Kriger and Knapp joined us on the morning of June 7th, and at 2 p.m. we set out on our eventful journey. It was rather a rush at the last moment, as so many things required adjustment. It was impossible to foresee everything. I stopped behind as whipper-in for the first few days, as the porters required something of the sort at the commencement of a safari, in order to prevent desertions, and also to assist those who fell out from fatigue.

On the first day I had a lot of trouble. The donkeys annoyed me considerably; they were not used to their loads, and consequently they kept slipping (the loads, not the donkeys), requiring constant attention.

The porters also were very soft after their long carouse in the bazaar, and every few yards one or another sat down beside his load, and swore, by all the saints in his own particular calendar, that he could not, and would not, go a step farther. It was my unpleasant duty to persuade them otherwise. The consequence was, that on the evening of the first day I got into a camp an hour after the others, quite tired out. It was delightful to find dinner all ready and waiting. To misquote Kipling, I “didn’t keep it waiting very long.”

The next morning we crossed one of the tributaries of the Athi River. It was thickly overgrown from bank to bank with papyrus reeds, and we were consequently obliged to cut a passage. The donkeys had also to be unloaded, and their loads carried across. We got wet up to the knees in the cold, slimy water, which did not add to our comfort. We passed a rhinoceros on the road, but did not stop to shoot him as we were not in want of meat.

Crossing another river an hour or so later, we made the passage easily by the simple expedient of wading across up to our middles, without troubling to undress or take our boots off; all except George, who was riding the mule. He declared that he “wasn’t going to get wet!” we could be “silly cuckoos” if we liked! he was “going to ride across.” He attempted it; halfway across the mule slipped into deep water, plunged furiously to recover itself, broke the girth, and George and the mule made a glorious dive together into ten feet of water. Jumping in, I succeeded in getting hold of the mule’s head while George scrambled ashore, gasping with cold. In the mean time Kriger and Knapp with El Hakim had got some distance ahead, leaving George and myself to see the safari safely across. When we reached the other side we found ourselves in a swamp, through which we had to wade for over a mile before reaching firm ground. Then the porters struck in a body, saying they were done up and utterly exhausted, and could go no further. I eventually convinced them, not without a certain amount of difficulty, however, that it would be to their interest to go on.

Soon afterwards I got a touch of sun, and my head ached horribly. I then fastened the saddle on the mule with one of the stirrup straps, and rode some of the way. We reached the Nairobi River towards the close of the afternoon, and crossed by clambering over the boulders plentifully strewn about the river bed. Just below were the Nairobi Falls, which are about 100 feet deep, and extremely beautiful.

At the foot of the Falls the river flows through a deep, rocky glen, which in point of beauty would take a first prize almost anywhere. Great water-worn boulders, clothed with grey-green and purple mosses, among which the water trickled and sparkled in tiny musical cascades; ferns of rare beauty, and flowers of rich and varied hues, gave an artistic finish to the whole; an effect still further accentuated by the feathery tops of the graceful palms and tree ferns that grew boldly out from the steep and rocky sides of that miniature paradise.

We found the others had camped a few yards away from the Falls. Kriger and Knapp had been fishing, and had caught a lot of fine fish; Kriger had also shot a congoni. I had my tent pitched, and immediately turned in, as I felt very tired and feverish. Walking in a broiling sun, and shouting at recalcitrant porters for eight and a half hours, on an empty stomach, is not calculated to improve one physically or morally.

After a good night’s sleep I felt much better, and decided to walk when we made a start next morning, handing the mule over to George, who had been very seedy ever since we left Nairobi, the result of his recent severe illness in Uganda. When the tents were struck, we headed due northwards to Doenyo Sabuk, which was now beginning to show up more clearly on the horizon. It was about twenty miles distant, and we calculated that two days’ further marching would take us round it.

Soon after we started Knapp shot a guinea-fowl. He used a Winchester repeating shot-gun, a perfectly horrible contrivance, of which he was very proud. When the cartridges were ejected it clanked and rattled like a collection of scrap iron being shaken in a sack.

