An hour before sunrise we arose, and, giving the men the most precise instructions to husband their ammunition to the utmost and leave any shooting to George and myself should it become necessary, we marched on to Bei-Munithu’s village. The moment we sighted it, where it stood on the summit of a hill, we rushed forward with a cheer, and, swarming up the side of the hill, we succeeded in getting into the village before the inhabitants knew what was happening. It was captured without a shot being fired, the natives fleeing out at the other end and into the bush. Instructing the men to collect as much food as they could carry, I took three or four with me and made for the huts where our goods were stored. Breaking them open, we soon had the loads out, and I then proceeded to Bei-Munithu’s hut. Bei-Munithu himself was nowhere to be seen. On searching his hut I found a large quantity of our goods stowed away in odd corners, and I was not at all surprised to find that some of them were a portion of the goods which were supposed to have been stolen from Bei-Munithu’s charge by the Wa’gnainu, and in which that old arch-traitor had evidently gone shares. I also found and promptly confiscated an old muzzle-loading musket, which was among his most treasured possessions.

By this time, as the men had collected all our loads of trade goods and also a few loads of food, I gave the command to retire. As I did so the phwit! phwit! of poisoned arrows aroused our attention, and a few of the tiny feathered shafts fell into the village and stuck quivering in the ground. It was very evident that the A’kikuyu did not intend to let us get away without a struggle. The men had also collected a few head of cattle and a large number of sheep and goats; and as it seemed that we should have to fight, I determined to make a running fight of it, and make it a good one while we were about it, and so teach the enemy a lesson, though we were sadly handicapped for want of Snider ammunition.

When I had got my little force together, I first set fire to the village, and then formed them up outside. As the enemy would most likely harass our rear, I took the rearguard myself, putting George in command of the bulk of the men, with the loads and the captured stock. I asked him at the same time to see that the men did not fire a shot till it was absolutely necessary. Barri, the Somali, took the advance guard of our little column.

By this time the smoke of the burning village and the cries of the fugitive inhabitants had aroused the whole country-side, and from the manner in which the war-cries resounded over hill and dale on every side, we discovered that we were in for a rather rough time. Our little force therefore moved off in the order described at ten minutes to eight in the morning, on the return march to M’thara.

The first hour’s march took us through a number of scattered villages, the inhabitants of which fled on our approach and joined the ever-growing force which threatened our rear. The villages were built in the midst of extensive banana plantations, and it was here that the first symptoms of serious opposition manifested themselves. A number of warriors concealed among the bananas commenced to pepper us with poisoned arrows at very short range, though fortunately none of the men were hit. One bold warrior let fly an arrow at George at not more than thirty yards, and then, catching my eye, he subsided behind a banana tree. He did not take into account the penetrative power of a ·303, and I think he must have been a very surprised native indeed when my bullet passed through the pulpy stem of the banana. Another let fly an arrow at the mule, which was being led, and missed her by an inch. George caught him with the 20-bore, dropping him, and then, swinging round, stopped another adventurous warrior who was creeping up to him with the other barrel, to the native’s intense discomfiture.

After a little more light skirmishing of this description on the route, we reached a small clearing, and on coming out into the open were cordially greeted with a shower of arrows from a large number of the enemy concealed in the bush on the opposite side. A smart fusillade from our men put a temporary check on the proceedings of this informal reception committee, and we continued our advance. Another warrior, who recklessly exposed his person in order to make insulting remarks with greater effect, retired precipitately with a much better idea of the theory of projectiles than he had hitherto possessed; and another who received a spherical ball in the leg at 200 yards from George, ceased to take any further interest in the proceedings. After this interchange of civilities the enemy kept out of range for awhile, and allowed us to cross the remainder of the banana plantations in safety, and into the thick bush on the other side; however, they were merely gathering reinforcements and preparing to attack in earnest.

It being, I believe, an axiom of warfare that “a retreating column should resemble a scorpion and carry its sting in its tail,” I picked out Resarse ben Shokar and Asmani ben Selim as being two of the coolest men, and they, together with a boy named Koranja, who carried my cartridge-bag and binoculars, formed my rearguard. George, with the main body of the men, had his hands full in preventing them firing away their few cartridges at the scenery, and then throwing down their loads and bolting—a proceeding which would have resulted in immediate and overwhelming disaster.

