At the last moment, when the boat was about to leave the shore, two of the best men jumped in with their guns. However, the natives positively refused to start; therefore, to avoid suspicion, I ordered them to retire, but I left word that on the morrow I would send the canoe across with supplies, and that one or two men should endeavor to accompany the boat to our side on every trip.
It was quite dark when we started. The canoe was formed of a large hollow tree, capable of holding twenty people, and the natives paddled us across the rapid current just below the falls. A large fire was blazing upon the opposite shore, on a level with the river, to guide us to the landing-place. Gliding through a narrow passage in the reeds, we touched the shore and landed upon a slippery rock, close to the fire, amid a crowd of people, who immediately struck up a deafening welcome with horns and flageolets, and marched us up the steep face of the rocky cliff through a dark grove of bananas. Torches led the way, followed by a long file of spearmen; then came the noisy band and ourselves, I towing my wife up the precipitous path, while my few attendants followed behind with a number of natives who had volunteered to carry the luggage.
On arrival at the top of the cliff, we were about 180 feet above the river; and after a walk of about a quarter of a mile, we were triumphantly led into the heart of the village, and halted in a small courtyard in front of the headman’s residence.