For the next day or two we travelled over rolling grass-land, scarred by ravines, the sides of which were clothed with magnificent forests. These forests are very beautiful, and convey a welcome sense of restfulness and peace to the tired and weary traveller who enters their dark and silent precincts. The contrast from the glare of the sun-baked lava plains, dotted with the glittering quartz blocks, which were visible to the north, was exceedingly grateful; and the easy walking over the soft yielding moss was most delightful after the loose pebbles and stones and stiff yellow grass we had stumbled over for the previous few weeks. Tall junipers and podocarpus reared their stately heads towards the sky, the masses of grey beard-like lichen, pendant from their massive boughs, giving them a hoary and venerable appearance that accorded well with the deep silence of these forest glades, whose solemn aisles are seldom, if ever, disturbed by man. Even the birds and insects seemed unwilling to break the universal silence, and the soft hum of some flying insect, or a subdued chirp from a solitary bird were only occasionally heard. That most irreverent of animals, the Zanzibari porter, hushed his speech to a soft murmur, impressed in spite of himself by the grandeur and solitude of these primeval glades. On the first day’s march over the grass plains we crossed three good-sized streams, and finally camped at some pools we discovered in the bed of a sand river, which sufficed for our own requirements, the animals having drunk all they required during the march. On that day I shot another zebra, but found they were increasingly difficult to obtain in this open country. They were very wild, and would not let me approach nearer than 600 yards. I risked a shot at that distance with the Martini, and as luck would have it, I dropped one beast with a bullet clean through the heart. On short rations we found that it required one zebra per diem to feed the men.

The next day we reached a large ravine, at the bottom of which flowed a large river, called the Ngare Moosoor (Egg River), which took us an hour and a half to cross. No game was to be seen, but luckily the men had enough food to last them for another day or two, as they still had some of the grain left which they had brought from Munithu.

It rained hard during the night, but cleared up again at sunrise, and we resumed our march over the grass-covered downs. At midday we reached yet another ravine, the largest we had seen so far. Its sides were clothed with the same forest, but the undergrowth was thicker than usual. Not finding a place to cross the ravine, we threaded our way through the jungle in a direction parallel to it. It was extremely hard work, we having to cut our way with knives and axes for considerable distances. The simés of our Wakamba proved exceedingly useful at this work. The undergrowth was loaded with raindrops, which soon drenched us through, and at this considerable altitude (over 8000 feet) it was very cold in the shade, which rendered us still more uncomfortable in our soaked condition. Finally we found a Wandorobbo path, which led us to the bottom among some of the wildest forest scenery I ever beheld. A river flowed at the base, but we could not discover its name. It rained very hard in the afternoon, so we camped in the cedar forest on the opposite summit of the ravine.

The next morning we found many of the sheep had died during the night from the cold and exposure. After a short march we reached the Ngare Nanuki (Red water), wrongly spelled on the map as the Ngare Nyuki, and we crossed and camped on the further bank. No game was to be seen on the road, so we were compelled to kill ten of the sheep for food for ourselves and the men. The next march took us to a large river, called the Sirimon, which we crossed, though not without some difficulty, as the swift current swept the sheep away, so that the men were compelled to stand in the water and hand them across. The cedar forest on the other side was exceedingly beautiful, but the weather was very cloudy and uncertain, and this circumstance detracted somewhat from our enjoyment of the scenery.

We camped on the further bank of another stream, half an hour’s march beyond the Sirimon. We were then at an altitude of about 10,000 feet. To the south of the camp a huge cloud bank indicated the position of Kenia. Presently this cloud bank showed signs of dispersing, and I took the camera out into the open in the hope of obtaining a photograph of the peak of Kenia from its northern aspect. For over an hour I waited patiently while the cloud bank swirled hither and thither, at times disclosing a small portion of the peak in a most tantalizing manner; but just as I was beginning to despair of getting a chance before the light failed, the clouds parted for a moment, and to my great delight I secured the coveted exposure, which, though yielding a far from perfect negative, was as good as I could expect under the circumstances.

We were compelled to kill more of the sheep for food, as no game whatever was to be seen; the effect, I suppose, of the rinderpest. We saw thousands of skulls of cattle scattered over the plains of North Kenia, the remains of the vast herds of the Masai, who at one time used this stretch of country as a grazing ground. Some few of the remains were no doubt the tracks of parties of Masai elmoran, who, from their settlements at Kinangop and Naivasha, used this road on their raiding expeditions to M’thara, Munithu, and north-east Kenia generally.