During that march we had a maddening time with the ticks, with which the Athi plains are infested. They were large, flat, red ticks, similar to those I have seen in Rhodesia (Ixodes plumbeus?). They clung to our clothing and persons like limpets to a rock. We should not have minded a dozen or two, at least not so much, but they swarmed on us literally in thousands. We halted every few moments while Ramathani brushed us down, but, so soon as we were comparatively cleared of them, we picked up a fresh batch from the long grass. They bite very badly, and taking them by and large, as a sailor would say, they were very powerful and vigorous vermin; almost as vigorous as the language we wasted upon them.

About an hour after we started we sighted a rhinoceros fast asleep in the grass, about three hundred yards down wind. George and I examined him with the binoculars—the others were a mile ahead—and as we were not out looking for rhinoceros just then, we passed on. We had proceeded barely a quarter of a mile when a confused shouting from the rear caused us to look round. The sleeping rhinoceros had wakened, and proceeded to impress the fact upon the safari. Having winded the men he incontinently charged them, and when George and I glanced back we saw the ungainly brute trotting backwards and forwards among our loads, which the men had hurriedly dropped while they scattered for dear life over the landscape. It was certainly very awkward, as it looked very much as if I should have to go back and slay it, which, I will confess, I was very loth to do, as Ramathani was some distance ahead with all my spare ammunition. The magazine of my ·303 contained only half a dozen cartridges, with soft-nosed bullets. I diplomatically waited a while to see if the brute felt disposed to move; but it was apparently perfectly satisfied with its immediate surroundings, and stood over the deserted loads snorting and stamping and looking exceedingly ugly.

The cattle and donkeys, which were under Jumbi’s charge, were also coming up. Jumbi came as near as he dared, and then halted, and waited in the rear till it should please the Bwana (meaning me) to drive the “kifaru” away. The rest of the porters having scuttled to what they considered a safe distance, sat down to await events with a stolid composure born of utter irresponsibility.

I felt, under the circumstances, that it was incumbent upon me to do something, it being so evidently expected; so I advanced towards the rhinoceros, not without some inward trepidation, as I greatly distrusted the ·303. Walking to within fifty yards of the spot where it was stamping defiance, I shouted at it, and said shoo! as sometimes that will drive them away. It did not move this beast, however, so, mentally donning the black cap, I took careful aim, and planked a bullet in his shoulder! If it was undecided before the beast soon made up its mind then, and, jumping round like a cat, came straight for me at a gallop, head down, ears and tail erect, and a nasty vicious business-like look about the tip of his horn that gave me cold chills down the spine. I don’t wish to deny that I involuntarily turned and ran—almost anybody would, if they obeyed first impulses. I ran a few yards, but reason returned, and I remembered El Hakim’s warning that to run under such circumstances was almost invariably fatal. I turned off sharply to the right, like the hunters in the story books, hoping that my pursuer would pass me, and try one of the porters; but he wouldn’t; he had only one desire in the wide, wide world, and that was to interview me. I, on the other hand, was equally anxious not to be interviewed, but I must admit that at the moment I did not quite see how I was to avoid it. He was getting closer and closer at each stride, so there being logically no other way, I stopped and faced him.

I therefore knelt down and worked my magazine for all I was worth, fervently hoping that it would not jam. In less than ten seconds I put four bullets into the enraged animal at short range. All four took effect, as I distinctly saw the dust spurt from his hide in little puffs where they struck. At the fourth shot he swerved aside, when within fifteen yards of me, and as he turned I gave him my sixth and last cartridge in the flank to hasten his departure; and very glad indeed I was to see him go. He had six bullets in various parts of his anatomy; but I expect they did little more than break the skin, though the shock probably surprised him. He disappeared over a rise in the ground a mile away, still going strong; while I assumed a nonchalant and slightly bored air, and languidly ordered the men to take up their scattered loads and resume the march.

