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48
Wednesday morning. Sept 13 found us rested
and also brought us a fine breeze which called for light
wraps. By ten o'clock we had walked a mile to a
point on the Zambesi [Zambezi] bank where the hotel boat man
and nine or ten black men awaited us. Two canoes
and a launch were boarded, the latter with ten
passengers, the boatman, a black pilot and an Indian
waiter. The river is filled with small islands
which were often so placed that the River appeared
like a lake. It was difficult to think ourselves
on a mile wide river. All eyes were searching
diligently for Hippos which abound in the River
but keep themselves hidden. The Natives row
up and down the waters in boats dug out of
logs and are wonderfully expert. The Hippos
some times come up unexpected and tip these
frail barks over, and they might prove [illegible]
to any small craft. We were approaching
our Island when one Hippo stuck his head
out of water and was distinctly seen by
Miss Cameron and three others. On the way
back two others were seen, but I was so unfor-
tunate as to be looking in another direction
About eight miles up the River, our launch was
pushed under the overhanging trees and vines of