When we got into the thick bush the enemy tried several times to rush us, but the bush was as much in our favour as theirs, as it was too thick for them to use their arrows, for which providential circumstance I was devoutly thankful. Once or twice some of the bolder spirits advanced openly along the rearward path in the endeavour to rush my two men and myself, and cut us off, but the Lee-Metford is a beautiful weapon under such circumstances, and they abandoned the attempt. The enemy were constantly increasing in numbers, and the noise they made with their shouting and war-cries was terrific. I think they did it to keep their courage up, but it is a terrible waste of breath. They soon afterwards concentrated in force on our flanks and rear and tried another rush, but we were able by judicious shooting to keep them from getting too close.

The bush now ended in a ravine, at the bottom of which was a small stream. On the opposite bank of the stream was the edge of the thick forest which I have previously mentioned, and which extended as far as the open space called Karanjui, an hour’s journey further on. While George superintended the crossing of the men and animals, I and my two men squatted down in the bush at a turn in the path, about a hundred yards in the rear, and prepared a surprise for the enemy. They were howling in a most unmelodious key, and between the howls they informed us that they were coming to kill us, a piece of news which seemed to me to be quite superfluous under the circumstances; they added the interesting information that they were going ahead of us into the wood, and were there going to ambush us. I had already guessed that such was their intention, but I determined that such an awkward situation should not occur if I could prevent it. Our men in their turn inquired why, if they were coming to kill us, did they not come and carry out their intention? It appears that these exchanges of repartee are part of the ceremonial of A’kikuyu warfare, though at the time it seemed to me to be very childish. The enemy then shouted, “Resarse kutire mwaka,” literally, “Your bullets have no fire;” meaning to say that they did not hurt—evidently Bei-Munithu’s teaching. They were asked to “come and see,” an invitation they accepted. My little ambush worked perfectly, and they were within twenty yards when I opened fire. Two of them were put out of action at the first discharge, and the others retreated in disorder, having learnt a wholesome lesson.

A message from George then reached me, informing me that all the men and animals were now safely across the stream, so I followed him. Just as I got across the stream in my turn, some of the enemy, who had crossed higher up, made another rush, one of the most dangerous they had so far attempted. They got close enough this time to throw spears, one of which killed an unfortunate goat. I used my revolver, and George his gun, and they once more retired. One of the A’kikuyu who threw a spear was shot with an arrow by one of our Wakamba, who carried a bow and arrows which he had found in Bei-Munithu’s village. The M’kikuyu’s arm was still uplifted in the act of throwing the spear when our man’s arrow caught him in the side of the chest, under the armpit. The light arrow went halfway through his chest as easily as if he had been made of butter. If I had not seen it myself, I should not have credited their tiny arrows with such penetrative power. After crossing the stream we were beyond the boundary of the Munithu district, and I did not think it probable that we should be followed any further, as these people do not as a rule go into the territory of another tribe; but in this case I was mistaken.

During our march through the forest they made one or two abortive attempts to close with us, but finally contented themselves with howling, and, between the howls, threatening what they would do to us when they got us to Karanjui. It was my intention to try to reach Karanjui first, so that we might have a reasonable chance of crossing it before the enemy surrounded us. This we succeeded in doing, and we were halfway across when the leading warriors, forsaking the cover of the forest, trooped out into the open about 300 yards away. Asmani and Resarse, for whose conduct I have nothing but praise, waited behind to assist me in delaying the A’kikuyu, and so enabling George with the men and cattle to get across and into the cover of the forest on the other side. One of the enemy, bolder than the others, climbed on an ant-hill 70 yards distant from me, and danced at us in derision, making obscene gestures and insulting remarks. He desisted, however, on receiving a message from the ·303 that he was unable to disregard.

