Once or twice we caught a glimpse of Kenia far away to the southward. It seemed like an old friend, and its appearance was always greeted with a cheer from the men, followed by a spasmodic burst of energy, for, resettling their loads on their shoulders, they would step out with renewed vigour, as if anxious to reach it at once, but after a few minutes their suddenly awakened enthusiasm would vanish, and they would relapse once more into the listless but steady gait of men wearied by continuous travel.
The appearance of Kenia at that distance was grand beyond the power of expression. The wonderful peak, crowned with patches of purest white snow, sparkled like an immense diamond in the brilliant sunshine, an effect further accentuated by the perfect background afforded by the deep clear blue of a cloudless sky. Even were I gifted with the pen of a poet or the brush of an artist, I should hesitate in the attempt to adequately depict that magnificent temple of nature, rearing its stately head heavenwards, and bearing a silent and convincing testimony to the glory of the Creator.
On October 3rd we crossed the Waso Nyiro once more. Game was still scarce, an occasional water-buck or rhinoceros forming our only sustenance. Even that limited selection failed us at times, and we were compelled to kill some of our cattle for meat. We yearned for vegetable food, as only those who have lived for the best part of two months exclusively on meat, without salt, can yearn. The monotony of boiled meat, roast meat, fried meat, and boiled meat again, must be experienced to be fully understood.
Two days after crossing the river we passed our old “Swamp Camp,” where the midges so annoyed us. We made a “telekesa” march on that day, however, and our second march took us beyond the swamp. We camped at sundown on a spot very close to the river—only a few yards from the water’s edge, in fact. We disturbed a pack of wild dogs in so doing, and they dashed off with the speed of greyhounds. George banged at them and wounded one, but it got away, though it was very probably devoured by the rest of the pack soon afterwards. They were jet black in colour, with long bushy tails tipped with white. They appeared to be very well-formed, speedy animals, and in the pink of condition.
As usual we built a boma for the sheep, and George and I had our tent pitched, but El Hakim preferred to sleep in the open, so his bed was placed a yard or so away from our tent. After we had eaten we retired to rest, posting a sentry a few yards away. At about 2 a.m. George and I were aroused from sleep, and considerably startled, by a yell from El Hakim, followed by a rushing sound as the sheep broke down their boma and stampeded, amid the excited shouts of the awakened men. Rushing out of our tent, we saw El Hakim, rifle in hand, peering into the darkness on the left, the tails of his shirt, his only garment, fluttering in the breeze. It appeared that he was peacefully sleeping and doubtless dreaming of home and beauty, or maybe of the two boxes of provisions we had left at M’thara, when an agonized whisper from the sentry smote upon his ear. He awoke instantly, and opening his eyes ... gazed full into the face of a full-grown lion which was standing by the side of his bed critically examining him, probably from a gastronomical point of view. El Hakim, with a rapidity born of long experience, rolled out of bed on the opposite side and groped for his rifle, at the same time uttering the startled cry which had aroused the camp. When George and I appeared, the lion had already fled, and we found El Hakim bemoaning his luck at not getting a shot, instead of being profoundly grateful that the lion had not taken him with him when he departed.
It took the men a couple of hours to get the startled sheep together again. On examining the lion’s spoor, we found that it had walked right through the camp, having apparently carefully threaded its way among the recumbent bodies of the sleeping porters.
On the next march the sheep showed signs of fatigue, so we camped early. We sent a couple of men on to M’thara to report on the attitude of the natives, and also to come back and meet us with the two provision boxes. On the following day we once more negotiated the “cinder-heap,” and just before sundown reached the “Green Camp,” after a rather forced march. Ramathani surprised a baby water-buck asleep in the grass, and after a smart chase ran it down and captured it. He proudly brought it to El Hakim, who determined to make an effort to rear it. He therefore extemporized a feeding-bottle from a tumbler and a piece of rubber tubing from his surgical case, while the ink-filler of his fountain pen provided both a piece of glass tube and a teat. The stupid little beast did not appreciate his well-meant efforts, however, and absolutely refused to suck. It was eventually provided with a meal by the combined efforts of the three of us. I held it still, George forced its mouth open, while El Hakim poured the milk drop by drop down its throat with a teaspoon, though during the operation it did not seem at all grateful for the care so lavishly bestowed upon it.
During the afternoon George shot a rhinoceros. I also wished to shoot another rhino or two, and determined to stay in the “Green Camp” for another day for that purpose, while El Hakim and George went on with the bulk of the safari and the animals. By making a forced march I could overtake them on the second day at our old “Buffalo Camp.” In addition, I was anxious to shoot a few grantei, and so lay in a stock of meat for the use of the men until we were able to purchase food in M’thara.
Accordingly, the following morning El Hakim and George went on, while I sallied out on sport intent. Crossing the little stream which flowed round two sides of the camp, I made my way towards the Waso Nyiro. Five hundred yards away from camp I reached the path usually taken by the game when going down to drink at the river. The grantei, as I knew from previous observation, usually came down at ten o’clock in the morning; so at a quarter to ten I concealed myself behind the trunk of a thorn tree, stretching myself out at full length upon the ground, a most uncomfortable position, as the ground was strewn with little knobs of rock firmly embedded in the soil. When I did venture to remove some loose pieces that inconvenienced my elbows and knees, I disturbed a few colonies of tiny ants, which, although they did not bite, crawled all over me in a most uncomfortable manner. I had lain there about half an hour, when my patience was rewarded by the sight of the advance guard of the grantei army advancing steadily in my direction. They were led by a noble-looking buck, who displayed a magnificent pair of horns. He was a little suspicious, and hesitated whether to come on or not. I was very carefully concealed, and as I kept perfectly still, he finally conquered his distrust, and once more advanced, followed by the remainder of the herd. Waiting my opportunity, I banged at him at forty yards, and dropped him with a dum-dum bullet through the heart. The others ran this way and that, not knowing from which quarter the danger had come, as I still kept carefully out of sight. The consequence was that I secured two others, as handsome as the first, with the expenditure of only two more cartridges. As I now had enough meat, I stayed my hand, and did no further execution, though, had I been so disposed, I might have secured at least a dozen from the herd before they finally recovered from their confusion and took to flight.
