The climate was still all that could be desired. The heat in the daytime was terrific, but the air was so dry that it was quite bearable. No dew fell at night, and sleeping in the open was, in consequence, an unmixed pleasure. Our camp was about 1200 feet above sea-level, and the temperature during the day could not have been much less than 120° Fahr., which dropped at night to from 85° to 90° Fahr.

I made several short trips into the surrounding country in search of fresh meat, but except a solitary grantei or wallerei at intervals, the country was devoid of game. The flocks and herds of the Rendili roamed so far afield in search of pasture that all the game within a day’s march had been driven away. The guinea-fowl were very wild, and I found my 20-bore was unable to deal with them, as it would not kill far enough. Also we considered it unwise to do any shooting in the near vicinity of the Rendili or Burkeneji villages, as the women and children, being unaccustomed to firearms, were very much frightened by the explosions, and it might possibly have proved a cause of friction, which we of course wished to avoid.

About ten miles away to the north-east was the “Marisi-al-lugwazambo,” or Zambo Plateau. It was of a most imposing-looking formation, its sides being as steep and clean cut as if they had been shaped with a knife. The sandy plain extended right up to the base of the plateau, which rose fully 500 feet above the level of the surrounding country. The plateau was composed chiefly of gneiss rock, with large blocks of lava liberally sprinkled on its surface and sides. It is about twenty-five miles long, with an average breadth of five miles.

A few days after our arrival Lubo came into camp with a present of fifteen sheep. In return we gave him some coils of brass and iron wire and about thirty yards of marduf, with which he professed himself very pleased.

In and around our camp there were large numbers of centipedes and scorpions, and it was quite exciting sometimes when a centipede was discovered snugly ensconced in the blankets, just as one was going to turn in. El Hakim, while turning over some pieces of cloth, when making up Lubo’s present, was stung in the hand by a large scorpion. It was pure white in colour, and consequently lay unnoticed among the folds of the cloth. His arm soon became very painful, the armpit and chest being immediately affected. Before the pain became too severe, however, I injected a solution of morphia with a hypodermic syringe, which relieved him greatly. The following morning the pain had almost entirely subsided, and in a couple of days no further ill effects were noticeable.

In the course of conversation with some of the Rendili elders, we were surprised to hear that Lorian was only two days’ march distant. We were very much surprised, as Mr. Chanler made it at least forty-five miles’ march over extremely difficult country, beyond the furthest eastern spur of the Zambo Plateau, which itself lay some fifteen to twenty miles distant from our camp. We expressed our incredulity, but we were assured that the Rendili could reach it in two days. We concluded, therefore, that, making every allowance for characteristic Rendili exaggeration, Lorian was much nearer than we had thought, and we had half decided to make an attempt to reach it, when a statement by the assembled Rendili to the effect that there were “plenty of elephants down there,” clinched the matter. We asked for guides, and as Lubo promised that they should be forthcoming, we made our preparations for a journey to the mysterious Lorian.

The next day, as no guides had put in an appearance, El Hakim and George went over to Lubo’s village, to find out the reason for the delay. Lubo, excusing himself, said that he was looking for guides, but so far he had not got hold of any one who knew the way. Two more days passed, but still no guides were forthcoming. Lubo was full of excuses and promises, but as far as he was concerned the matter was allowed to drop. Eventually we determined to make the journey without guides. We could always follow the river, which of course would be a more tedious journey, but there seemed no other way out of the difficulty.

On August 30th, therefore, we made a start, taking with us only a dozen men, and leaving Jumbi and the bulk of the men in charge of our camp, with instructions to continue buying sheep. The tents were left behind with most of our other impedimenta, as we intended travelling as lightly as possible. We took with us merely a blanket or two, the necessary culinary utensils, my camera, some spare ammunition, and a change of clothing apiece.