An hour or so after we reached and crossed the Athi River. It was a hot and dusty tramp. Kriger being some miles ahead, had, with a laudable desire to guide us, fired the grass on his way. The result was hardly what he anticipated. The immense clouds of smoke gave us our direction perfectly well, but the fire barred our progress. Quite half a dozen times we had to rush through a gap in the flames, half choked and slightly singed. Once or twice I thought we should never get the mules or donkeys through at all, but we chivied them past the fire somehow. The burnt ground on the other side was simply horrible to walk on. I fully realized what the sensations of the “cat on hot bricks” of the proverb were. Kriger meant well, but, strange to say, neither George nor I felt at all thankful. As a matter of fact, our language was at times as hot as the ground underfoot, not so much on our own account as on that of our poor barefooted men.

The Athi was not very wide at the point where we crossed, but a little distance lower down it becomes a broad and noble stream flowing round the north side of Doenyo Sabuk till it joins the T’savo River about 120 miles south-east of that mountain, the two combining to form the Sabaki, which flows into the sea at Milindi. The Athi is full of fish, and we saw fresh hippopotamus’ tracks near the spot where we camped at midday.

After lunch George and I went fishing with Kriger and Knapp: net result about 40 lbs. of fine fish, a large eel, and a mud turtle. Afterwards Kriger and I went out shooting. We were very unlucky. Out on the plains towards Doenyo Sabuk we saw vast herds of game, including congoni, thompsonei, zebra, impala, and water-buck, but the country was perfectly flat and open and the wind most vexatiously variable, so that, do what we would, we could not get within range. I managed to bag a hare with the before-mentioned piece of mechanism which Knapp miscalled a shot-gun. Soon afterwards we were traversing some broken rocky ground when Kriger suddenly exclaimed, “Look, there are some wild pig!” We started after them, and got within a hundred yards before we discovered that the supposed wild pig were a magnificent black-maned lion and four lionesses. They spotted us almost as soon as we had seen them, and when we tried to get near enough for a shot they walked into a patch of tall reeds and remained there growling, nor would they show themselves again. We did not think it good enough to tackle five lions in thick reeds, so we reluctantly withdrew.

Kriger had shot a lion some months previously, and was attacked and badly mauled by the lioness while examining the prostrate body of his quarry, his left arm being bitten through in several places. He struggled with her for some minutes, forcing his arm between her open jaws, and thereby preventing her from seizing his shoulder or throat. His life was only saved by a sudden fall backwards over a bank which was concealed by the undergrowth. The lioness was so surprised by his complete and utterly unexpected disappearance that, casting a bewildered look around, she turned and fled.

We continued our hunt for game, and presently Kriger wounded a congoni. It appeared very badly hit, and we followed it for several miles in the hope that it would drop; but it seemed to get stronger with every step, and finally, to our great disgust and disappointment, joined a herd and galloped away, while we sat down on the hard cold ground and bemoaned our luck. On the way back to camp—and a weary walk it was—we shot another solitary congoni at three hundred yards’ range, and fortunately hit him; but we put three bullets each into the beast before it dropped, so remarkably tenacious of life are these animals. We returned to camp at dusk, thoroughly tired out. I retired to rest immediately after dinner, thus concluding a not entirely uneventful day.

We did not march the next day, as El Hakim wished to examine the surrounding country from a farming and stock-raising point of view. He and Kriger rode off on the mules after breakfast with that intention. Knapp and I went fishing, while George—sensible chap—laid himself on the grass in the shade and watched us. Knapp caught one very fine fish weighing over 9 lbs., while I caught only two small fish and a sharp attack of fever. I returned to camp and climbed into my blankets. In an hour and a half my temperature rose to 105°, and I felt very queer indeed; but towards evening I recovered sufficiently to eat a little. El Hakim and Kriger returned at 6 p.m., having explored the adjacent country to their satisfaction, and on their return journey they shot a zebra and a congoni. Zebra meat is excellent eating, especially if it has been hung for three or four days. When cooked it is firm and white, in appearance somewhat resembling veal. We always secured the strip of flesh on each side of the backbone, called by the Swahilis “salala” (saddle), and also the under-cut, or “salala n’dani” (inside saddle), for our private consumption. The kidneys are very large, as big as one’s fist; and they, as are also the brains, are excellent eating when fried in hippo fat.

