proceeded to build up the usual fire for signal
and for protection against wild beasts. Then we sat down to enjoy the
evening, while Mavrouki skinned the kudu.

We looked abroad over a wide stretch of country. Successive low ridges
crossed our front, each of a different shade of slate gray from its
neighbours, and a gray half-luminous mist filled the valley between
them. The edge of the world was thrown sharp against burnished copper.
After a time the moon rose.

Memba Sasa arrived before the lanterns, out of breath, his face
streaming with perspiration. Poor Memba Sasa! this was almost the only
day he had not followed close at my heels, and on this day we had
captured the Great Prize. No thought of that seemed to affect the
heartiness of his joy. He rushed up to shake both my hands; he examined
the kudu with an attention that was held only by great restraint; he let
go that restrain to shake me again enthusiastically by the hands. After
him, up the hill, bobbed slowly the lanterns. The smiling bearers
shouldered the trophy and the meat, and we stumbled home through the
half shadows and the opalescences of the moonlight.

Our task in this part of the country was now finished. We set out on the
return journey. The weather changed. A beautiful, bright-copper sunset
was followed by a drizzle. By morning this had turned into a heavy rain.
We left the topi camp, to which we had by now returned, cold and
miserable. C. and I had contributed our waterproofs to protect the
precious trophies, and we were speedily wet through. The grass was long.
This was no warm and grateful tropical rain, but a driving, chilling
storm straight out from the high mountains.

We marched up the long plain, we turned to the left around the base of
the ranges, we mounted the narrow grass valley, we entered the
forest--the dark, dripping, and unfriendly forest. Over the edge we
dropped and clambered down through the hanging vines and the sombre
trees. By-and-by, we emerged on the open plains below, the plains on the
hither side of the Narossara, the Africa we had known so long. The rain
ceased. It was almost as though a magic portal had clicked after us.
Behind it lay the wonderful secret upper country of the unknown.

XLVIII.

THE LAST TREK.

Some weeks later we camped high on the slopes of Suswa, the great
mountain of the Rift Valley, only one day's march from the railroad.
After the capture of the kudu Africa still held for us vario