On the following day, which on consulting my diary I find to be the 2nd of November, 1900, we started at eight o’clock in the morning, and an hour later reached a small stream. Crossing this without much trouble we marched for another two hours, at the end of that time reaching the upper waters of the Waso Nyiro.

The Waso Nyiro has always been supposed to rise in the Aberdare Range, and to flow in a north-easterly direction till it is joined by the Ngare Nanuki, and then to flow northward. This is a mistake, so far as it is supposed to rise in the Aberdare Range, as the Waso Nyiro really rises in the western side of Kenia itself, the comparatively small and muddy stream hitherto supposed to be Waso Nyiro being merely tributary to it.

At the spot only a few miles from its source, where we crossed the Waso Nyiro, it was already a fairly large and deep stream, with a very swift current. It lies at the bottom of a large ravine, which we were at first unable to cross, but after searching the crest for an hour we discovered a broad elephant path which took us down to the bottom, across the river, and up the other side. At the crossing-place the Waso Nyiro flows over dark coloured rock; the water was icy cold and most remarkably pellucid. Objects such as small stones, etc., in the bed of the stream, were surprisingly distinct; and but for the swiftly flowing current that distorted their outlines a little, it would have been difficult to believe that they were being viewed through from four to six feet of water. Taking this into consideration, I am in no way surprised that it is called the Waso Nyiro, literally clear water. Till that time the name had seemed to me to be somewhat of a misnomer, as the Waso Nyiro, for the 140 odd miles of its course that we had traversed, was a yellowish muddy stream, which belied its name.

The Masai from Gilgil and Naivasha, in their raids on North-east Kenia, most probably used the route we were then following—as instanced by the bones of the cattle—and would cross the river at the same spot. With their gift for appropriate nomenclature they, to my mind, could not do otherwise than name it the “Clear water,” in the same way as they named the Ngare Nanuki the “Red water,” on account of the apparent colour given to the water by the red gneiss rock over which it flows in that part of its course which lay on their route to and from North-east Kenia.

The Waso Nyiro rises on the west of Kenia; and, on reaching the base of the mountain, turns sharply north, being then joined by the stream which drains the eastern face of the Aberdare Range, and further on by the Ngare Nanuki.

We camped on the opposite side of the ravine, amid some of the loveliest scenery imaginable. The ground was covered with short green grass, resembling a well-kept meadow. Leleshwa bushes grew in clumps on every hand, forming some of the prettiest glades one would wish to see. The elephant path led through this bush belt, and out into the open ground to the westwards towards Kinangop. These elephant paths are the finest roads in Equatorial Africa. Almost human intelligence seems to have been displayed in the selection of their curves and gradients, while their solidity is beyond cavil.

Poor “Sherlock Holmes” was prostrated with tetanus at this camp. El Hakim said he could do nothing for him. When we marched the next day we were compelled to leave him behind with another man who was sick, in charge of Jumbi, who was to take care of them until we sent men back from the next camp to carry them on.

During the march another man, an M’kamba, deserted. On inquiring the reason for such an extraordinary desertion in such an inhospitable region, we were informed by the other men that they had intended to kill him because he had cast a spell on “Sherlock Holmes,” and so caused his illness; but he had got wind of their amiable intentions, and cleared out. Asked in what manner he had cast the spell, the men replied that he had gathered leaves of a certain plant and had strewn them on the path, and when his unsuspecting victim walked over them he was immediately smitten with disease. The reason for this deadly animosity appeared to be a purely domestic one, and had something to do with the deserter’s wife, to whom the sick man had paid more attention than her husband had considered desirable or necessary. We endeavoured to explain that there was no such thing as witchcraft, and their companion’s illness was more probably due to the cold and damp we were then experiencing, but without result, the men being firmly convinced that a malignant spell had been worked by the unfortunate husband upon the disturber of his domestic peace.

We were now travelling in a south-westerly direction towards N’doro, and hoped in a couple of days more to reach the inhabited districts. Game once more appeared in the shape of a solitary rhinoceros and a herd of zebra, which we saw grazing on the plains just outside our camp of the 3rd of November. I went after the zebra, while El Hakim and George tackled the rhino. I could not get nearer to the zebra than 400 yards, and I tried a shot at that range, but unfortunately missed. They never gave me another chance, and I returned empty-handed to camp.

