We unloaded the donkeys, and tried to rake out something eatable, but failed, as there was nothing cooked. At two o’clock in the afternoon we were still waiting. At that hour one of Bei-Munithu’s men came into camp with the information that the fossil and his friends had run away again, taking the two tusks with them. El Hakim exploded at this aggravating news. He sent for Bei-Munithu once more, and fairly made the old reprobate shake with fear, though, as far as we knew, it was no fault of his.
“Go at once,” cried El Hakim, “and tell these people that I have waited two days on their account. I will wait no longer. If they do not bring that ivory within two hours, I will come and burn their villages and destroy their plantations to the last muhindi stalk.”
Bei-Munithu became greatly agitated, and implored El Hakim to have a little patience while he himself went to see the fossil and his friends, in order that he might try to convince them of the error of their ways.
He returned late in the afternoon, accompanied by the fossil and the other two ancients, with whom we had bargained, bringing with them the two tusks. We gave them a piece of our minds and the price agreed upon, and allowed them as a special favour to pick their three ewes, a proceeding which occupied the greater part of another hour.
The tusks were only medium specimens, weighing 90 lbs. the pair. We thanked Bei-Munithu for his efforts on our behalf, although we had more than a shrewd suspicion that he had caused the whole delay from first to last, though for what purpose we could not be very certain.
It was very late in the day when we eventually started for Mathara, and there seemed very little hope of reaching it that night, though we determined to try, notwithstanding our many loads and our miscellaneous collection of cattle, sheep, goats, and loaded donkeys, all of which seemed to have contracted a malignant type of perverseness, inasmuch as they would not keep to the path, needing constant care and watchfulness and frequent halts in order to recover stragglers. Fortunately, Dirito and one of his tribesmen volunteered to accompany us and “chunga” (drive) the animals, an offer which we gladly accepted.
We made fair progress until we reached the strip of forest described in the account of our first march to Karanjui, on the borders of which we arrived just before dusk. We were joined there by Viseli, one of the head-men of Chanjai, and one of his people, who proceeded to assist Dirito in driving the animals. In this manner we reached Karanjui, and El Hakim proposed that we should camp there. I was averse to such a plan, however, remembering George’s note, so we pushed on.
Traversing the further belt of forest, we crawled out into the open plain which stretches away to Mathara. The sun had already set, and the wind became bitterly cold. The porters were tired and beginning to straggle, but as there was no water nearer than a stream an hour’s march on the hither side of our own camp, we had no choice but to proceed in spite of the darkness. On we went, Dirito and Viseli with the tired animals keeping close to us, while the porters were strung out in an irregular line in the rear. It grew pitch dark, and a cold wind, increasing in violence, nearly froze us.
Hour after hour we pursued our hopeless way in the blackness of the night, until somewhere about 8 p.m., when we reached the small stream. It was useless going any further, so we camped. We called for the tent to be pitched and firewood brought, but to our surprise met with no response. We could not understand it. We called again, but beyond Dirito and Viseli and their two henchmen with the animals, there were not more than three or four men with us, and they were carrying loads of cloth. The others were scattered somewhere in the darkness along the path by which we had come. We were in a nice predicament, our small party being perched on a bare, bleak hillside, exposed to the full fury of the icy blast without a tent, a blanket, or a thing to eat, though nothing had passed our lips since our hasty meal at daylight that morning. However, there was nothing to do but to make the best of it, so we ordered a large fire to be made, to try to mitigate in some degree the freezing horror of the icy gale. Another disappointment awaited us; there was absolutely no firewood to be had. Our few men searched diligently for an hour, and brought back two or three handfuls of brushwood, which by dint of a wasteful expenditure of matches, coupled with no small amount of profanity, were transformed into a puny apology for a fire.
Presently, to our great joy, we heard shouts from the other side of the stream, and soon we had the satisfaction of beholding a small body of our porters approaching. We eagerly examined their loads, but alas! they consisted, of course, of brass and iron wire, and, by the irony of fate, one load of cooking and table utensils.