"Well, Memba Sasa," I inquired.
"The men are here."
"They were far?"
"Very far."
"Verna, Memba Sasa, assanti sana."[14]
That was his sole--and sufficient--reward.
FOOTNOTES:
[12] I have just heard that this old man survived, and has been singing
our praises in Nairobi as the saviour of his life.
[13] His name for the.405 Winchester.
[14] "Very good, Memba Sasa, thanks very much."
XXVIII.
DOWN THE RIVER.
Relieved now of all anxiety as to water, we had merely to make our way
downstream. First, however, there remained the interesting task of
determining its source.
Accordingly next day we and our gunbearers left the boys to a
well-earned rest, and set out upstream. At first we followed the edge of
the river jungle, tramping over hard hot earth, winding in and out of
growths of thorn scrub and brilliant aloes. We saw a herd of impallas
gliding like phantoms; and as we stood in need of meat, I shot at one of
them but missed. The air was very hot and moist. At five o'clock in the
morning the thermometer had stood at 78 degrees; and by noon it had
mounted to 106 degrees. In addition the atmosphere was filled with the
humidity that later in the day was to break in extraordinary deluges.
We moved slowly, but even then our garments were literally dripping wet.
At the end of three miles the stream bed widened. We came upon
beautiful, spacious, open lawns of from eighty to one hundred acres
apiece, separated from each other by narrow strips of tall forest trees.
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