Returning to the spot where we had lunched, we resumed the march, going another mile down the river before camping. When the tents were pitched, Ramathani busied himself in cooking our unpalatable meal of grantei-steak fried in an insufficiency of fat. Soon afterwards we heard an excited shriek of “Afreet! afreet!” (Devil, devil) from Ramathani and some of the other men near him. He rushed up to me and implored me to bring my “bunduki ya n’dege” (literally, “bird-gun”) and slay the “afreet.” I laughingly inquired where the “afreet” was, and he pointed upwards into the branches of a large tree, whose branches spread laterally over the fire at which he was cooking. I could not see anything, and was about to turn away, ridiculing him; but the men appeared so genuinely terror-stricken that I paused and looked up again. Judge of my surprise when I discovered that the “afreet” was nothing more than a large water-lizard stretched out on a branch. A dose of No. 6 shot on the side of the head brought it down with a thump on the ground. Examination showed that none of my shot had penetrated its skull or body, it being merely stunned by the shock. None of the men could be induced to touch it under any pretext whatever, saying that it was highly poisonous, and its bite meant instant death; so, seizing it by the tail, I carried it over to our table. It woke up while I was carrying it, and, squirming upwards, attempted to bite me, causing me to drop it hurriedly, to the intense amusement of the men. I killed and dissected it. Its heart beat for quite half an hour after I had removed it from the body. The reptile was four feet in length, and over a foot in girth.
The next morning we divided the men into small parties and sent them out to search the surrounding country for inhabitants, while I climbed a hill near the camp and minutely examined, with the binoculars, the whole country round; but in vain. There was no sign of any inhabitants; the country seeming to be deserted by man and beast alike, and lay under the scorching sun “the abomination of desolation.”
I returned to camp at midday, the search parties returning at the same time reporting that they had seen no signs of the Rendili nor indeed traces of anybody whatsoever. We therefore resumed our march down the river at half-past two in the afternoon. The vegetation had almost disappeared, with the exception that along the river-banks a few rows of thorn trees here and there indicated the position of lines of depression in the earth’s surface, probably the beds of sand rivers; the rest of the country was strewn with stony débris which converted a march into a painful and difficult pilgrimage.
At sundown we pitched the tents, but found that it was impossible to drive the pegs into the rocky ground, so the guy ropes had to be made fast to huge boulders collected and piled for the purpose. To add to our discomfort, a strong cold wind sprang up as the sun set, and blew great guns all night, the tents thrashing and thundering in a way that precluded sleep, and threatened every moment to blow bodily away. Firewood also was scarce, and the men spent a most miserable night in consequence. The two Rendili sheep, which we had been keeping for our own consumption, escaped during the night, and we never saw them again. We did not linger long in that inhospitable spot, but at sunrise again resumed our weary march down-stream.
Game was absolutely non-existent, and the men, having finished the last of the rhinoceros, were in great need of food. Where it was to be obtained we could not imagine, unless we were to kill one or two of our cattle, which we were very loth to do, except as a very last resource.
After a solid four hours’ march we camped on the river-bank under a clump of palms, and determined on the morrow to make one last effort to find the Rendili by means of search parties, and then, if there were still no signs of them, to make the best of our way back to the game country by forced marches.
The animals were sadly out of condition for want of proper and sufficient nourishment, and we were afraid that if we went further and were still unsuccessful in our search, they would all die before we could get back. “It is a long lane that has no turning,” however, and about four o’clock in the afternoon one of the men, whom we had sent out to look for game, came into camp, shouting excitedly that he had seen “many people.” El Hakim and George at once saddled up the mules and investigated. The “many people” turned out to be eighty of the Somalis’ men, bound for Dhaicho (a trading settlement on the eastern side of Embe) in order to buy food. Most important of all, they told us that Ismail, with the main body, was camped among the Rendili, who were five days’ march further down the river. This news cheered us up wonderfully. Resting our men for the remainder of the day, we were on our way again on the following morning long before daylight, led by a guide lent us by the Somalis. We pushed forward as fast as our men could travel, and we had every reason for haste, as they were entirely without food. We halted at ten o’clock in the forenoon for breakfast. At least we breakfasted, the men having nothing to eat at all, while we had little more. At two o’clock we were again on the road, and at four o’clock camped for the night, the men being exhausted. Jumbi, and Malwa, the head-man of the Wa’kamba, did not come in with the others. Inquiries elicited the fact that, owing to either Jumbi’s or Malwa’s carelessness, the five camels had strayed on the road and were lost. El Hakim was very much annoyed, as he had always been very proud of his camels, nursing them tenderly, and taking great pains to ensure their health and comfort.
The next morning the camels had not turned up, neither had Jumbi nor Malwa. El Hakim, being eager to reach the Rendili encampment, pushed on with nothing but his tent and a little food, leaving George and me behind with the bulk of the safari to send search parties out after the camels. At eleven o’clock Jumbi and Malwa came into camp without the camels. They were very frightened, rightly dreading El Hakim’s anger, and were considerably relieved when they found only George and me in camp. At that moment some of the men, whom we had despatched earlier in the morning in search of the missing animals, came in and reported that they had seen the tracks of the camels leading away to the south straight towards the hills, some days’ journey distant, which proved to be the extreme north-eastern end of the Jombeni range, inhabited by our bêtes noires the Wa’embe. I immediately despatched Jumbi and Malwa, together with the men who had seen the tracks, to follow them up, instructing them to find the camels if possible, but if not, to return and follow me, as I was going on after El Hakim. After they had rested awhile they departed on their errand, and at two o’clock in the afternoon, George and I, having forded the river—which was quite easily done, as it was very broad and came no higher than one’s middle—marched steadily and rapidly down the north bank of the river in El Hakim’s wake. We marched for four hours, passing the falls discovered by and named after Mr. Chanler, an hour after starting. The vegetation was now somewhat more dense, the wait-a-bit thorn becoming quite inconveniently frequent; the country also tended to become gravelly underfoot, and the very reverse of level.
Late in the afternoon we arrived at a range of rocky hills some three or four hundred feet in height, which extended for some miles at right angles to the river, and consequently right across our path. So far we had seen no signs of El Hakim, so I decided to push on at all costs, and with great difficulty we climbed to the summit of the range.
When we reached the top a beautiful and welcome sight met our weary eyes. Away to the right, curving round the end of the range, ran the dark green line of the Waso Nyiro. A day’s march further on it branched out into numerous broad shallow channels, spreading over a tract of country perhaps ten miles long and four miles wide. Innumerable Doum palms covered this tract with a beautiful mass of greenery, interspersed with patches of pure white sand. Immediately outside the palm region the country changed sharply to desert again, which stretched dazzlingly white and perfectly level to the encircling horizon. I had no doubt but that we should find the Rendili encamped near the palms. The river emerged from the other side of this fertile tract, and winding round the southern spur of a vast and lofty tableland, which showed dimly in the distance, disappeared from view on its way to the mysterious and unexplored “Lorian.” The plateau I recognized as the Marisi el Lugwazambo. It can be imagined with what joyful emotions we gazed on the mass of vivid green spread at our feet, after so many scorching days of brown earth and bare rock. I could quite realize the sensations of Moses as he gazed on the “Promised Land” from the summit of Mount Pisgah.