On leaving camp we skirted the north bank of the Waso Nyiro for some miles, deviously threading our way among the palm trees. It was a glorious excursion, this tramp through the cool dark glades beneath the palms, where the remnants of the bright sunshine which filtered through the leafy canopy overhead gave the scene the appearance of the interior of a vast cathedral dimly illuminated by rays of sunshine through stained glass windows. The effect was heightened by the occasional glimpses between the palm trunks of the smooth shining surface of the river, over which numbers of brilliantly coloured kingfishers darted to and fro like the falling fragments of a shattered rainbow.

Presently we emerged on the river-bank at a likely looking spot for a crossing. As we did so, a sliding, slipping sound, followed by a dull splash, warned us of the presence of crocodiles, and an examination of the bank showed us that three or four of the loathsome reptiles had been basking in the sun at that very spot. The tracks were, however, those of comparatively small ones, probably not more than six or eight feet long. Across the river several others of about the same size, as yet unaware of our presence, were basking on the sandbanks. The noise made by the porters soon roused them, and they also disappeared, with a wriggle and a flop, beneath the swirling stream. The river not being very deep, scarcely four feet at the deepest part, we entered the water and waded across, the men shouting and splashing with great vigour, while casting many a sidelong glance at the turbid current. Once across, our search for Lorian had commenced in good earnest, and setting our faces to the eastward, we strode forward on a course parallel to the south bank of the river.

An hour later we saw a herd of zebra, and George and I, after a long and careful stalk, secured four. They were in prime condition, and very plump, yet, strange to say, the country appeared to produce nothing more nourishing than occasional clumps of coarse grass, or rather straw, as it was burnt yellow by the fierce rays of the sun. These four zebras were a veritable windfall, as they not only enabled the men who accompanied us to lay in a few days’ supply for our journey down the river, but by sending a messenger back to Jumbi he was enabled to send for the remainder, which was sufficient to feed the men remaining in camp for some days.

We camped on the river-bank, which we had some difficulty in regaining, having to cut our way with knives and axes through the densely interlaced bush and creepers which fringed the water’s edge. The weather was delightful, though the heat in the open was terrific, this camp being situated within one degree of the equator, and not more than one thousand two hundred feet above sea-level.

On starting the following morning we found that the river curved away to the northward, rounding the easterly spur of the Zambo Plateau. As we proceeded, the luxuriant tropical vegetation gave way to scattered acacias and patches of burnt-up elephant grass. The soil underfoot also changed in character, the rocky outcrops and boulders of quartz and gneiss almost entirely disappearing. In their place were vast stretches of smooth shining sand, alternated with patches of loose brown earth, as soft and crumbly as starch, which made travelling a matter of great toil and difficulty. Game was very plentiful. I shot a grantei during the morning, and when we halted for lunch I secured three water-buck.

After we had eaten and rested awhile we resumed the march. The aspect of the country grew worse and worse. The brown crumbling soil gave way under our feet; it seemed so rotten that it was unable to bear our weight, and at every step we sank into it over our knees, our passage raising a brown impalpable dust which choked our eyes, ears, and nostrils in a most uncomfortable and disconcerting manner. The mules suffered even more than ourselves. It was impossible to ride them, as at every stride they sank up to their hocks in the rotten earth, and floundered about in a most pitiful and distressing manner. The sand, which seemed so smooth and firm on the surface, was also honeycombed underneath by some agency or other. I had a nasty fall from this cause during the afternoon’s march. I was riding the big mule, when the sand suddenly collapsed under her forefeet and she went down on her chest, afterwards rolling over on my leg, pinning me to the ground. In her struggles she kicked me in the side several times, inflicting severe bruises. Ramathani secured her head, and I was pulled from under her, feeling badly shaken and very faint. The mule then broke away and raced across country, kicking her heels in the air in delighted freedom. She was not caught for over an hour, during which I had to stumble along in the burning sun as best I could, with my head spinning like a top, and my temper considerably above the boiling-point. We concluded a weary march by sundown, and again camped under the palms on the river-bank.

