the air, it was impossible to shoot them. Soon after Mountmorres and
Sillye returned and reported they had found all the crew safe, except
one man who had probably deserted and had also brought back the cases of
beer. The white man was a French officer of Customs, who had naturally
thought the crew of the canoe were engaged in smuggling and had fired
blank cartridges to frighten them. So passed an eventful day with much
smoke but little fire. It was indeed becoming apparent that the Congo
was a true land of exaggerations. On all sides were great hills, great
plains, great forests, great rivers, great beasts, great trees, and
great lies.

Next day we continued our course up Stanley-Pool, which meant threading
our way up narrow channels between uninteresting sandbanks covered with
forest or grass. In the distance could be seen the hills forming the
boundaries of the Pool and at its upper end _Dover Cliffs_ so called
from their resemblance to that part of the English coast. About midday
we sighted the _Anversville_, the vessel which was supposed to have been
sunk, comfortably lying on a sand bank, and the _Brugesville_ which had
gone to her assistance, also resting on the same bank. One of the
passengers came off to the _Flandre_ and told us that no one was hurt
and all the baggage was safe and that he had heard we had been burnt
out, attacked by natives and all killed. Truly the Congo is a wonderful
place.

As the _Flandre_ moors we decide to go ashore hunting. Within a few
yards of the bank is the lair of a hippopotamus and the spoor of
elephants. It is however, very difficult walking, for patches of land
are covered with long grass seven or eight feet high and the rest is
bog. After struggling along for a few minutes, I hear a curious noise
like a very asthmatic fog horn not above five yards away. Nothing is