About eight o'clock the tsetse commence to buzz about us, and bite our hands and necks sharply.Just as we are thinking of breakfast, we meet some buffaloes grazing by the path; but they make off in a heavy gallop at the sight of man.We fire, and the foremost, badly wounded, separates from the herd, and is seen to stop amongst the trees; but, as it is a matter of great danger to follow a wounded buffalo, we hold on our way.It is this losing of wounded animals which makes firearms so annihilating to these beasts of the field, and will in time sweep them all away.The small Enfield bullet is worse than the old round one for this.It often goes through an animal without killing him, and he afterwards perishes, when he is of no value to man.After breakfast we draw near a pond of water; a couple of elephants stand on its bank, and, at a respectful distance behind these monarchs of the wilderness, is seen a herd of zebras, and another of waterbucks.On getting our wind the royal beasts make off at once; but the zebras remain till the foremost man is within eighty yards of them, when old and young canter gracefully away.The zebra has a great deal of curiosity; and this is often fatal to him, for he has the habit of stopping to look at the hunter.In this particular he is the exact opposite of the diver antelope, which rushes off like the wind, and never for a moment stops to look behind, after having once seen or smelt danger.The finest zebra of the herd is sometimes shot, our men having taken a sudden fancy to the flesh, which all declare to be the "king of good meat."On the plains of short grass between us and the river many antelopes of different species are calmly grazing, or reposing.Wild pigs are common, and walk abroad during the day; but are so shy as seldom to allow a close approach.On taking alarm they erect their slender tails in the air, and trot off swiftly in a straight line, keeping their bodies as steady as a locomotive on a railroad.A mile beyond the pool three cow buffaloes with their calves come from the woods, and move out into the plain.A troop of monkeys, on the edge of the forest, scamper back to its depths on hearing the loud song of Singeleka, and old surly fellows, catching sight of the human party, insult it with a loud and angry bark.Early in the afternoon we may see buffaloes again, or other animals.We camp on the dry higher ground, after, as has happened, driving off a solitary elephant.The nights are warmer now, and possess nearly as much of interest and novelty as the days.A new world awakes and comes forth, more numerous, if we may judge by the noise it makes, than that which is abroad by sunlight.Lions and hyenas roar around us, and sometimes come disagreeably near, though they have never ventured into our midst.Strange birds sing their agreeable songs, while others scream and call harshly as if in fear or anger.Marvellous insect-sounds fall upon the ear; one, said by natives to proceed from a large beetle, resembles a succession of measured musical blows upon an anvil, while many others are perfectly indescribable.A little lemur was once seen to leap about from branch to branch with the agility of a frog; it chirruped like a bird, and is not larger than a robin red-breast.Reptiles, though numerous, seldom troubled us; only two men suffered from stings, and that very slightly, during the entire journey, the one supposed that he was bitten by a snake, and the other was stung by a scorpion.
Grass-burning has begun, and is producing the blue hazy atmosphere of the American Indian summer, which in Western Africa is called the "smokes."Miles of fire burn on the mountain-sides in the evenings, but go out during the night.From their height they resemble a broad zigzag line of fire in the heavens.
We slept on the night of the 6th of July on the left bank of the Chongwe, which comes through a gap in the hills on our right, and is twenty yards wide.A small tribe of the Bazizulu, from the south, under Dadanga, have recently settled here and built a village.Some of their houses are square, and they seem to be on friendly terms with the Bakoa, who own the country.They, like the other natives, cultivate cotton, but of a different species from any we have yet seen in Africa, the staple being very long, and the boll larger than what is usually met with; the seeds cohere as in the Pernambuco kind.
They brought the seed with them from their own country, the distant mountains of which in the south, still inhabited by their fellow-countrymen, who possess much cattle and use shields, can be seen from this high ground.These people profess to be children of the great paramount chief, Kwanyakarombe, who is said to be lord of all the Bazizulu.The name of this tribe is known to geographers, who derive their information from the Portuguese, as the Morusurus, and the hills mentioned above are said to have been the country of Changamira, the warrior-chief of history, whom no Portuguese ever dared to approach.The Bazizulu seem, by report, to be brave mountaineers; nearer the river, the Sidima inhabit the plains; just as on the north side, the Babimpe live on the heights, about two days off, and the Makoa on or near the river.The chief of the Bazizulu we were now with was hospitable and friendly.A herd of buffaloes came trampling through the gardens and roused up our men; a feat that roaring lions seldom achieved.
