On August 30th, therefore, we made a start, taking with us only a dozen men, and leaving Jumbi and the bulk of the men in charge of our camp, with instructions to continue buying sheep. The tents were left behind with most of our other impedimenta, as we intended travelling as lightly as possible. We took with us merely a blanket or two, the necessary culinary utensils, my camera, some spare ammunition, and a change of clothing apiece.
On leaving camp we skirted the north bank of the Waso Nyiro for some miles, deviously threading our way among the palm trees. It was a glorious excursion, this tramp through the cool dark glades beneath the palms, where the remnants of the bright sunshine which filtered through the leafy canopy overhead gave the scene the appearance of the interior of a vast cathedral dimly illuminated by rays of sunshine through stained glass windows. The effect was heightened by the occasional glimpses between the palm trunks of the smooth shining surface of the river, over which numbers of brilliantly coloured kingfishers darted to and fro like the falling fragments of a shattered rainbow.
Presently we emerged on the river-bank at a likely looking spot for a crossing. As we did so, a sliding, slipping sound, followed by a dull splash, warned us of the presence of crocodiles, and an examination of the bank showed us that three or four of the loathsome reptiles had been basking in the sun at that very spot. The tracks were, however, those of comparatively small ones, probably not more than six or eight feet long. Across the river several others of about the same size, as yet unaware of our presence, were basking on the sandbanks. The noise made by the porters soon roused them, and they also disappeared, with a wriggle and a flop, beneath the swirling stream. The river not being very deep, scarcely four feet at the deepest part, we entered the water and waded across, the men shouting and splashing with great vigour, while casting many a sidelong glance at the turbid current. Once across, our search for Lorian had commenced in good earnest, and setting our faces to the eastward, we strode forward on a course parallel to the south bank of the river.
An hour later we saw a herd of zebra, and George and I, after a long and careful stalk, secured four. They were in prime condition, and very plump, yet, strange to say, the country appeared to produce nothing more nourishing than occasional clumps of coarse grass, or rather straw, as it was burnt yellow by the fierce rays of the sun. These four zebras were a veritable windfall, as they not only enabled the men who accompanied us to lay in a few days’ supply for our journey down the river, but by sending a messenger back to Jumbi he was enabled to send for the remainder, which was sufficient to feed the men remaining in camp for some days.
We camped on the river-bank, which we had some difficulty in regaining, having to cut our way with knives and axes through the densely interlaced bush and creepers which fringed the water’s edge. The weather was delightful, though the heat in the open was terrific, this camp being situated within one degree of the equator, and not more than one thousand two hundred feet above sea-level.
On starting the following morning we found that the river curved away to the northward, rounding the easterly spur of the Zambo Plateau. As we proceeded, the luxuriant tropical vegetation gave way to scattered acacias and patches of burnt-up elephant grass. The soil underfoot also changed in character, the rocky outcrops and boulders of quartz and gneiss almost entirely disappearing. In their place were vast stretches of smooth shining sand, alternated with patches of loose brown earth, as soft and crumbly as starch, which made travelling a matter of great toil and difficulty. Game was very plentiful. I shot a grantei during the morning, and when we halted for lunch I secured three water-buck.
After we had eaten and rested awhile we resumed the march. The aspect of the country grew worse and worse. The brown crumbling soil gave way under our feet; it seemed so rotten that it was unable to bear our weight, and at every step we sank into it over our knees, our passage raising a brown impalpable dust which choked our eyes, ears, and nostrils in a most uncomfortable and disconcerting manner. The mules suffered even more than ourselves. It was impossible to ride them, as at every stride they sank up to their hocks in the rotten earth, and floundered about in a most pitiful and distressing manner. The sand, which seemed so smooth and firm on the surface, was also honeycombed underneath by some agency or other. I had a nasty fall from this cause during the afternoon’s march. I was riding the big mule, when the sand suddenly collapsed under her forefeet and she went down on her chest, afterwards rolling over on my leg, pinning me to the ground. In her struggles she kicked me in the side several times, inflicting severe bruises. Ramathani secured her head, and I was pulled from under her, feeling badly shaken and very faint. The mule then broke away and raced across country, kicking her heels in the air in delighted freedom. She was not caught for over an hour, during which I had to stumble along in the burning sun as best I could, with my head spinning like a top, and my temper considerably above the boiling-point. We concluded a weary march by sundown, and again camped under the palms on the river-bank.
These palms formed a home for large troops of baboons and little monkeys, who chattered unceasingly. After our meagre meal of fried meat we retired. The moon was in the first quarter and shed a little light after the sun had set, and we laid back in our blankets and, gazing up at the palms, spent an hour or so in desultory conversation, or perhaps discussing our route for the morrow. As the sun set the night-birds appeared, and tuned up, preparatory to their usual concert, lasting from sunset to sunrise. One bird in particular went regularly up and down the scale, starting from D, and mounting by leaps and bounds over a couple of octaves, descended again. This performance was repeated with maddening insistency during the greater part of the night.
At sunrise on the morning of September 1st we were again on the road. We saw several herds of water-buck on the banks of the Waso Nyiro, but they were very shy and most difficult to approach. The river ran in a direction almost due north. The further we followed it to the north and east the scarcer became the vegetation. Rhinoceros became once more unpleasantly numerous, and during that morning’s march we dodged several who at one time bade fair to disperse our little company. I suppose that they have their uses, though they are inconvenient at times. I know of nothing better for livening up the monotony of an otherwise uninteresting march, than a crusty old rhino who has just been roused from a refreshing nap. A lion does not create half so much excitement. El Hakim and George had to bestir themselves on one occasion during the morning, in order to prevent accident. It was in this wise. I was marching ahead, and contemplating as I went the manifold beauties of nature. A few yards behind me rode in silence El Hakim and George, also contemplating the beauties of nature—or were they thinking of the approach of lunch time? Anyhow, we were some few hundred yards ahead of the men when an agonized yell from Ramathani, who was in the rear, caused us to look round. There, not forty yards away, were two rhinoceros, a mother and a half-grown young one, coming straight for us with speedy but noiseless footsteps. I instantly took up a strategic position on the opposite side of an adjacent bush, and became an interested spectator, taking the precaution, however, to slip a cartridge into my rifle in case it should be needed. El Hakim and George dismounted with such rapidity that they almost seemed to fall off. Letting go the mules, who dashed away at full speed, they also selected a bush from which to view the procession, both of them being unarmed. The rhinos were by that time hardly half a dozen yards behind them, and scarcely had they slipped behind their respective bushes when the brutes charged right between us and went on. Not twenty seconds could have elapsed from the time Ramathani’s warning shout reached us to the time the rhinos passed, but to us it seemed nearer twenty minutes. I give this instance—one of many—to show how pleasantly one is kept on the qui vive in the districts where the rhinoceros abounds, be the landscape ever so monotonous, or the march ever so weary.
After a march lasting from sunrise till ten o’clock in the forenoon we halted for breakfast, or lunch, as we variously called our first meal, according to the time of day at which we made our halt. The continuous meat diet was getting very monotonous and unpalatable, chiefly owing to the absence of sufficient fat for cooking purposes. Our tobacco, of which, owing to some inadvertence on our departure from the Rendili camp, we had brought only a very small supply, gave out on this day, and we were thus deprived of another solace in the midst of the trials and difficulties of the journey.