The next move of the enemy was to try to work round the western edge of Karanjui, which was about 500 yards away, and so get ahead of us. I took a few long shots at them, and wounded one man (who I afterwards found out to be a nephew of Bei-Munithu) in the leg, and soon stopped that game. George and the others were by this time once more in the forest, so I retired from my place in the open, and with my two men took up a fresh position at the entrance to the path leading into the forest. The enemy could not then see me, and, supposing I had gone on, they all came out into the open. When I saw their numbers I fairly gasped. “Wow,” said Resarse, “Watu winge, bwana” (There are many people, master), while Asmani merely grunted. They poured out of the forest paths in never-ending lines, till I thought every native in North Kenia was present. The plain soon became fairly black with them, and as they shouted and danced with their gaily painted shields and glittering spears flashing in the sun, I thought that a very short time indeed would see the end of my career. If “Captain Kettle” had been present at that moment, he would have considered it a particularly appropriate time to have composed a short piece of poetry; for myself, I simply broke out into a profuse perspiration, and proceeded to count my ammunition. It was with a horrible sinking feeling in the region of the belt that I discovered that I had only twenty rifle cartridges left, with about eighteen revolver ditto, and for a moment my nerve almost failed me as I realized what a really serious position we were in. It was only for a moment, however, and shouting to George to hurry on with the men as fast as possible to Chanjai, and bidding the boy Koranja go on with them, I settled down with Asmani and Resarse in a last desperate endeavour to turn the pursuit.

My plan was to expend my twenty cartridges in long-range rifle practice, and then hurry along after George, and trust to my revolver en route. After the first shot or two I found the range, and dropped one man at 300 yards, and then, as his companions scattered, I wounded another at 500 yards. The result was extremely gratifying, as the whole body of the enemy, and there must have been at least a thousand of them, then took cover and grovelled on their faces in the grass. I breathed freely once more, as I felt that I had got the enemy in hand. Soon a few of them rose to their feet again, but I waited till most of them had done so, and once more started in with the rifle. Down they all went again as regularly as clockwork. Asmani and Resarse shook with laughter at the sight. It really was too ridiculous to see the plain, which one moment would be covered with fierce black figures, and then on the sound of a shot the whole crowd disappear as one man, and nothing would be seen but the yellow tint of the waving grass.

After an expenditure of ten cartridges in this manner the A’kikuyu seemed to come to their senses, and they shouted that they “did not know the Wasungu were present,” but they now acknowledged their mistake, and added something to the effect that they were now quite convinced that the rifles of the Wasungu were not made solely for ornament. Without replying, I and my two men hurried on in George’s wake, and soon came up with him. I found that he had forty cartridges left, so that we had still a reasonable chance of getting back to camp.

We were not attacked in the second belt of forest, and on reaching the next open space we found to our infinite relief that the pursuit had almost entirely ceased; only a few natives following us, and those taking good care to keep out of range. We crossed another bush-belt and came out into the open plains at the foot of the Chanjai hills, and there the enemy finally abandoned the chase.

After a few minutes’ halt to rest, we resumed our march to camp. George now mounted the mule, intending to ride for an hour and then give me a turn, as we were both rather tucked up. We had marched for perhaps half an hour, when the mule suddenly shied, and, the girth breaking, George was thrown heavily to the ground. He fell on the back of his head and lay still. I hurried up, but before I could get near he was picked up by a couple of the men. When I finally reached him I asked if he were hurt, and he answered in a strange hollow sort of voice that he was “not hurt, only badly shaken.” This statement he repeated several times in a most aimless manner. I shook him a bit, but could get nothing more out of him. Suddenly he asked me if he might lean on me; he appeared to keep his feet with difficulty. In a few moments he seemed to be sufficiently recovered to ride again, and as the men had now caught the mule, I readjusted the saddle and helped him up, advising him to watch the mule closely in case she shied again. “All right,” he said, still in the same strained voice, and he went on again, while I resumed my position in the rear. Ten minutes later I saw him stop and wait for me to come up. When I reached him he asked in his natural voice what had happened? He had absolutely no recollection of his fall from the mule or the events immediately following it till he came to, and found himself on the mule quite ten minutes later. I told him what had happened, though he was manifestly incredulous. Beyond a few bruises and a headache he was not much hurt, and he never felt any serious after-effects.

We reached camp at 3 o’clock in the afternoon, after a solid seven-hour march, three hours of which were spent in continuous fighting. I did the whole distance on my feet, and by the time we reached camp felt pretty well done up.

The casualties on the enemy’s side, so far as I could ascertain, amounted to about nineteen. On our side we had one goat killed; a marvellous escape, all things considered.

