_RETURN TO M’THARA._
An ivory “shauri”—Death of Sadi ben Heri and his companions—Purchasing
ivory—El Hakim and I return to M’thara—A night in the open—George
ill—The Wa’M’thara at their old tricks—Return of the Somalis from
Chanjai—They refuse to return to Embe—I interview an elephant.
In the afternoon Bei-Munithu paid us a visit in order to hear our
version of what had happened at G’nainu. He listened attentively to our
recital without making any comment. When we had concluded he informed
us that he also had sent spies back to G’nainu, as, in addition to our
five men, eleven of his own who had accompanied them were missing.
We learnt further that the natives of a village about two hours’ march
distant wished to sell us a tusk of ivory. We heartened considerably
at that, and asked Bei-Munithu to bring the owner along to talk it
over. He thereupon withdrew, presently returning with a very aged
and decrepit man, who tottered forward by the aid of a staff, whom
he introduced to us as the owner of the tusk. We politely begged the
venerable gentleman to seat himself, and waited till it pleased him to
open negotiations. In a few moments he had collected enough energy to
speak, and producing a reed some six feet long, indicated that that
was the measurement of the tusk.
“Very well,” we said. “It seems a good tusk. How much do you want for
it?”
After a little thought he remarked that one cow and three sheep would
be considered a very fair return.
“All right,” said we; “if the tusk is all it is represented to be, we
will give even the price asked, in order to save the trouble of a long
‘shauri.’ But first let us see the tusk.”
He assented to this, and in a little while rose and retired, presumably
to bring the tusk. For over two hours we waited expectantly, but
he did not return, and we were just thinking of sending over to
Bei-Munithu for an explanation when that gentleman himself appeared,
leading forward a native still more ancient than our former visitor.
This latter individual slowly seated himself in front of our tent and
solemnly chewed a twig which he drew from a bundle of similar ones
carried in his belt.[6] The ancient gentleman munched away for some
minutes, and finally condescended to speak. He announced, between
chews, that he owned a tusk of ivory which he wished to sell us. We,
metaphorically, hugged ourselves. Two tusks in one afternoon! But we
received a rude shock when the interpreter informed us that the old
gentleman was referring to the same tusk.
“Why,” we explained, “the owner has already called upon us, and we have
completed the bargain.”
“Oh no,” said the old savage, “that was a young man sent to bargain
with you” (practically testing the market). “I am the owner.”
“Very well,” said we. “We don’t care whom it belongs to so long as it
is sold to us; and the sooner the better.”
“But,” said the old savage, “I want a cow and _four_ sheep!”
We grew heated, and told him to go to Heligoland, or words to that
effect; but he refused to depart thither.
“The other man,” he said, “like all young men, was very rash, and
exceeded his instructions. I myself could not think of letting such a
beautiful tusk go for less than one cow, a _good_ cow, and four sheep.”
We remained firm, however, and he finally agreed to let us have the
tusk at the original price. He then retired, while we wiped our
perspiring foreheads and took a nice long drink of brackish water.
At that moment a messenger arrived from M’thara with a note to me from
George, asking me to return as soon as possible, he being very ill with
fever. El Hakim had intended returning on the morrow, since we were
still waiting for news from G’nainu of our missing men, though we had
lost all hope of their being still alive.
Next morning, therefore, we rose early, and sent a messenger over
to the people who had the tusk, inquiring why they had not sent it
over the day before as they had promised. The messenger returned
saying that they were close behind him bringing the ivory. We waited
with what little patience we could muster till nearly midday, when a
deputation of elders turned up leading a withered, tottering skeleton,
which on closer inspection proved to be an extremely ancient native.
He looked more like a fossil than a human being, but, as we found, he
still possessed, in a high degree, the native cunning and keenness
in a bargain. The deputation carefully seated the fossil before us,
and, grouping themselves respectfully round it, relapsed into a dead
silence, only interrupted by the clicking of their jaws as they chewed
their everlasting twigs. The fossil moved, woke up, and for some time
gazed at us out of its bleared eyes, expectorating thoughtfully at
intervals, while we in turn looked at it with some interest. After we
had satisfied our mutual curiosity we spoke to the fossil, politely
inquiring its errand. It gazed at us once more, expectorated, coughed,
and announced that it was the owner of the much-disputed tusk, and had
come to arrange the purchase price!
“What!” we cried, “is this tusk owned by a syndicate? We have already
had two ‘shauries,’ and wasted two days over it. Who _is_ the owner,
anyhow?”