These palms formed a home for large troops of baboons and little monkeys, who chattered unceasingly. After our meagre meal of fried meat we retired. The moon was in the first quarter and shed a little light after the sun had set, and we laid back in our blankets and, gazing up at the palms, spent an hour or so in desultory conversation, or perhaps discussing our route for the morrow. As the sun set the night-birds appeared, and tuned up, preparatory to their usual concert, lasting from sunset to sunrise. One bird in particular went regularly up and down the scale, starting from D, and mounting by leaps and bounds over a couple of octaves, descended again. This performance was repeated with maddening insistency during the greater part of the night.

At sunrise on the morning of September 1st we were again on the road. We saw several herds of water-buck on the banks of the Waso Nyiro, but they were very shy and most difficult to approach. The river ran in a direction almost due north. The further we followed it to the north and east the scarcer became the vegetation. Rhinoceros became once more unpleasantly numerous, and during that morning’s march we dodged several who at one time bade fair to disperse our little company. I suppose that they have their uses, though they are inconvenient at times. I know of nothing better for livening up the monotony of an otherwise uninteresting march, than a crusty old rhino who has just been roused from a refreshing nap. A lion does not create half so much excitement. El Hakim and George had to bestir themselves on one occasion during the morning, in order to prevent accident. It was in this wise. I was marching ahead, and contemplating as I went the manifold beauties of nature. A few yards behind me rode in silence El Hakim and George, also contemplating the beauties of nature—or were they thinking of the approach of lunch time? Anyhow, we were some few hundred yards ahead of the men when an agonized yell from Ramathani, who was in the rear, caused us to look round. There, not forty yards away, were two rhinoceros, a mother and a half-grown young one, coming straight for us with speedy but noiseless footsteps. I instantly took up a strategic position on the opposite side of an adjacent bush, and became an interested spectator, taking the precaution, however, to slip a cartridge into my rifle in case it should be needed. El Hakim and George dismounted with such rapidity that they almost seemed to fall off. Letting go the mules, who dashed away at full speed, they also selected a bush from which to view the procession, both of them being unarmed. The rhinos were by that time hardly half a dozen yards behind them, and scarcely had they slipped behind their respective bushes when the brutes charged right between us and went on. Not twenty seconds could have elapsed from the time Ramathani’s warning shout reached us to the time the rhinos passed, but to us it seemed nearer twenty minutes. I give this instance—one of many—to show how pleasantly one is kept on the qui vive in the districts where the rhinoceros abounds, be the landscape ever so monotonous, or the march ever so weary.

After a march lasting from sunrise till ten o’clock in the forenoon we halted for breakfast, or lunch, as we variously called our first meal, according to the time of day at which we made our halt. The continuous meat diet was getting very monotonous and unpalatable, chiefly owing to the absence of sufficient fat for cooking purposes. Our tobacco, of which, owing to some inadvertence on our departure from the Rendili camp, we had brought only a very small supply, gave out on this day, and we were thus deprived of another solace in the midst of the trials and difficulties of the journey.

After we had breakfasted we made our simple preparations for resuming the march, but to our dismay we found that the mules had disappeared. The man in charge of them while they were grazing had carelessly let them wander, and they were not to be found. We eventually discovered their tracks leading back over the path we had traversed in the morning, and we immediately sent some of the men in chase. They returned in an hour with the refractory animals, and we set off once more on our journey down the river. We saw immense herds of game on the road, including giraffe, buffalo, rhinoceros, grantei, and water-buck, and now and again we passed old elephant and lion tracks.

To the south and east the shining desert extended away to the horizon, with only a few thorny acacias to relieve the general appearance of sameness. Troops of baboons squatted on the sand or skipped about like children at play, their hoarse barks being interpreted by our little puppy as a challenge, which, however, he wisely declined to accept. At sundown we camped under a clump of palms, and turned in early, thoroughly tired out. For myself, during the whole of our journey to Lorian and back, I slept in paragraphs, so to speak, waking at intervals all through the night, a result contributed to in no small degree by the up-and-down-the-scale-two-octaves bird I have already mentioned.