In the meantime the others had worked down wind of the rhino, and then laid down on the plain in the brute’s path and waited until it almost walked over them. When he was quite close El Hakim put a bullet into its shoulder. The rhinoceros immediately charged, but the left barrel of the ·577 got home, and it turned and fled in a direction at right-angles to its previous course. El Hakim then took a running shot at the beast, smashing its front horn, but it continued its flight. As it was by that time quite 200 yards away, George took a shot at it with his ·303, and once more hit it, with the result that it only fled the faster, and they finally had the mortification of seeing it disappear in a belt of bush a couple of miles distant. They therefore gave up the chase and returned to camp. On their way back they were caught in a terrific thunderstorm, and got into camp half-drowned, much chagrined at their non-success.

It rained all night and until half-past nine the following morning, when we made another start. Some more of the sheep died during the night, which the men used as food. Latterly the sheep had been dying in batches of ten or twelve every night, and their numbers were now greatly reduced, with, of course, a corresponding reduction in our prospective dividends; so that, what with the weather and other things, we did not feel so cheerful as we might otherwise have done.

“Sherlock Holmes” died on the 4th, and we buried him beneath a heap of stones, in spite of the energetic protests of his companions, who desired that he should be left to the hyænas—the usual Wakamba funeral—as, strange to say, they appear to have a violent prejudice against burial.

We only travelled an hour on that day, as the rain once more descended in torrents and put a stop on our further progress. The country hereabouts was absolutely open, not a tree or a bush showing up anywhere, so that we were unable to build an enclosure for the sheep, or even, for lack of fuel, to light fires. On our right hand rose the lofty heights of the Aberdare Range, and behind them again the isolated mass of Kinangop reared its stately peak 13,120 feet above the level of the sea.

The next day or two were among some of the most miserable we had spent so far. It rained morning, noon, and night, and the poor sheep succumbed in ever increasing numbers. We were out of fresh meat. Mutton had grown distasteful to us, so we lived on beans boiled in hippo fat—a nourishing but monotonous dish.

On the 5th of November we once more reached the Tana at a place near its source. It flowed in a south-westerly direction, at the bottom of the usual deep ravine. It is here known as the Kilaluma, i.e. “fire water.” In the afternoon El Hakim was fortunate enough to knock over a Thompson’s gazelle, and we dined sumptuously. The sun also showed itself for an hour or so, and quite cheered us up. It, however, rained hard all night, killed twenty more sheep, and prevented us starting till after ten o’clock in the morning.

An hour later we crossed a small stream and found ourselves among some good native paths which led into nice-looking open bush country. Three hours later we camped, and sent men out to look for villages so that we might purchase food from the inhabitants, though as they were A’kikuyu, we were rather doubtful of our reception.

A rhinoceros charged through the camp while we were pitching the tents, scattering the men in all directions, though fortunately doing no harm, and disappeared into the bush on the opposite side of the camp.

At dusk a great crowd of A’kikuyu swaggered into camp, making a most infernal din, and waving knob kerries about in a very reckless manner. At first they seemed aggressive, but when we intimated our willingness to present sheep as payment for a few days’ supply of muhindi, they changed their tune, and the bartering then went on amicably enough, though accompanied by a terrific amount of noise, without which the A’kikuyu seem to be unable to conduct even the smallest business transaction. To the great delight of the men we secured five days’ supply of muhindi and a quantity of sugar cane, besides a little honey.

On inquiry we learnt that Maranga was four days’ journey to the eastward. The path lay through thickly populated country the whole way, and we anticipated some difficulty in traversing it without losing any of the sheep, as the A’kikuyu are expert thieves. We were on the south bank of the Tana, and consequently we should be compelled to cross it, as the country on the south bank, though comparatively uninhabited, was a mass of rugged hills, and practically pathless. We were not anxious to cross the Tana, as it would necessitate our re-crossing it at Maranga, and with the amount of rain which had recently fallen, we were very doubtful whether the ford would be practicable. We secured a guide for the following day, promising him a sheep if he took us safely to Maranga. We heard further that Mr. Hall, the Government officer, had established a station at Mbiri, a couple of hours’ journey from the south bank of the Tana opposite Maranga. This was, indeed, good news, as we were yearning to see a white face once more, and incidentally get something decent to eat. Another white man, whose name we could not ascertain, was stationed with Mr. Hall. He was the officer in charge of the Nubian troops who garrisoned the station.

