Within a short time I had killed a Thompson's gazelle. Some solemn
giraffes looked on at the performance, and then moved off like
mechanical toys.
The day lengthened. We were in the midst of wonderful scenery. Our
objection grew to be that it took so long to put any of it behind us.
Insensibly, however, we made progress. Suddenly, as it seemed, we found
ourselves looking at the other side of Suswa, and various brand-new
little craters had moved up to take the places of our old friends. At
last, about half-past four, we topped the swell of one of the numerous
and interminable land billows that undulate across all plains countries
here, and saw a few miles away the wagon outspanned. We reached it about
sunset, to be greeted by the welcome news that there was indeed water in
the pan.
We unsaddled just before dark, and I immediately started towards the
game herds, many of which were grazing a half-mile away. The gazelle
would supply our own larder, but meat for hard-worked man was very
desirable. I shot a hartebeeste, made the prearranged signal for men to
carry meat, and returned to camp.
Even yet the men were not all in. We took lanterns and returned along
the road, for the long marches under a desert sun are no joke. At last
we had accounted for all but two. These we had to abandon. Next day we
found their loads, but never laid eyes on them again. Thus early our
twenty-nine became twenty-seven.
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