We started at 7 a.m. on the following morning, El Hakim, Kriger, and Knapp going a long way ahead, leaving George and myself with the big mule, to look after the safari. George was still so queer that he could hardly sit on the mule. He was constantly vomiting, and at every fresh paroxysm the mule shied, so that poor George had anything but a cheerful time. I did not know the way, and depended wholly for guidance on the spoor of the others who had started early.

Soon after starting, a pair of rhinoceros charged us, scattering the safari far and wide over the plain in a medley of men, loads, donkeys, and cattle. I went back with the 8-bore, which I had kept close to me since my experience two days before, but before I could get near them they made off again, nearly getting foul of Jumbi in their retreat. He had hidden himself in the grass, and they passed within a dozen yards of him without becoming aware of his presence.

I have mentioned that I was depending for guidance on the spoor of that portion of the caravan which had preceded me, so it can be imagined that I was exceedingly surprised to come upon a party of the men who had left camp before me, sitting down waiting for me to come up. On being questioned they stated that the “m’sungu” (white men) were “huko m’beli” (somewhere ahead), but as they had lagged behind, and so lost them, they had waited for me to come up and show them the way. I was in something of a quandary, as, the ground being very rough and stony, no tracks were visible. After a moment’s consideration I decided to make for the north end of Doenyo Sabuk, which was quite near, as I knew the others intended going somewhere in that direction. On the road I stalked and shot a congoni, but my Swahili aristocrats refused to touch the meat, as I, and not they, had cut its throat, consequently it was “haran” (i.e. sinful, forbidden). They were much less fastidious later on, and ate with avidity far less palatable food than freshly killed congoni.

After a solid eight hours’ march I came up with the others. They had camped on the right bank of the Athi, which at this place is very broad and deep. It makes a vast curve here from due north to south-east, so that we were still on the wrong side of it, and would have to recross it in order to reach the Tana River. Kriger and Knapp were, as usual, fishing, and had caught some magnificent fish, averaging 9 lbs. to 10 lbs. each. On our arrival in camp, George and I had a refreshing wash and a cup of tea, which revived us considerably. In the evening I shot a crested crane (Belearica Pavonina) with the ·303. George went to bed early, as he was very weak and exhausted; I did not feel very bright either, after the smart attack of fever I had had the day before, coupled with that day’s eight-hour tramp in a blazing sun.

We did not move on the following day, as El Hakim wished to examine the surrounding country. He and Kriger accordingly saddled up the mules and made another excursion. They saw a leopard on the road about a mile out of camp, but the man who was carrying their guns was, unfortunately, some distance in the rear at the time. I believe El Hakim used bad language, but I could not say for certain, though I do know the gun-bearer looked very sorry for himself when they returned to camp in the evening. They saw some very pretty falls on the river lower down, situated in the midst of a very lovely stretch of park-like scenery. El Hakim was quite enthusiastic about them.

We spent the next day looking for a place to cross the river. It was from this camp that Kriger and Knapp were to return to their station, and our journey was really to begin. We examined a ford that Kriger knew of, two hours’ journey up the river, but found the river in flood and the ford deep water. On the way back El Hakim shot a congoni, which gave us a much-needed supply of fresh meat. As there seemed no other way out of the difficulty, we decided to build a raft. We found it a very tough task, there being no material at hand, as the wood growing near was all mimosa thorn, so hard and heavy when green that it will hardly float in water. We spent all the afternoon, waist-deep in the river, lashing logs together with strips of raw hide cut from the congoni skins. When the raft was finished, just before sundown, it looked very clumsy and unserviceable, and we had very grave doubts of its utility, as the volume of water in the river was very great, and the pressure on such an unwieldy structure was bound to be enormous—much more than any rope of ours would stand. However, that was a question that the morrow would decide; so we moored the raft to an island a few yards from the bank, and went back to camp for dinner.

We dined on the crane I had shot two days before. It was as large as a small turkey, and splendid eating, though my ·303 had rather damaged it. El Hakim and I sat up late into the night, making final arrangements and writing letters, which Kriger was to take back with him next morning, when we intended to make a determined effort to cross the river en route for Mount Kenia and the “beyond.”

