rable caution this time, the old bird had
flown, having crossed the Sabaki River before our approach and gone to
join the rest of the Somalis at Teita, whom the admiral was now busy
encompassing.

Our way, therefore, so far, was clear; and, breasting the hills
manfully, we proceeded along the route marked out for us, our hopes high
and our spirits buoyant at the chance of now turning the tables on the
old miscreant who had previously beguiled us.

The country a little way from the coast began to get beautifully wooded:
while a series of undulating plateaus were planted by the natives with
plantains and sugar-canes, besides various vegetables whose names none
of us knew.

Farther up the mountains some of the trees were tall and spreading,
unlike anything, I thought, that ever grew in Africa; for I recognised a
mountain-ash and a sort of oak, while the juniper-tree perfumed the air
with its aromatic smell.

I have good cause to remember these same junipers! On our way up the
heights, Larrikins and I, who were scouting in advance, on either side
of the front of the column, met a native, who told us in the bastard
jargon of the coast called the Swahili language that some big animals,
which he said were bigger than us and covered with long hair, were in a
valley on our right; and that, if we valued our lives, so at least
Larrikins told me, he having picked up some of the lingo from a negro
woman at Malindi, we had better make a detour so as to avoid this place.

"Nonsense," said I. "The rascal, perhaps, is another spy like that chap
who led us into the stockade trap! I ain't going out of the straight
road the cap'en laid down for us to steer. He said the column was to go
west sou'-west by compass, and west sou'-west, Larry, I'm going!"

So saying, off I bore in the direction I had indicated, keeping to the
right of the main column, which was following the bank of the Sabaki
River.

Trudging along steadily, Larry just keeping in sight of me, so as to
hold touch with the column, I came, a little way farther on, upon a most
beautiful grove of camphor and juniper-trees, that seemed cut out of a
gorge in the Kilima-Njaro mountains.

The smell was so overpoweringly sweet and delicious, after the toil of
our long march and the arid wastes through which we had drearily toiled,
knee-deep in hot sand that had burnt the soles of our feet through our
boots, that I really could not help halting for a moment to inhale the
so