When we got into camp we found everything safe. El Hakim was very surprised at our account of the persistent manner in which the natives had followed us, and expressed himself in warm terms on the way in which we managed to get away without any serious mishap.

Soon after our arrival we were surprised to see old Bei-Munithu come into camp. He had come to beg our pardon, and to swear eternal friendship in future. He bore no malice, which, to my mind, is a most engaging trait in the Kikuyu character. The A’kikuyu know when they are beaten, and a few hours after a life-and-death struggle with one, in which they had been vanquished, they will come into one’s camp and talk over it with a primitive frankness which I think delightful. Of course, should matters go the other way, they would just as cheerfully dance over your dismembered corpse, and should a favourable opportunity arise they would not hesitate to attempt any underhand trick; it is all the same to them. If their traitorous intentions are discovered and frustrated, they reason among themselves, “This is a very sharp and clever M’sungu. Let us go and see him, and eat food in his camp;” and away they go on a visit to their erstwhile enemy, and, after eating and making merry at his expense, they bid him a cordial adieu and perhaps attack him again next day. It is all so delightfully childlike, and primitive, and savage, that one cannot find it in one’s heart to bear any malice.

To return to Bei-Munithu. That old savage admitted that he had been very foolish, and had only been treated as he deserved, and undertook in future to treat all white men who came into his district with the greatest consideration. In the mean time he would like to make blood-brotherhood with George and myself. He was sorry, he added naïvely, that he had not done so on our way up. I told him that I hoped it would be a lesson to him, and pointed out that N’Dominuki, who had remained faithful, was now reaping his reward in the presents we showered upon him. Bei-Munithu then returned to his village, escorted by Jumbi and half a dozen men as far as Karanjui, in order to prevent the possibility of the Wa’Chanjei waylaying and murdering him.

As we had now a moderate quantity of food, we proposed starting on the following morning on our march round Kenia. The rain, however, once more descended in torrents, and drove us to the shelter of our tents for the next two days. We occupied ourselves during that time, partly in arranging and distributing loads, and partly in dispensing ointment to the constant stream of women and children who came into camp, suffering from chiggers. We also bought a few live fowls, which we carried with us.

Apropos of fowls, and as an instance of the ignorance often displayed by natives about anything outside their own particular concerns, I give an experience which once befell, El Hakim at Nyemps, the settlement at the south of Lake Baringo. On one occasion when visiting that place El Hakim took with him a dozen or so live fowls. Leaving there on one of his periodical excursions after elephants, he placed them in the care of an old man in Nyemps. Owing to unforeseen circumstances he did not return for six months. On his arrival there at the end of that time he inquired after his fowls. The old man who had been charged with their care led the way outside and pointed them out. As El Hakim did not see any chickens he concluded that the old man had eaten the eggs, and inquired if such were the case. After a little the old man seemed to understand, and, shaking his head, beckoned El Hakim to follow him. He led him into a hut, and displacing a stone which covered a hole in the centre of the floor, he proudly exhibited to El Hakim the six months’ collection of eggs, which were stored in the hole against his return. Asked why he had not eaten them, the old fellow looked amazed; he was apparently quite ignorant of the fact that they were eatable. He immediately called some of his cronies to him, and explained the seeming wonder to them. Their eyes glistened when the name of food was mentioned, and they immediately begged El Hakim to give them the eggs, which he did. They then doubtfully proceeded to test the truth of the M’sungu’s words, a proceeding which, as the eggs were some months old, led to the most disastrous results, and they became more than ever convinced that El Hakim was a most terrible liar. Further inquiry showed that they were perfectly ignorant of the nature of eggs, and of the part they played in the economy of nature.

At eleven o’clock in the morning of the fourteenth day after our arrival at M’thara from the Waso Nyiro the rain ceased, and taking advantage of the sunshine, we made hasty preparations for a start.

A number of Wakamba who had wandered from their own country during the famine, desired to return with us, and we allowed them to do so. This necessitated a rearrangement of the loads. There was, of course, a quarrel over the ivory. Resarse seized the 75-lb. tusk, and held it against all comers, until he was allowed to carry it. His previous load weighed barely 60 lbs. This was a striking illustration of the force of training. For centuries the Arabs, for interested reasons, have instilled into the mind of the Zanzibari that it is an honour to carry the largest tusk; with the result that it is now a part and parcel of safari “dasturi” (custom), which is like unto the “laws of the Medes and Persians, which altereth not.” However, after the usual squabbling, everything was arranged more or less satisfactorily, and bidding N’Dominuki farewell, we started on our long tramp to Nairobi.

