On August 10th, we leave Coquilhatville and steam down the river to
Irebu, which we reach after a few hours hot journey. Mr. Jeniaux, the
Commandant, has spared no pains to make the camp not only beautiful but
attractive in every way and it has well earned its reputation as one of
the show places of the Congo. Lord Mountmorres is lodged in a spare
house used for guests and Lieutenant Hoyer kindly lends me his during
our stay. The Mess is very comfortably arranged, and the dinner based on
antelope and wild pig is excellent.

Next day I go hunting with Mr. Hoyer in a canoe propelled by twenty
paddlers. These at first keep up a kind of chant to the time of the
paddles which is quite musical and pleasant. As we approach the game
grounds however, they become quite silent. After travelling up stream
for about a mile, we land in a kind of bog which is full of a species of
duck, somewhat resembling a wood-cock. A sergeant of the Force Publique
acts as guide and hunter, and it soon becomes apparent that the native
is in the habit of stalking even birds and shooting them sitting. This
is natural enough for formerly they were armed with bows and arrows, and
now the army of course use only rifles. Shot guns, therefore, are only
known to the boys of the white men, some of whom are very good shots.
The hunter seems quite annoyed because I only shoot at birds on the
wing, but is delighted when one falls. So far indeed, the only
enthusiasm a native has shown, has been while hunting after a successful
shot. The paddlers at once re-enact the scene, put imaginary guns to
their shoulders give a loud bang and then describe circles with their
hands to give a dumb show of the bird falling, laughing and shouting
all the time. They are really just like young children and are easily
pleased by trifles. After walking some distance the sergeant becomes
wildly excited and clutches me violently by the arm but makes no noise.