"Yes, Bomero saw dibble dibble one, two, three, two two, two three, great many."
"Where?"
"Far away west."
"Where black fellows meet every three years?"
"More far."
"Bomero saw white men, not dibble dibble."
"No fear, Bomero saw dibble dibble and run away. Bomero run away from no man, black man, pigtail man, white man; but Bomero run from dibble dibble."
"Did any black fellow but Bomero see dibble dibble?"
"Yes, two three black fellow, more, all run away."
"And what like was dibble dibble?"
"White man all same dibble dibble."
That was all I could ever get out of him on the subject.
I spoke to Mr. Fetherston about our purpose of going westward with Gioro. He shook his head very gravely. "Well, Easterley," said he, "if you will be guided by me you will do nothing of the sort. You see we know next to nothing of those north-west blacks, and if you go it is even betting that you never come back. If you get, say, a hundred miles west of here you will be entirely dependent on the blacks. You