Kriger and Knapp returned to Nairobi early on the morning of June 14th. They took our remaining cattle back, as we found them too much trouble, and El Hakim had others at Munithu, in North Kenia, which we could use if we required them for trade purposes. We bade them adieu, and they returned the compliment, wishing us all kinds of luck. They then departed on their homeward journey.

We found our raft waterlogged and almost entirely useless, but we determined to try what we could do with it. We had great difficulty in persuading the men to go into the water, but managed it at last, and got a rope across the river with which to haul the raft over. We put two loads on it, and though they were got safely across they were soaked through, and once or twice very nearly lost. When we tried to haul our raft back the rope parted, and the unholy contrivance we had spent so much time and labour upon drifted rapidly down-stream, and was lost to sight.

We abandoned the idea of crossing by raft—especially as there was then no raft to play with—and so we prospected up the river-bank for some little distance, and eventually discovered a place that promised a better crossing than any we had previously seen. There were two or three small islands near the hither bank of the river, which narrowed it to more manageable proportions, and by lunch-time we had rigged the rope across the main channel. After lunch we all stripped, and prepared for an afternoon’s hard work; nor were we disappointed. The stream, breast-deep, was running like a mill-race. Its bed was composed of flat slabs of granite polished to the smoothness of glass by the constant water-friction. Strewn here and there were smooth water-worn boulders with deep holes between, which made the crossing both difficult and dangerous. By dint of half wading and half swimming, holding on to the rope for safety, we managed with incredible labour to get all the loads across without accident.

Getting the mules and donkeys across was a still more difficult task. They absolutely refused to face the water, and had to be forced in. Once in, though, they did their best to get across. The mules and four of the donkeys succeeded after a severe struggle, but the other two donkeys were swept away down-stream. We were unwilling to lose them, so I swam down the river with them, trying to head them towards the opposite bank. I succeeded at last in forcing them under the bank a quarter of a mile or so lower down stream; but at that place it was perfectly perpendicular, and there we stood, the two donkeys and myself, up to our necks in water on a submerged ledge about two feet wide, on one side of us the swiftly rushing river, which none of us wished to face again, and on the other side a perfectly unclimbable bank, topped with dense jungle. I thought of crocodiles, as there were, and are, a great many in the Athi River, and I went cold all over, and wished most heartily that I was somewhere else. I shouted for the men, and presently heard their voices from the top of the bank overhead; they could not reach me, however, as the jungle was so thickly interlaced as to be impenetrable. They tried to cut a way down to me, but gave it up as impossible; besides, they could not have got the donkeys out that way, anyhow.

I grew more than a little anxious about the donkeys, as I was afraid they would lose heart and let themselves drown. Donkeys are like that sometimes when they are in difficulties. I clung to the ears of my two, and held their heads above water by main force. I got cold and chilled, while thoughts of crocodiles would come into my head. Once a submerged log drifted past beneath the surface, and in passing grazed my thigh. I turned actually sick with apprehension, but it went on with the current, and left me shivering as with ague. I ordered some of the men to get into the river and swim down to me, and presently they arrived. I immediately felt much better, as I reflected that my chances of being seized were now considerably lessened.

When I had got half a dozen men down, we took the donkeys by the ears and tails, and half towed, half pushed them up-stream against the current, and successfully landed them, though certainly they were more dead than alive.

I found that El Hakim and George had got the tents up, and that dinner was being prepared by the indefatigable Ramathani. I dried myself, and, putting on some clothing, went out in search of something edible in the way of meat. I saw no antelope, but I made a good shot with the ·303 at an adjutant stork (Leptoptilus marabou). The tail feathers, the Marabout feathers of commerce, were magnificent. This bird is a carrion-eater, and consorts with the vultures, so it was therefore not suitable for the pot. I cut off the large bag attached to the throat, in order to make a tobacco-pouch of it, but the dog sneaked it and, I believe, devoured it.

