Both boys were glad enough to hasten on. The high altitude was not good for the oxen, and the cold nights disgusted both of them, for they were hardly prepared to meet cold in this region. Day and night they forced the march along, and were soon rewarded by drawing through valleys and slopes to the plains once more.
As they went forward the vegetation changed. There was no jungle ahead of them—only long rolling slopes dotted with thorntree patches and covered with long thick grass. More than once lions trotted away before them, and on one occasion they were forced to kill a lioness that charged full at the wagons.
"It is beautiful country," exclaimed von Hofe enthusiastically, pointing to the mountain peaks that shot up on every side. "Some day it will be grand farms, when the soil is watered. See, it is volcanic."
He picked up a stone, showing them the indications of volcanic origin. Here and there palms towered up, and when they camped beside a river the next evening the vegetation bordered its banks thickly. Of game there was no lack, and that night the three took their gun-bearers and sallied forth.
"We ought to find a deer-run along this river," declared Jack. Schoverling smiled.
"According to the map it's a branch of the Guaso Nyero, and the last big stream we strike. To-morrow we head off to the northeast, and into the mapless country. See if you can run across any tracks, boys."
Charlie and Jack separated and after twenty minutes' search in the dusk Charlie located an open glade in a great grove of mimosas, where the deep tracks showed that hundreds of animals were in the habit of watering. Von Hofe had followed them and now joined the party, bearing a little rifle which he had carried in sections in his tiny brass trunk.
"I am something going to shoot," he said, paying no attention to their jests. "Is it allowed to smoke?"
"Not much," chuckled Jack. "You just sit tight and wait. What you going to shoot?"
"I want a good oryx head," declared the scientist. "But I will shoot him myself."