At nine o’clock the following morning we broke camp and started. Half an hour later we crossed the Tana, here about six yards wide and waist deep. There was a very strong swift current, and this occasioned some difficulty when getting the sheep across. During the operation numbers of A’kikuyu volunteered to assist, but we considered it prudent to keep them at a distance. The road on the other side was very bad, consisting merely of a narrow footpath winding along the steep slope of a rounded hill, about halfway up. On each side of the path the grass was very thick and three to four feet high. Many A’kikuyu had concealed themselves in this grass, and endeavoured every now and then to quietly seize a sheep by the hind leg as it passed and then sneak away with it. This necessitated constant watchfulness on our part, as the sheep, owing to the narrowness of the track, were compelled to travel in single file, and were stretched over a quarter of a mile of path, so that it was impossible with our few men to guard the whole line at once. Small groups of natives followed us. They appeared very friendly, too friendly in fact, and they displayed quite an alarming desire to assist us in driving the sheep, though we consistently declined their kind offers, to their evident disappointment. It took us three hours to travel two miles, so we halted and camped. Luckily the rain kept off. The guide, on being questioned, promised us a better road on the morrow.

It rained a little in the night, and prevented our starting till nine o’clock. As the guide had predicted, the road was very much better. Another river, the Mogoroni, a tributary of the Tana, was crossed during the morning, and after a three-hour march, we camped once more.

On the way we passed through many villages and extensive plantations; indeed, from here to Maranga the country was very densely populated, and food was more than plentiful. At the various camps the natives brought us cow ivory for sale, but we were unable to buy it as cow ivory is confiscated by the Government. It seemed rather a shame to leave it, but under the circumstances we could not do otherwise.

At this camp we were visited by the paramount chief of the district, a Masai named Kwa-Ngombe. He was accompanied by many of his elmoru (elders) and some Wandorobbo. Kwa-Ngomba strode haughtily into camp and demanded a cow as a present. We promptly refused to accede to such a preposterous demand, and after he had repeated it, and was still met with a decided refusal, he stalked out of camp the picture of offended dignity. He himself had not brought even so much as a sweet potato, so that we were the more abrupt in our refusal. After his departure some of his elders and the Wandorobbo stayed with us for an hour or so for a chat. They gave us the general news of the district, and among other items of more or less doubtful veracity, they included an impossible yarn about some cannibal dwarfs who had visited Maranga since our stay in that place. They described them as “watu wafupi sana” (“very short men”), and indicated, by holding their hands that distance above the ground, that they were about four feet in height. They further stated that these dwarfs came to Maranga to buy people that they might eat them. We cross-examined them closely, for we did not at all believe their story. They were asked where these dwarfs came from. That question rather stumped them, but after a few moments’ cogitation they hit on the furthest place they could think of. “They came from beyond Mombasa!” said they.

On receiving this reply, we were convinced that the story was a pure fabrication, and said as much. They only smiled and changed the subject. We inquired at Maranga afterwards, and were confirmed in our opinion as to their untruthfulness. It is very strange that they should find so much amusement in such senseless and purposeless lies, though, to be sure, the practice is not wholly confined to the African native.

It rained hard all night, and the whole of the next day, so that travelling was impossible. We spent the day playing dominoes, going outside at intervals to watch the sheep die, and to grumble at our bad luck. It rained also all the next night and the greater part of the next morning; but it cleared sufficiently at midday to enable us to proceed. We therefore made a three-hour march and again camped. The clay paths were very steep and extremely slippery after the rain, causing us no small amount of trouble, while the sick and wearied sheep stumbled about in a most distressing manner.

After we had camped, I and the guide went on ahead for an hour or two in order to prospect the morrow’s road. To my great delight I saw Doenyo Sabuk, away in the distance to the south-east, and further to the south I saw the summits of the hills behind Nairobi, which lay rather less than sixty miles away. It seemed very strange to me to reflect that I was standing in the heart of Kikuyuland amid a would-be hostile people, to all intents and purposes as far away from civilization as if I was at the North Pole, and where at any moment a dispute over a stolen sheep would resolve itself into a desperate and pitiless fight for life; while there, scarcely sixty miles away, and on this side of the range of hills which seemed so near, lay Nairobi with its houses, its railway workshops, locomotives, Baboo clerks and ticket collectors, and all the varied and busy life of a modern colonial town.