The deputation assured us, with the utmost simplicity that _this_
was the _real_ owner; the other two were _only friends_. We resigned
ourselves to the inevitable, and prepared to engineer yet another
bargain.
The fossil again condescended to speak, and declared that the precious
tusk should not go out of his possession except in exchange for one
very good cow, and three female sheep with lambs! We refused to
entertain any such advance on the original price, and the matter
was discussed with considerable animation and some heat for an hour
or more. At the end of that time, when our patience was almost at
vanishing-point, we agreed on a compromise. We argued that we had not
yet seen the tusk, and consequently did not know if it was really as
good as it was represented to be. We would therefore send a man over to
their village, and on his return with a favourable report would give
the price last demanded. On the contrary, if it were not such a good
tusk as we had been led to believe, we would only give the original
price asked. This plan they eventually agreed to. Resarse ben Shokar
was ordered to accompany them to their village and report on the ivory.
The deputation then rose and withdrew, taking the fossil with them. We
retired to our tent, but had not been seated more than a few moments
when the sound of excited exclamations from the men caused us, ever on
alert for news of our missing men, to spring to our feet. We rushed
outside and saw an excited, heaving group of our men volubly discussing
some object in their midst. I shouted an order, and the group separated
and led towards our tent a man apparently in the last stage of
exhaustion. Commanding silence, we called Ramathani to interpret. The
man straightened himself, and we were horrified to observe a great
gaping wound in his right arm, that looked like a sword-cut, which
had been roughly stitched up with fibre. He announced amid breathless
silence that he was the sole survivor of our five Swahilis and the
eight native allies who had accompanied them. Our men groaned and wept
at the news, but we again commanded silence, and bit by bit, by dint of
careful questioning, we extracted the whole wretched story.
“Your four Zanzibaris,” said the native, “Sadi, Hamiz, Abdullah, and
Marazuki, and one M’kamba, with eight of we Munithu people, slipped
away from Wa’sungu so that we might collect cattle and sheep. We went
very far and got many cattle. Presently we crossed the border of
G’nainu into Nimbere, and there Sadi ben Heri, who commanded, seized
many cattle and sheep from the Wa’Nimbere, who at once attacked us;
but your men drove them away with their guns. We could not turn back,
as the Wa’G’nainu were behind us, and Sadi ben Heri said, ‘Let us go
on through this country, and so come to Munithu, where we shall be
safe.’ We therefore crossed Nimbere, being many times attacked by the
‘Washenzi’ (savages) on the way, but the Zanzibaris always drove them
off with their guns; but afterwards they had not many cartridges left.
“We then got into N’dakura, where there are many people, and there
Sadi ben Heri said, ‘Let us take even more cattle and sheep from
these people.’ So we took many cattle and sheep from the Wa’N’dakura,
who then attacked us very fiercely; but your men again drove away
the Washenzi with their guns. But their cartridges were very nearly
finished, while the paths were narrow and the bush very thick. The
Wa’G’nainu and Wa’Nimbere were behind us, and the Wa’N’dakura were
in front. They came so close that we had to leave all the cattle and
sheep that we had taken, so that we might try to save our lives. The
enemy came closer and closer to us in the plantations and the bush,
and then your men fired their last cartridge. Soon after that Abdullah
was speared in the stomach, then Sadi was killed with spears, while
the M’kamba was killed with a sword, and Marazuki and Hamiz were also
killed with spears. There were very many of the ‘Washenzi.’ I was cut
on my arm with a sword, and I ran away and hid in the forest. The other
seven Munithu men were killed while trying to run away. Some were
killed with spears and others with swords, and some with arrows. I
waited till it was night, and then I came here.”
Such was the story of the missing man, and a ghastly business it was.
It was entirely due to the disobedience of Sadi and his companions,
and also to their stupidity in not confining their operations to
the people with whom we were fighting. As it was, they had now given
offence to two powerful tribes who had hitherto been friendly to us.
In addition, four of our rifles were in the hands of the enemy, which
might well be a source of bitter trouble to us in the future; as,
indeed, it turned out.
At the conclusion of the narrative we sent the wounded man away, with
orders that his wants should be attended to, and talked the matter
over. It was then dusk, and much too late to think of starting for
M’thara.
A few moments later Resarse arrived in camp from the village where
the ivory was, and delivered his report. He informed us that it was
a fair-sized tusk, and would weigh perhaps 50 lbs. An hour later the
fossil and his friends turned up, and after a mild discussion we agreed
to pay the price demanded, viz. a cow and three ewes with lambs—on the
condition that they were to let us have the tusk very early on the
following morning, as we explained that we were greatly desirous of
starting early for M’thara; I, for one, being a little anxious about
George.