The following day we were on our way again at sunrise. An hour afterwards we entered the most desolate region it had so far been our ill luck to traverse. Trees and palms disappeared, and their place was taken by coarse dry elephant grass eight or ten feet in height. The country bore unmistakable signs of having been under water not so very many seasons before. It was pitted in every direction by elephant, rhinoceros, and hippopotamus tracks, which must have been made when the earth was very soft, as they averaged from a foot to eighteen inches in depth. These caused us great inconvenience, as, being hidden by the long grass, we stumbled in and out of them in a most unpleasant way, jarring our teeth and our tempers with great frequency. In our endeavours to find some sort of a path we lost the river, leaving it as we thought on our extreme left, and in searching for it, to our intense surprise, we walked nearly into it. It was flowing between perfectly perpendicular banks about six feet in height, and in a direction at right angles to its course at the commencement of the morning’s march. It was now little more than a large ditch, and required to be followed very carefully, as there were no trees on the banks to mark its position. This immense dried swamp is called by Mr. Chanler the Kirrimar Plain. Personally I am of opinion that in wet seasons, or after a series of wet seasons, that portion of it immediately adjoining the river forms part of a swamp or chain of swamps, to which the name Lorian is given. My reasons for this supposition are given in the next chapter.

We followed the river very carefully, as, in the event of its taking a sudden curve, we should have been absolutely lost, and in that case must inevitably have perished. Indeed, the men were already very frightened, and grumbled openly. They declared that we had got to the end of the world, and had much better turn back before worse befell us. The presence of numbers of rhinoceros had very much frightened them. We encountered over thirty of them on one march; and quite half a dozen times had to warily circumnavigate some ungainly member of the species who was grazing directly in our path. We paid no attention to this display of insubordination on the part of the men, but pushed on, every obstacle to our progress only serving to encourage us still more to persevere in our effort to reach the much-desired goal. The heat on this open plain was tremendous; it must have been above 120° Fahr. We were only a matter of about 800 feet above sea-level, and consequently encountered the full force of the vertical rays of the equatorial sun.

At midday we halted, and, creeping under a bush for shelter, ate our frugal meal of broiled meat, lying at full length on the ground. During the meal a whisper of “ungruwe” (pig) from Ramathani brought El Hakim to his feet. Seizing his rifle, he stepped outside and shot an old boar, who, with two or three sows, was quietly feeding about fifty yards away, utterly oblivious of our presence. His flesh was tough and tasteless, not in the least resembling pork.

Several of the men came to us during the halt, to inquire how much further we were going, as they thought that we had got into the country of the “Afreets” (devils), and it would be advisable to go no further. We assured them that two or three days at most would see us at the end of our journey. The country looked so desolate and barren that I do not wonder its appearance worked on the superstitious minds of our men. We laughed at them, but they were only half reassured. We started again, and continued to follow the river, which was now not more than ten yards wide. Large crocodiles swarmed on every mud-bank, some of them immense brutes, even El Hakim declaring that he had never seen larger. One ugly reptile which started up and plunged into the water at our approach, must have been fully twenty feet long or more. El Hakim appropriately called him “the father of all crocodiles.” This loathsome reptile, with its blunt and massive snout and immense scaly body, reminded me of the “Mugger” of the ford, in one of Kipling’s stories. The largest crocodiles were dark-brown in colour, but there were multitudes of smaller ones, some bright green and others bright yellow, two of which I shot during the afternoon. When we camped that evening we built huge fires between ourselves and the water, in order to prevent the possibility of any of our party being seized during the night by the hideous reptiles.

The following day was merely a repetition of the previous one. We advanced through the same dried-up swamp, with its innumerable pits, hidden by the same coarse grass and reeds. If anything, the landscape seemed to have acquired an added tinge of desolation. Rhino were a drug in the market, owing to the increased supply, but zebra and grantei stock advanced several points during the day. We followed the river very closely, not only because it was our only guide, but because the hippopotamus, which abound in this portion of the Waso Nyiro, had, in wandering from pool to pool, trodden a rough path on the crest of the perpendicular bank of the river, which made walking much easier than if we had forced our way across the plain in endeavouring to cut across curves in the river-bed, though it necessitated a longer walk. This path was also a favourite sleeping-place for wandering rhinoceros, and on several occasions we walked almost on to them, as they were hidden by the tall grass. A shout generally brought the sleeping brute to his feet with a snort and a stamp, and he would scurry away over the plain the picture of indignant reproach.

