Forthwith the whole village, chief included, went to cut up and carry off the meat, and there followed revelry by night, the chiefs wives brewing beer from the mtama, and all getting drunk as well as gorged.

Coutlass and Brown got more drunk than any one.
Will came back with flies on his coat--three large things like horse-flies, that crossed their wings in repose, resembling in all other respects the common tetse fly.

He said the reeds by the lake-side were full of them.
Remembering tales about sleeping sickness, and suspicion of conveying it said to rest on a tetse fly that crossed its wings, I went out the following day and walked many miles east-ward, taking with me the only two sober villagers I could find.

They came willingly enough for five miles, thinking, I suppose, that I intended to follow Will's example and kill some more meat (although, as I did not take the rifle with me, they were not guilty of much dead-weight reasoning).
At the bank of the fifth stream we came to they stopped, and refused to go another yard.

Thinking they were merely lusting after the meat and beer in the village, I took a stick to drive them across the stream in front of me, but they dodged in terror and ran back home as if the devil had been after them.
I crossed the stream and continued forward alone about another mile toward a fairly large village visible between great blue boulders with cactus dotted all about.