Scarcely had we been an hour on the road when down came the rain again. It was impossible to get the sheep or cattle to travel in the rain. All they would do was to turn their backs to it and stand motionless. The rain soon converted the narrow path into a gutter, and when the downpour finally ceased, just before dusk, we were splashing through water over our ankles. We only made a little more than an hour’s ordinary march, and even then some of the sheep did not get into camp until long after dark. The hyænas were very bold, and in spite of the extra men whom we sent to the assistance of the drovers, they got among the sheep in the darkness and killed several.

All night long it rained in torrents, and we awoke in the morning to find over thirty sheep stretched out lifeless on the sodden earth. It was really most disheartening.

We made a start again at ten o’clock and marched in a westerly direction, the country gradually ascending as we progressed westwards.

From our camping-place the following evening we looked down on M’thara and Embe, while the temperature was appreciably lower. On the next day’s march we crossed over country of a rocky and gravelly formation, dotted everywhere with the peculiar whistling trees, which made a very weird and mournful sound in the breeze. It was a small thorny tree from four to eight feet in height, the leafless branches of which are covered with hollow spherical seed-pods, black in colour and the size of a plum. An insect bores a small hole in this shell, which, when the wind blows, causes it to emit a musical note, similar to that produced by an Eolian harp. These whistling trees covered the country for miles, and whistled in all keys at every breath of wind; the sound now increasing in volume, and anon dying away in a mournful wail that sounded almost uncanny.

We saw a solitary lioness on the road, but as soon as she saw us she made off at top speed over the open, before we could get within reasonable range.

We camped at some water-pools which the rain had left in a depression in the rocky surface. The men informed us that they had heard in M’thara that there was no water beyond these pools for ten days’ march; but though there were no rivers marked on my map, we felt convinced that there must be some rivers on the north side.

Joseph Thompson says, “A very few streams, and those of the smallest, rise on the east and north side” (of Kenia).

On the contrary, we had found the east of Kenia exceedingly well watered, though there were certainly no very large rivers, and as events proved, Thompson was equally at fault as regards the north side. But then he never visited north or east Kenia, his knowledge of those parts having been derived from native sources.

However, we felt certain that we should find water, so we pursued the uneven tenor of our way in spite of the maps.

We were still ascending, and the air began to get very cold at night; though the sun’s rays, when it was not raining, beat down during the day with undiminished vigour. Owing to the formation of the country, walking was by no means an unmixed pleasure, sand, gravel, and loose blocks of lava, and fragments of white quartz, making travelling both tiresome and fatiguing.

There was no game, and even the vegetation was very scanty; a few stunted thorn trees, and a species of aloe with red flowers, and some isolated Euphorbias forming the sole representatives of the vegetable world. The giant-branched Euphorbias (Nyikæ pax), presented a peculiar appearance with their huge cactus-like stem and vertical branches, which gave them the appearance of an immense candelabra. Some of them were thirty feet in height, with a stem six or eight feet in diameter. Great ravines, similar to those of east Kenia, but without their luxuriant vegetation, traverse the country from south to north. They required careful negotiation. Some of them had to be followed for miles along the edge before a suitable crossing-place was discovered. They all have considerable streams of water in the bottom, which flow north, and eventually join the Waso Nyiro.

We saw another lion, and stalked him for awhile, but he retreated into a patch of bush near one of the ravines and could not be found, nor could we waste much time in looking for him.

Late in the afternoon, on October 27th, we crossed a large ravine, and on climbing the opposite slope we emerged into open green country. As far as the eye could see the grass-grown surface rolled away in undulating ridges, without a tree or a bush to relieve the eye. It reminded me very much of portions of the Downs in Sussex, from which the trees had been removed. A herd of zebra disported themselves on the plain, and after a careful stalk I secured one of them for the men, who were already growing short of food. We camped that night on the grass, the air being very much colder, the temperature being certainly not more than 55° Fahrenheit.