delay, the Bakers procured canoes, "merely single
trees neatly hollowed out," and paddled along the shores of the newly
found lake. The water was calm, the views most lovely. Hippopotami
sported in the water; crocodiles were numerous. Day after day they
paddled north, sometimes using a large Scotch plaid as sail. It was
dangerous work. Once a great storm nearly swamped them. The little
canoe shipped heavy seas; terrific bursts of thunder and vivid
lightning broke over the lake, hiding everything from view. Then down
came the rain in torrents, swept along by a terrific wind. They reached
the shore in safety, but the discomforts of the voyage were great,
and poor Mrs. Baker suffered severely. On the thirteenth day they found
themselves at the end of the lake voyage, and carefully examined the
exit of the Nile from the lake. They now followed the river in their
canoe for some eighteen miles, when they suddenly heard a roar of water,
and, rounding a corner, "a magnificent sight suddenly burst upon us.
On either side of the river were beautifully wooded cliffs rising
abruptly to a height of three hundred feet and rushing through a gap
that cleft the rock. The river pent up in a narrow gorge roared
furiously through the rock-bound pass, till it plunged in one leap
of about one hundred and twenty feet into a dark abyss below. This
was the greatest waterfall of the Nile, and in honour of the
distinguished President of the Royal Geographical Society I named it
the Murchison Falls." Further navigation was impossible, and with oxen
and porters they proceeded by land. Mrs. Baker was still carried in
a litter, while Baker walked by her side. Both were soon attacked again
with fever, and when night came they threw themselves down in a wretched
hut. A violent thunderstorm broke over them, and they lay there utterly
helpless, and worn out till sunrise. Worse was to come. The natives
now deserted them, and they were alone and helpless, with a wilderness
of rank grass hemming them in on every side. Their meals consisted
of a mess of black porridge of bitter mouldy flour "that no English
pig would notice" and a dish of spinach. For nearly two months they
existed here, until they became perfect skeletons.

"We had given up all hope of Gondokoro," says Baker, "and I had told
my headman to deliver my map and papers to the English Consul at
Khartum."

But they were not to die here. The king, Kamrasi, having heard of their
wretched conditio