d to doze or read. The heat at this time of day was blighting.
About four o'clock, if we happened to be inspired by energy, one or the
other of us strolled out at right angles to the stream to see what we
could see. The evening was tepid and beautiful. Bathed and pyjama-clad
we lolled in our canvas chairs, smoking, chatting or listening to the
innumerable voices of the night.

Such was the simple and almost invariable routine of our days. But
enriching it, varying it, disguising it even--as rain-squalls, sunshine
cloud shadow, and unexpected winds modify the landscape so well known
from a study window--were the incredible incidents and petty adventures
of African travel.

The topography of the river itself might be divided very roughly into
three: the headwater country down to its junction with the Tsavo the
palm-elephant-grass stretch, and the gorge and hill district just before
it crosses the rail road.

The headwater country is most beautiful The stream is not over ten feet
wide, but very deep, swift, and clear. It flows between defined banks
and is set in a narrow strip of jungle. In places the bed widens out to
a carpet of the greenest green grass sown with flowers; at other places
it offers either mysterious thickets, spacious cathedrals, or snug
bowers. Immediately beyond the edge of this river jungle begins the
thorn scrub, more or less dense. Distant single mountains or buttes
serve as landmarks in a brush-grown, gently rising, strongly rolling
country. Occasional alluvial flats draw back to low cliffs not over
twenty feet high.

After the junction of the Tsavo, palms of various sorts replace to a
large extent the forest trees. Naturally also the stream widens and
flows more slowly. Outside the palms grow tall elephant-grass and bush.
Our marching had generally to be done in the narrow, neutral space
between these two growths. It was pleasant enough, with the river
snatching at the trailing branches, and the birds and animals rustling
away. Beyond the elephant-grass flats low ridges ran down to the river,
varying in width, but carrying always with them the dense thorn. Between
them ran recesses, sometimes three or four hundred acres in extent, high
with elephant-grass or little trees like alders. So much for the
immediate prospect on our right as we marched. Across the river to our
left were huge riven mountains, with great cliffs and canons. As we
followed necessarily every twist and turn of the river, som