During the night it rained again, and killed off some more of the sheep. We started early in the morning in the hope of reaching Maranga the same day, a hope, however, we did not realize.

The A’kikuyu made themselves rather obnoxious on the road, and one or two shots were fired by our men. A calf and sheep were stolen, the thieves getting clear away with their booty into the thick bush. If we had let the matter pass we should have had further trouble on the next march, so when we camped we sent for the chief of the district. When he appeared we informed him of the circumstance, and intimated at the same time that we should like to see him stay in our camp until the stolen property was restored. This apparently did not at all coincide with his ideas, as he immediately made a dash for liberty, meanwhile shouting to his warriors, of whom there were a great number in the camp, who disappeared into the surrounding bush like shadows. We had, however, anticipated just such a move on his part, and at a signal from us, Barri, the Somali, seized the chief and secured him, and I was under the painful necessity of handcuffing him to the tent-pole and putting a sentry over him. He then took quite a different view of the case, and despatched messengers, whom we had allowed into camp for that purpose, to the people who had stolen our animals. An hour or two afterwards the messengers returned with the missing beasts, and they were handed over to us with profuse apologies. We thereupon released the chief, telling him not to do it again, though, as a matter of fact, he did not know of the theft till we ourselves so abruptly informed him of it. We could not, however, but hold him responsible for any indiscretion committed by his people. On his release, in order to show him that we bore no malice, we presented him with a bead necklace and a coloured cloth, and asked him to bring us some sweet potatoes and yams, and anything else in the vegetable line that he might wish to present to us, which he promised to do. He accordingly returned in the evening with a supply of vegetables and a dark brown fat-tailed Kikuyu sheep as a present. In return we presented him with a couple of Rendili sheep, with which he was delighted.

The chief informed us that Maranga was only one march away and that the road was good, and, in addition, he himself would accompany us thither, in order to prevent any more of our property being stolen. He was as good as his word, and at eight o’clock the next morning we resumed our journey. Just before we started I took a photograph of Mount Kenia as it lay fully exposed to view in the half-light of the early morning of a dull day. The result is not all that could be desired, but it will give a very fair idea of the aspect of the mountain from the south-west.

We found the road as steep and slippery as on the previous day, and it tried the animals exceedingly. For that reason we made a short march and camped at half-past ten.

Soon after the tents were pitched, our old friend Manga and his son Koranja appeared. They had heard of our approach and had come to meet us. They greeted us very heartily, expressing delighted surprise at our safe return. We spent the rest of the day in discussing the news with them.

During the afternoon the chief of the surrounding district who answered to the name of Simba (lion), came into camp, and, following the example of his neighbour, our friend of yesterday, brought with him a sheep and some vegetables as a present. He received a couple of Rendili sheep in return, and we parted with mutual good wishes.

The next morning we marched straight into Maranga and camped beside a brook, which ran into the Tana about half a mile further down. Owing to the heavy rains we surmised that there would be a lot of water in the Tana; even in this small brook the water was breast high, with a current almost powerful enough to sweep one bodily away. The natives affirmed that it would be impossible to cross the Tana for at least three weeks, and perhaps longer. Accordingly after lunch I went on to the Tana accompanied by two men, in order to see for myself. My first view of the river was a revelation. It was extraordinarily high, the constant heavy rains having greatly swelled its volume; and it is not a small river at any time. The ford was under six feet of water, with a muddy brown current swirling and eddying past at a speed of between four and five miles an hour. It would have been utterly impossible to cross with our loads and animals until the flood had considerably subsided, and meanwhile the rain showed no sign of ceasing. I returned to camp thoroughly dispirited.

On the way back I passed a magnificent waterfall which I had not previously heard of. The whole volume of the river roared and tumbled in great masses of foam over the naked black rock, plunging down some twelve or fifteen feet in a yeasty smother, accompanied by a thunderous roar which effectually precluded any attempt at conversation in the immediate vicinity. At the foot of the fall the water boiled and swirled in a great pool. Waves several feet high were thrown against each other by the violence of the water, which was seemingly gathering strength for its fierce mad rush through the only outlet from the pool, a narrow channel with perpendicular sides, and about 60 feet across, cut through the solid rock. Large rugged trees hung over the falls and round the edges of the pool, their leaves dripping moisture from the hissing clouds of spray cast high in the air upon every side, the whole forming a scene of savage grandeur, wonderfully impressive, and not easily forgotten.