I had with me a couple of Masai who knew the country, and they assured me that we should find water not far away, but as we did not come to it as soon as they had led me to expect, I outspanned, and taking my rifle and one of the boys, I set off to find it.
In Africa one learns to judge from the formation of the country and the nature and state of the vegetation where one might expect to find water, and I was very successful in locating it, my judgment often proving right when the guides assured me that there was no water near. On this occasion it was nearly dark when we came to a swamp, and being terribly thirsty, we at once started drinking the dirty water, without stopping to look any farther, and, to our great disgust, afterwards found that there was a beautiful stream of running water only a few yards from where we had been drinking, which made us repent of our haste to quench our thirst. People who live in the civilized parts of the world can never really appreciate the true value of water. To the traveller in Africa it is the one thing he learns to prize above all others, and it is not surprising, therefore, to find the natives in some parts worshipping it as their god, since they know of no higher blessing.
Taking some of the water from the stream with us, we returned to camp and gave all the men a good drink, and early next morning I left the wagons, and took all the donkeys to have a good drink and a good feed as well, as there was plenty of good grazing in the neighbourhood of the stream. The animals appeared to be thoroughly knocked up, and far from well, which I put down to their having been so long without water, though I was by no means sure that they had not been tampered with by the Masai drivers. The Masai are blood drinkers, and when they have a chance will make an incision in the jugular vein of an animal and thus drink its blood, and I had little doubt that this was what they had been doing to my donkeys while I was away looking for the water.
I brought up the wagons, and camped by the stream throughout the next day, as I saw that there was a good crossing over the stream, and the country was simply full of game. What struck me as most remarkable here was the tameness of the zebra, who were mixed up among my donkeys, all quietly grazing together near the wagons.
The condition of the donkeys began to get worse, and one by one they began to fall sick and die. Then the boys began to desert, as is the habit of the nigger when things begin to go wrong, and each day saw me with one donkey and one boy less.
It was part of my contract that the loads should be delivered by a certain time, otherwise I had to pay a heavy penalty—about two rupees a load for every twenty-four hours after the time fixed—so, as I had only some twenty-five miles farther to go, I set to work to collect the loads, intending to complete the rest of the journey without the wagons, by taking the rice on the donkeys’ backs. By doing this I managed to get the journey completed and the loads delivered only a day or so after the proper time, but when I had finished the journey I found myself with just one donkey and three boys left!
It was impossible to take the wagons back without donkeys, so, taking the lid off one of the food boxes, I painted on it with wagon grease “Dead Donkey Camp,” and having stuck this up I left the wagons, and never saw them again, while with my three boys and my sole remaining donkey I started to trek back to Naivasha.
On the way back I met one or two parties surveying, who all complained of the difficulty of getting food, and said that their people were more or less starving. Rice was very difficult to get, as it had to be shipped to Mombasa and then brought up-country, while the cost of transport, as I have pointed out, was very heavy, and no food was to be got from the Nandi country, which lay between us and the Lake Victoria Nyanza.
Everybody knew that the Kikuyu country was full of food, but any parties which had gone out to buy supplies there had always been killed by the natives: in one instance a party had been attacked within about thirty miles of the Government station at Fort Smith, and nearly every man killed.
Food was wanted, I found, for the Government stations on the caravan road, as well as for the surveying parties on the line of the Uganda Railway, and as it was worth a rupee a pound, I thought I saw a good chance of making some money by trying my luck in the Kikuyu country.