THE AUTHOR MAKING BLOOD-BROTHERHOOD WITH KARAMA.
THE “GREEN CAMP.” (See page [162].)
After two hours’ toiling we found ourselves on the edge of the tableland looking down a sharp declivity to the plain beneath, which stretched out in desolate barrenness as far as the eye could reach. It was a dreary khaki-coloured landscape, with peculiarly shaped hills in the extreme background. In the middle distance were belts of dusty-looking thorn trees, while here and there mounds of broken lava reared up their ugly masses to add to the general air of desolation. Somewhere ahead of us, about four days’ march, was the Waso Nyiro; and beyond that lay the desert again, stretching away up towards Lakes Rudolph and Stephanie, and thence onward to the hills of Abyssinia and Somaliland. The country we should have to cross in order to reach the Waso Nyiro was, as far as we knew, waterless, with the exception of one tiny brook, which flowed northward from M’thara, probably emptying itself into the Waso Nyiro. We followed it, therefore, in all its multitudinous windings, as, without it, we should have been in a sorry plight indeed.
As we descended to the plain the heat appreciably increased. We met several rhinoceros on the road, but we discreetly left them to their meditations. Apparently there had once been grass on the plain, but it had been burnt, and during the passage of our safari a fine, choking black dust arose, which, in combination with the dust from the dry red soil, formed a horrible compound that choked up our ears, eyes, noses, and throats in a most uncomfortable manner. For four hours we marched, and then camped on the banks of the stream.
Innumerable rhino tracks crossed in every direction, leading us to suppose that we were camped at the place where the brutes usually drank. George, hearing the shrill cries of some guinea-fowl from the opposite bank, sallied forth with the shot-gun, and soon the sound of many shots in quick succession showed that his energy was reaping its reward. He returned presently with eight birds, which were a very welcome addition to our larder.
We turned in early. During the night I was awakened by the sound of torrents of rain beating down on the tent. I rose and looked cautiously out. A noise from El Hakim’s tent at once attracted my attention, and gazing in that direction I saw El Hakim himself, clad only in a diminutive shirt, busily engaged in placing the ground-sheet of his tent over the stacked loads. He was getting splashed considerably. I did not disturb him, but retired once more to my blankets, perfectly satisfied that the loads were being properly looked after.
In the morning the sky was as clear as crystal, while the parched earth showed no traces of the heavy shower that had fallen during the night. We travelled over the same kind of country as that traversed the day before, dry brown earth, burnt grass, and loose stones being the most noticeable features, if I except the ubiquitous rhinoceros, of which truly there were more than “a genteel sufficiency.” In fact, they proved a terrible nuisance, as we had sometimes to make long détours in order to avoid them. They were not only capable of doing so, but seemed only too anxious to upset our safari. The men were mortally afraid of them, and much preferred their room to their company.
After a couple of hours on the road we saw in the distance a large swamp, which we had not previously noticed, surrounded for a radius of a mile or so by thorn-bush, which grew a great deal thicker than on other parts of the plain. The quantity of game we saw on the road was simply incredible. Vast herds of oryx, zebra, and grantei, roamed over the landscape; ostriches and giraffes were also in sight, and, of course, rhinoceros. It is a sportsman’s paradise, and as yet, with one or two exceptions, untouched.
When we reached the swamp the safari was halted to allow the stragglers to come up. While waiting I saw something sticking out of the grass a hundred yards away, to which I called El Hakim’s attention. He observed it attentively through the binoculars for a moment, and then turned to me with an exclamation of satisfaction, softly observing, “Buffaloes, lying down.” Taking his ·450 express, and motioning the few men with us to be silent, he started to stalk them, followed by myself with the Martini rifle. We crawled down very cautiously to leeward, and after half an hour’s careful stalking, during which we advanced only fifty yards, we ensconced ourselves in a favourable position in the reeds fringing the swamp. We were considering the advisability of a further advance, when our fools of men who had been in the rear reached the spot where we left the others, and on learning that a whole herd of the dreaded “mbogo” (buffalo) were in such close proximity, promptly climbed the adjacent trees, from which safe and elevated position they carried on an animated discourse on the merits of buffalo meat as an article of diet. As a consequence we had the mortification of seeing the old bull prick up his ears and listen, then slowly rise and sniff the air. The indications were apparently unsatisfactory, for the whole herd rose slowly to their feet, and, after a preliminary sniff, moved slowly off over a rise in the ground, and out of range. Words would not express our feelings!