Therefore at sunrise next morning we despatched Resarse to the fossil’s
village with a cow, together with a message to the effect that he
(Resarse) was to bring back the tusk with him, accompanied by one
or two of their men, to whom we would hand over the balance of the
purchase price due to them, _i.e._ the three ewes and their lambs.
Partaking of an early breakfast, we next packed up the tent and the
numerous loads belonging to El Hakim which had been in Bei-Munithu’s
charge, though we had to leave some of them behind. There were about
fifteen loads of various beads, a 300-yard Alpine rope, ten or a dozen
loads of mardūf (English drill), about six loads of iron, copper, and
brass wire, some “bendera” (red cloth) and “kiniki” (blue cloth), and
also some loads of camp equipment, medicines, and ammunition; which,
together with some signal-rockets and gamekeepers’ flares, totalled up
to some forty odd loads. The donkeys gave some trouble at first, as
they were very fresh, and strongly objected to being loaded again after
twelve days’ idleness. Finally, somewhere about ten o’clock we were
ready for our long-delayed return to M’thara.
All this time there were no signs of Resarse or the ivory. Half an hour
after we had finished packing he was descried approaching the camp,
but was still driving the cow; there were no signs of the tusk. Our
disgust and annoyance can be imagined when we heard that the fossil had
hidden the tusk and run away! Bei-Munithu was peremptorily summoned,
and we angrily demanded the reason of this treatment, expressing our
displeasure in sufficiently severe terms. Bei-Munithu, much disturbed,
departed to find out.
We simmered for another two hours till his return. From his account it
appeared that there were _two_ tusks, and the owner, seeing Resarse
approaching with only one cow, thought we intended to cheat him, and
incontinently fled. Bei-Munithu, however, had now persuaded him that
we were honest, and he was now on his way to camp with the two tusks.
Again we sat down and waited, with as much patience as we could command
under the circumstances.
We unloaded the donkeys, and tried to rake out something eatable, but
failed, as there was nothing cooked. At two o’clock in the afternoon
we were still waiting. At that hour one of Bei-Munithu’s men came into
camp with the information that the fossil and his friends had _run
away again, taking the two tusks with them_. El Hakim exploded at this
aggravating news. He sent for Bei-Munithu once more, and fairly made
the old reprobate shake with fear, though, as far as we knew, it was no
fault of his.
“Go at once,” cried El Hakim, “and tell these people that I have waited
two days on their account. I will wait no longer. If they do not bring
that ivory within two hours, I will come and burn their villages and
destroy their plantations to the last muhindi stalk.”
Bei-Munithu became greatly agitated, and implored El Hakim to have
a little patience while he himself went to see the fossil and his
friends, in order that he might try to convince them of the error of
their ways.
He returned late in the afternoon, accompanied by the fossil and the
other two ancients, with whom we had bargained, bringing with them
the two tusks. We gave them a piece of our minds and the price agreed
upon, and allowed them as a special favour to pick their three ewes, a
proceeding which occupied the greater part of another hour.
The tusks were only medium specimens, weighing 90 lbs. the pair. We
thanked Bei-Munithu for his efforts on our behalf, although we had more
than a shrewd suspicion that he had caused the whole delay from first
to last, though for what purpose we could not be very certain.
It was very late in the day when we eventually started for Mathara,
and there seemed very little hope of reaching it that night, though we
determined to try, notwithstanding our many loads and our miscellaneous
collection of cattle, sheep, goats, and loaded donkeys, all of
which seemed to have contracted a malignant type of perverseness,
inasmuch as they would not keep to the path, needing constant care
and watchfulness and frequent halts in order to recover stragglers.
Fortunately, Dirito and one of his tribesmen volunteered to accompany
us and “chunga” (drive) the animals, an offer which we gladly accepted.
We made fair progress until we reached the strip of forest described in
the account of our first march to Karanjui, on the borders of which we
arrived just before dusk. We were joined there by Viseli, one of the
head-men of Chanjai, and one of his people, who proceeded to assist
Dirito in driving the animals. In this manner we reached Karanjui, and
El Hakim proposed that we should camp there. I was averse to such a
plan, however, remembering George’s note, so we pushed on.