We sat down to dinner in the moonlight, all three of us thoroughly tired out, but pleased at having conquered the formidable Athi. Now, I had in my possession a box of particularly atrocious cigars, which I had bought in a hurry on the day we left Nairobi as a surprise for El Hakim and George. They were somebody’s “Morning whiffs.” As far as the others were concerned, the surprise was complete, but they surprised me also, though I was half expecting something out of the common.

I remember the first one I smoked that night. I remember it distinctly, though I would much rather forget it. We had just finished dinner, and were sitting at the table in semi-darkness. It was a beautiful evening. The stars shone brilliantly in the unclouded firmament, and the cool breeze softly played and whispered among the palms. The men were happy and contented, and all was peace and harmony. Suddenly remembering those cigars, I went into my tent and took three out of the box. I put two of them in my pocket for the others, and proceeded to light my own before going outside again. The first puff knocked me backwards, but I strove gallantly to recover my scattered faculties, and, dashing the tears from my eyes, made another attempt. It was hard work, but I persevered, though I admit I perspired freely. After a little practice I found that if I took a cautious draw or two, sandwiching deep long draughts of fresh air between each, I could manage to get along. Then I went outside and sat down at the table where El Hakim and George were quietly and happily conversing.

Presently George said, “Funny smell, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” El Hakim replied. “I have noticed it for the last two or three minutes. I hope those men have not set fire to the grass.”

“Have you noticed it?” said George to me.

“No, I can’t say I have,” I answered. “What is it like?”

“Great Scott! your nose must be out of order,” said George. “It reminds me of a brickfield. I wonder what it can be?”

“Oh, you fellows must be dreaming,” said I. “I can’t smell anything extraordinary.”

“Can’t you?” said El Hakim, turning in his chair to look at me. “Hullo! what are you smoking?” he added.

“A cigar, of course, and a jolly good one too,” said I, puffing away vigorously as a proof of my enjoyment, which very nearly proved my undoing. “Have one?”

El Hakim rose slowly to his feet, and gazed sorrowfully and reproachfully at me; then giving one or two distinctly audible sniffs, he walked slowly to the edge of the camp and gazed silently over the plains, followed a moment later by George, who made some almost unintelligible remark about “he could stand a good deal, but that——” and, shuddering visibly, he too vanished.

I threw the remains of the cigar into the river, where it probably continued its nefarious career, doubtless doing a lot of harm. George, with a lofty disregard of my feelings, euphoniously christened them “stinkers,” and neither he nor El Hakim could ever be persuaded to smoke one.

I got hardened to them in time, but I only smoked them on special occasions or in default of anything better. I used to smoke them after George and I had turned in for the night. It did not matter whether George was asleep or not; after the first half-dozen puffs he would turn over in his blankets, and, giving vent to a resigned and massive sigh, get up, and, uttering no word the while, he would with great ostentation and an unnecessary amount of noise, open the tent-flaps at each end, thus letting a fierce draught through. He would then go back to bed again, and shiver violently with the cold, and cough pathetic little coughs, till in sheer self-defence I would discontinue smoking and close the tent, but I would have my revenge in the morning while we were dressing, as I would then relight the end left from overnight. George said the smell took away his appetite for breakfast, but that must have been mere vulgar prejudice, as I never noticed anything wrong with his appetite.

We were off again next morning, and in two hours reached the Thika-Thika, the next considerable river on our route. It was the inhabitants of the country adjacent to this river about whom we were warned in Nairobi; but, in consequence of our détour north-eastward to Doenyo Sabuk, we struck the river much lower down than the presumably hostile districts.

It was a rather narrow but deep stream, full of water, with a very swift and powerful current. We could not find a crossing-place, so we tried to bridge the stream at the cataracts which we discovered lower down, at which place the channel narrowed to something like twenty yards. There was a large tree standing on the bank, and we cut it down in the hope that it would fall across the river. It was a long and tiresome task, and somehow the tree fell the wrong way; so we thought we would not built a bridge, after all. We then went higher up the river, and at one place found two dead logs, which we lashed together to form a raft. The raft completed, we called for a volunteer to take the line across. As Asmani ben Selim was a good swimmer, we ordered him to volunteer. He did so, and got the line across without accident. He then hauled the raft across with another line attached, by which we were enabled to haul it back again, and then, having satisfactorily demonstrated the practicability of our idea, we adjourned for lunch.

