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The young nshiego was at once secured in Chickango's hut, for he undertook to take charge of the creature and tame it. David, hearing that the mother was shot, was eager to go and examine her. We accordingly all set off with some poles on which to convey the body. We found on measuring it that it was about four feet high.

Stanley and Senhor Silva had been very successful in their hunt, and had brought back a good supply of birds and young deer, besides three or four smaller animals. By Chickango's advice, we built our huts in the fashion of his people that is to say, facing each other, so as to form a street, with their backs to the outside of our little fortress.

We drew him out, however, and to our satisfaction found that he was still breathing. Chickango said that he belonged to the Bakeles, and was probably a chief hunter among them. As, however, we were much nearer our own abode than their village, Stanley and I agreed to carry him with us, somewhat, I fancied, to Chickango's astonishment. "Oh! he black fellow, he die; what use carry?" he remarked.

"What do you think about it all?" said Stanley to Timbo, who had been interpreting Chickango's account. "Dog dat bark not always bite, massa," answered the black. "Me t'ink dat dey see our rifles and run away." "I am of Timbo's opinion," I could not help observing.