.  They are all ready to bring rations for the paddlers and accept payment without comment.  Indeed, the native never says “thank you,” but as he speedily lets you know when he is dissatisfied, silence obviously means contentment.  The Company has a rubber plantation and a well kept farm with cows, pigs and sheep which live healthily here.

The Koto river is almost as large as the continuation of the Ubangi and rises far away up north.  Passing it we continue ascending between banks, on which villages are practically continuous the whole way until we reach Gumba, a large village on the French side with a hospitable Chief and a mud guest house.  In this we store the baggage and arrange to sleep on the verandah which has fortunately a water-tight, roof for the almost daily tornado happened to be of an unusually violent description.  The lightning is practically continuous and of a vivid, blinding green colour; the thunder sounds as if whole streets have been struck and knocked down, while the rain descends like the stream of a shower bath.

The Chief’s house in this village is oblong, but at the two ends of the roof, spire-like tops are affixed, similar to those on the rest of the huts in the village.  They are not ornamental nor useful, but interesting as marking a native characteristic on a house copied from those in the Government Posts.