After the meal we went down to the river again, and amused ourselves all the afternoon by pulling the raft to and fro across the river with two loads on at a time. We had all the loads safely across by five o’clock in the afternoon, and then proceeded to get the men across by the same means. Some of them had not sense enough to sit still, and on three separate occasions they managed to upset the unstable craft in midstream, and were hauled across clinging to the overturned raft, feeling very miserable indeed, which feeling was in no way alleviated by the gibes of their more fortunate companions who had got across without accident.

It was dark by the time the last man had crossed, and the animals were still on the wrong side of the river. We accordingly camped on the bank, and sent a guard of three men back again to look after them during the night.

At daylight next morning we proceeded to get the animals across by the simple expedient of tying one end of the rope round their necks, when a team of a dozen men on the opposite bank of the river soon hauled them, kicking and struggling, across. I admit that they made the passage for the most part under water; but still, there was no other way, and the objections of the animals themselves, though very strenuous, did not count for much.

That business concluded, we struck camp and continued our march. We followed no road, and, being without a guide, we travelled by compass in a north-easterly direction. By so doing we hoped to strike the upper waters of the Tana River at Maranga. We saw great numbers of antelope on the road, and there were also numerous herds of zebra and brindled gnu (Connochactus taurinus). We were in want of meat, but the game was very shy, and while stalking a herd of zebra I had the ill luck to startle them somehow, and they went off at a gallop. I took a long shot—200 yards—at the leader of the herd, and, as luck would have it, brought him down.

We went on till 10 a.m., when we halted for breakfast, and did ourselves very well on grilled zebra liver. We made a “Telekesa” march (i.e. a march resumed after a short halt for refreshment), usually necessary in localities where water is scarce and water-holes long distances apart—so by soon after midday we were on the move again.

The country was now getting very nasty. We could see low ranges of steep hills ahead that promised to be very inconvenient. At dusk we ascended the outlying spurs, finding it very hard work, and soon after we camped for the night. I shot a congoni during the afternoon, which kept us in fresh meat for a day or two. That the estimate we had formed of the natural difficulties to be encountered was a correct one, we had many opportunities of verifying during the next two days. It was a perfectly horrible piece of country. It seemed to be a collection of rocky hills thrown down just anyhow, without the slightest regard for order. Long coarse grass and rank vegetation did their very best to impede our progress. We were retarded every half mile or so by steep descents, down which we toiled slowly and painfully, only to find a roaring rushing torrent at the bottom, that needed the most careful negotiation. Our poor donkeys suffered very much by the constant loading and unloading of their burdens, rendered necessary in order to cross some particularly obnoxious ravine, while the men’s patience was severely tried.

In the early morning it was still worse, as the dense undergrowth was then soaked through with the heavy dew, which descended on us in icy showers as we forced our way through, thus adding to our other miseries. There was no game to speak of. I shot one solitary congoni at our first camp in this uninhabited wilderness, and on the same day we inadvertently walked on to a sleeping rhinoceros, which livened things up a little.

El Hakim was riding at the head of the safari, and George, on the other mule, was close behind him. I was walking a few yards behind George. Suddenly I saw El Hakim stiffen in his seat and kick his feet free of the stirrup-irons; a fraction of a second later he was out of the saddle and behind a bush, while George emulated his example with a promptitude that could only have been rendered possible by the most urgent necessity, George being, as a rule, extremely deliberate in his movements, as befits a heavy man. At the same instant, with a rush and a snort, a large black rhinoceros galloped blindly at us. I took up an unobtrusive position behind an adjacent tree, with as little delay as possible consistent with my dignity, and the rhinoceros rushed past and disappeared. It appeared annoyed at being disturbed.

