s good an
excuse as another.

The most immediate of our physical difficulties was the Thirst. Six
miles from Kijabe we would leave the Kedong River. After that was no
more water for two days and nights. During that time we should be forced
to travel and rest in alternation day and night, with a great deal of
travel and very little rest. We should be able to carry for the men a
limited amount of water on the ox wagon, but the cattle could not drink.
It was a hard, anxious grind. A day's journey beyond the first water
after the Thirst we should cross the Southern Guaso Nyero River.[18]
Then two days should land us at the Narossara. There we must leave our
ox wagon and push on with our tiny safari. We planned to relay back for
porters from our different camps.

That was our whole plan. Our transport rider's object in starting this
night was to reach the Kedong River, and there to outspan until our
arrival next day. The cattle would thus get a good feed and rest. Then
at four in the afternoon we would set out to conquer the Thirst. After
that it would be a question of travelling to suit the oxen.

Next morning, when we arose, we found one of the wagon Kikuyus awaiting
us. His tale ran that after going four miles, the oxen had been
stampeded by lions. In the mix-up the dusselboom had been broken. He
demanded a new dusselboom. I looked as wise as though I knew just what
that meant; and told him largely, to help himself. Shortly he departed
carrying what looked to be the greater part of a forest tree.

We were in no hurry, so we did not try to get our safari under way
before eight o'clock. It consisted of twenty-nine porters, the
gunbearers, three personal boys, three syces, and the cook. Of this lot
some few stand out from the rest, and deserve particular attention.

Of course I had my veterans, Memba Sasa and Mohammed. There was also
Kongoni, gunbearer, elsewhere described. The third gunbearer was
Marrouki, a Wakamba. He was the personal gunbearer of a Mr. Twigg, who
very courteously loaned him for this trip as possessing some knowledge
of the country. He was a small person, with stripes about his eyes;
dressed in a Scotch highland cap, khaki breeches, and a shooting coat
miles too big for him. His soul was earnest, his courage great, his
training good, his intelligence none too brilliant. Timothy, our cook,
was pure Swahili. He was a thin, elderly individual, with a wrinkled
brow of care. This represented a conscientio