V. seemed quite put out at this poor showing, so I suppose they can
ordinarily do better; but I imagine they are a good deal like our
hunting Indians--poor shots, but very skilful at stalking close to a
beast.
Our missing porter, with the tent, was brought in next afternoon by
Kongoni, who had gone in search of him. The man was a big, strong
Kavirondo. He was sullen, and merely explained that he was "tired." This
excuse for a five hours' march after eight days' rest! I fined him eight
rupees, which I gave Kongoni, and ordered him twenty-five lashes. Six
weeks later he did the same trick. C. allotted him fifty lashes, and had
him led thereafter by a short rope around the neck. He was probably
addicted to opium. This was the only man to be formally kibokoed on the
whole trip--a good testimony at once to C.'s management, the
discrimination we had used in picking them out, and the settled
reputations we had by now acquired.
After C.'s return we prepared to penetrate straight back through the
great rampart of mountains to the south and west.
We crossed the bush-grown plains, and entered a gently rising long canon
flanked on either side by towering ranges that grew higher and higher
the farther we proceeded. In the very centre of the mountains,
apparently, this canon ended in a small round valley. There appeared to
be no possible exit, save by the way we had come, or over the almost
perpendicular ridges a thousand feet or more above.
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