On the afternoon of the third day after leaving the Thika-Thika we got into some very dense scrub, and fairly lost ourselves. The bush was absolutely impenetrable, except for the low tunnels made by wandering hippopotamus, which indicated the presence of water not far off. These tunnels gave the scrub the appearance of a gigantic rabbit-warren, in which we had to walk bent double in order to make any headway at all. It was exceedingly hot and dusty, and we plunged about in the bewildering maze of tunnels till we were tired out, while seemingly no nearer to the opposite side. Presently the tunnel in which we were burrowing at the moment abruptly dipped downwards, and a few yards further on we emerged unexpectedly on the edge of a broad and noble river, which flowed swiftly and serenely past our delighted eyes.

We had no doubt that this was the Tana which we had not expected to reach for another day at least; a surmise which proved to be correct. It is called here the Sagana, or more rarely the Kilaluma (i.e. firewater). It is a very beautiful river, with very high perpendicular banks clothed in the most lovely verdure. Tall water-palms (Raffia sp.?) reared their stately heads far above the surrounding luxuriant vegetation; while tropical trees of many species formed a playground for troops of monkeys. Birds of brilliant plumage darted hither and thither like diminutive rainbows, and completed as charming a picture of tropical beauty as could be found in Africa.

The river itself was about eighty yards broad, and very deep, with a four-miles-an-hour current. We had struck it at a point about two days’ march above the Carl Alexander and Sweinfurth Falls. It is full of hippopotamus. George shot at one in the water, but it sank immediately and disappeared from view.

Our men skirmished round, and discovered a small clearing, in which we camped. Some of the Wakamba porters informed us that farther up the river there was a bridge, and beyond that the “shambas” (plantations) of the A’kikuyu. We were rather sceptical about the bridge, as they used the word “dirage,” which is the Swahili word used by the Wakamba either for a bridge, a boat or raft, or a ford, though the Swahilis themselves have separate and distinct words for each.

We ascertained one fact. A large river, called the Maragua, joined the Sagana two hours’ march up-stream, and we should have a much better chance of a successful crossing if we crossed before the Maragua joined forces with the already swollen Sagana, though such a course necessitated crossing two rivers instead of one.

Early next day we set off up-stream in a westerly direction. Travelling was like an excursion over the roofs of a row of houses. The jungle was very dense everywhere, and we were also in constant danger from the numerous hippopotamus-traps which had been set by the natives, who sometimes hunt this side of the river. These traps consisted of a heavy log of wood, probably thorn, about 18 inches long and 9 inches in diameter, with an iron blade 8 inches long firmly set in one end. This was suspended blade downwards over the centre of the path, and connected with a cord stretched across the path an inch or so above the ground. When the unsuspecting hippopotamus passed that way it kicked the cord, thereby releasing a catch, and down dropped the heavy log, armed with its keen blade, into the unfortunate victim’s back, usually severing the spine. We had to keep a very sharp look-out for these traps, sending men ahead of the safari to search for them and release the suspended log before we passed.

We lost sight of the Sagana altogether in an hour or so, as here it makes a big curve to the north before flowing down again to the Mumoni hills. We reached the Maragua in due course, and found that our men’s information was correct, and that there was a genuine bridge. I discovered later that it was built by Gibbons on his ill-fated journey to M’bu. It was very well built, some small islands in the channel being utilized as piers, upon which were laid the straight stems of the water-palm which was growing at hand in great profusion, and answered the purpose excellently. It was, however, partly destroyed by fire, and required great care in crossing. We could not trust the animals on it, so we had to fall back on our rope, and haul them across a little higher up the river, where the water was deeper and the current consequently less violent.

Just below the bridge were a series of magnificent cascades, which filled the air for a long distance round with their stupendous roar. As we intended making another march that day, we went on again after a short halt. The men had had no food for three days, except the remains of the insignificant quantity of meat I shot a few days before. We were therefore anxious to reach the cultivated country in order to buy fresh supplies for them.

After a weary walk from eleven in the morning to four in the afternoon, we were relieved to find ourselves among the shambas of the natives. We camped beside a small stream close to a village, and immediately opened a market, and when the natives appeared we bought a small supply of maize and sweet potatoes, which were at once served out to our hungry men.