During the march a slight misunderstanding between El Hakim and myself came very near to landing us both in an extremely perilous position. One rhino we came up with did not wake so easily, and as he lay right across the path, we had to shift him by some means. Standing fifteen or twenty yards away, we shouted, but he did not move; so El Hakim stole softly up to within three or four yards of him, and, stooping, he broke off clods of earth from the edge of the river-bank and threw them at the sleeping beast, just as a small boy might chivvy a cat with stones. Even that did not move him, so I stole softly up to El Hakim with his ·577, which I handed to him. Instead of taking it, he seized my small-bore rifle, and I, thinking he meant me to try my luck with his, proceeded to cock it; but while I was doing so El Hakim let drive at the brute’s head with my rifle. If he had warned me of his intention, I should have told him that my ·303 shot very high at short range, but he fired before I could do so, and missed its brain altogether, only drilling a clean hole through the ear. Up jumped the rhino and faced us. I waited for El Hakim to fire again, while he, it afterwards appeared, waited for me to put in a shot with the heavier weapon. The rhino, meanwhile, made a rush at us, and we were both prepared to slip over the bank into the river and chance the crocodiles, when the brute changed its mind, and, swerving aside, galloped away across the plain. Mutual explanations ensued, and we proceeded on our momentarily interrupted journey. In cold print it would seem as if we had both betrayed some indecision, but the reader must bear in mind the fact that from the time El Hakim fired the shot from my ·303 to the time the rhino swerved and galloped away, an observer could not have counted more than four or five seconds.

The river still diminished very much in volume, as a large amount of water must of necessity be absorbed by the surrounding dry country, while the loss by evaporation must be enormous. According to our calculations we should now have been almost in sight of Lorian, having travelled quite sixty-five miles down the river from our Rendili camp.

On reaching a pool situated in a bend of the river, we came upon a school of hippopotamus wallowing in the mud at the water’s edge. We hid ourselves on the bank about ten yards away, and watched them for some time, as one very rarely has a chance of seeing them, unobserved, at such close quarters. Presently one of them rose, and, climbing the bank, walked slowly towards us, grazing as it came. El Hakim sat down—his favourite position for a shot—and dropped it dead with a bullet through the neck. At the sound of the report a terrific splash from the pool announced the alarm of the other members of the school, and with one accord they dived to the bottom, whence they reappeared at intervals to breathe, accompanied by much blowing and snorting. With shouts of joy our men instantly pounced upon the fallen hippopotamus, its meat being greatly esteemed by them as food. We also were badly in need of fat, which the dead animal supplied in great abundance. On cutting it open we found layers of rich yellow fat, a couple of inches thick, between the skin and the body. Great fires were at once lit, and for the next hour or two the spot resembled the deck of a whaler when the blubber is being boiled down. The men got a plentiful supply of fat for themselves, and, after an hour’s boiling and rendering, we also obtained two buckets of rich fat congealed to the consistency of butter, which it resembled in colour.

At this stage the men again wished to turn back, but as we could not have been very far from Lorian, we thought it would be a pity to give up the search; so we announced our intention of proceeding, a decision which they received with every sign of discontent and even terror.

At one o’clock in the afternoon, having disposed of the remains of the hippo, we once more made our way down-stream. Just before sunset we sighted the immense sycamore tree which marked the limit of Mr. Chanler’s journey, and from whence he sighted Lorian. Pushing forward with renewed vigour, we finally reached it, and looked round with eager eyes, fully expecting to get a glimpse of our long-sought-for goal.

Not a sign of the swamp could be seen! The river, scarcely half a dozen yards in width, meandered eastwards, flowing smoothly and sluggishly between its low banks. On every side stretched the silent plains, in some places perfectly bare, and in others covered by patches of dried reeds, while a few solitary thorny acacias stood like ragged sentinels amid the general desolation.

Lorian had vanished!