Azizeh was a stout and sturdy personage of twenty-five, with
thick wrists and ankles, a very dark skin, and a face rendered
pleasing by good humour. And Azizeh was childless, a sad reproach
in these lands, where progeny forms a man's wealth and a woman's
honour.

The next day was perforce a halt, as had been expected; moreover,
rains and tornadoes were a reasonable pretext for nursing the
headache. The 21st was also wet and stormy, so Nimrod hid himself
and was not to be found. Then the balivernes began. One Asini, a
Mpongwe from the Plateau, offered to show me a huge gorilla near
his village; in the afternoon he was confronted with "Young
Prince," and he would have blushed scarlet if he could. But he
assured me plaintively that he must lie to live, and, after all,
la prudence des souris n'est pas celle des chats. Before dark,
Forteune appeared, and swore that he had spent the day in the
forest, he had shot at a gorilla, but the gun missed fire--of
course he had slept in a snug hut.

This last determined me to leave Mbata; the three Kru-men had
returned; one of them was stationed in charge of the boat, and
next morning we set out at 6 A.M. for Nche Mpolo, the
headquarters of "Young Prince." The well-wooded land was devoid
of fetor, even at that early hour; we passed Ndagola, a fresh
clearing and newly built huts, and then we skirted a deep and
forested depression, upon whose further side lay our bourne. It
promised sand-flies, the prime pest of this region; a tall
amphitheatre of trees on a dune to the west excluded the sea-
breeze, and northwards a swampy hollow was a fine breeding place
for M. Maringouin.