El Hakim was at Kriger’s place, about a mile distant. We had to wait two or three days till he was ready to start, as he had a lot of private business to transact. We left all the cattle except nine behind, under Kriger’s charge; we sent the nine back subsequently, as we found they were more trouble than they were worth.
In the evening I went out to shoot guinea-fowl; at least, I intended to shoot guinea-fowl, but unfortunately I saw none. I lost myself in the darkness, and could not find my way back to camp. After wandering about for some time, I at last spied the flare of the camp fires, halfway up a slope a mile away, opposite to that on which I stood. I made towards them, entirely forgetting the small river that flowed at the foot of the slope. It was most unpleasantly recalled to my memory as I suddenly stepped off the bank and plunged, with a splash, waist deep into the icy water. Ugh!
I scrambled up the opposite bank, and reached the camp safely, though feeling very sorry for myself. El Hakim and George thought it a good joke. I thought they had a very low sense of humour.
On the following morning George and I sallied forth on sport intent. George carried the shot-gun, and I the ·303. We saw no birds; but after an arduous stalk, creeping on all fours through long, wet grass, I secured a congoni. Congoni is the local name for the hartebeeste (Bubalis Cokei). The meat was excellent, and much appreciated. El Hakim joined us in the afternoon, accompanied by Mr. Kriger and Mr. and Mrs. Knapp, who wished to inspect our camp. We did the honours with the greatest zest, knowing it would be the last time for many months that we should see any of our own race.
The day afterwards El Hakim and I rode into Nairobi, accompanied by some of the men, and brought back twelve days’ rations of m’chele (rice) for our safari, as we intended starting the following day. Kriger and Knapp decided to come with us on a little pleasure trip as far as Doenyo Sabuk, a bold, rounded prominence, rising some 800 feet above the level of the plain, the summit being over 6000 feet above sea-level, lying about four days’ journey to the north.
CHAPTER II.
FROM KRIGER’S TO MARANGA.
Oil to Doenyo Sabuk—Troubles of a safari—George takes a bath—The Nairobi Falls—Eaten by ticks—My argument with a rhinoceros—The Athi River—Good fishing—Lions—Camp near Doenyo Sabuk—We find the Athi in flood—We build a raft—Kriger and Knapp bid us adieu—Failure of our raft—We cross the Athi—I open a box of cigars—Crossing the Thika-Thika—Bad country—We unexpectedly reach the Tana—The détour to the Maragua—Crossing the Maragua—In Kikuyuland.
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.”