Traversing the further belt of forest, we crawled out into the open
plain which stretches away to Mathara. The sun had already set, and
the wind became bitterly cold. The porters were tired and beginning
to straggle, but as there was no water nearer than a stream an hour’s
march on the hither side of our own camp, we had no choice but to
proceed in spite of the darkness. On we went, Dirito and Viseli with
the tired animals keeping close to us, while the porters were strung
out in an irregular line in the rear. It grew pitch dark, and a cold
wind, increasing in violence, nearly froze us.
Hour after hour we pursued our hopeless way in the blackness of the
night, until somewhere about 8 p.m., when we reached the small stream.
It was useless going any further, so we camped. We called for the
tent to be pitched and firewood brought, but to our surprise met with
no response. We could not understand it. We called again, but beyond
Dirito and Viseli and their two henchmen with the animals, there were
not more than three or four men with us, and they were carrying loads
of cloth. The others were scattered somewhere in the darkness along the
path by which we had come. We were in a nice predicament, our small
party being perched on a bare, bleak hillside, exposed to the full
fury of the icy blast without a tent, a blanket, or a thing to eat,
though nothing had passed our lips since our hasty meal at daylight
that morning. However, there was nothing to do but to make the best of
it, so we ordered a large fire to be made, to try to mitigate in some
degree the freezing horror of the icy gale. Another disappointment
awaited us; there was absolutely no firewood to be had. Our few men
searched diligently for an hour, and brought back two or three handfuls
of brushwood, which by dint of a wasteful expenditure of matches,
coupled with no small amount of profanity, were transformed into a puny
apology for a fire.
Presently, to our great joy, we heard shouts from the other side of
the stream, and soon we had the satisfaction of beholding a small body
of our porters approaching. We eagerly examined their loads, but alas!
they consisted, of course, of brass and iron wire, and, by the irony of
fate, one load of cooking and table utensils.
El Hakim and I resigned ourselves to a night of discomfort, and
crouched down over the miserable spark we dignified by the name of
a fire. An hour later a solitary porter struggled into our midst,
and, lo and behold, he carried the fly-sheet of the tent. We hastily
uncorded it, and found the tent-pegs rolled up inside; these were at
once sacrificed for firewood, and we soon had a moderate blaze going.
Then Ramathani discovered some pieces of raw meat among the cooking
utensils, the remains of a sheep we had killed two days before. We very
soon had them out, and cutting them into chunks, toasted them in the
frying-pan, which formed a nourishing though somewhat indiarubber-like
meal. El Hakim then spread the canvas fly-sheet out on the ground, and
we both crept under it and tried to forget our discomfort in sleep.
The gale blew with great violence all night, blowing our protecting
fly-sheet up at the corners, and sending an icy draught up our
trouser-legs in a most disagreeable manner; so that, altogether, we
were unfeignedly thankful when the first grey streaks that heralded the
dawn appeared in the eastern heavens.
We arose and stretched our stiff and frozen limbs, and calling up the
few men who, huddled to the leeward of the animals, resembled so many
corpses under their scanty linen cloths, we started for our camp at
Mathara, which, having struck the right path, we reached in an hour.
George had not yet risen, but, hearing our arrival, wrapped himself in
a blanket and came out of his tent. I was very disagreeably surprised
at his appearance. He was quite yellow and very thin and haggard, the
effect of a severe attack of fever, which, coupled with anxiety on
our account and differences with the Wa’Mathara in camp, had given
him a very bad time indeed. He looked more like a ghost than a living
being, but “all’s well that ends well,” and our arrival safe and sound
contributed in no small degree to his speedy recovery. The Wa’Mathara,
it appeared, had again been up to their old trick of surrounding the
camp with armed men, and on one occasion they had actually attacked
some of our camp followers while on their way to the stream for water.
In fact, George was compelled to get up from his bed, where he lay
racked with fever, and, seizing his rifle, sally forth accompanied by
four or five men in order to drive off the enemy, who, however, fled
at his approach without further hostilities.
We now commenced preparations for our move northward to the Waso
Nyiro River, selecting what trade goods and cattle we should require,
intending to leave the balance with N’Dominuki. Food had also to be
bought and packed into loads, as, after leaving Mathara, there were no
other cultivated districts in the direction we intended to travel, and
we should have to depend for sustenance entirely upon the food we were
able to carry with us, and on any game we might be able to shoot. An
inventory of the contents of our food-boxes showed that there was no
reserve salt, and beyond an ounce or two in use, there was absolutely
none in the safari. I mentioned the disconcerting fact to El Hakim,
but he consoled me with the assurance that we should certainly be able
to obtain salt at a crater, marked N’gomba on the map, a little to the
south of the Waso Nyiro and due north of the Jombeni Mountains. Our
supply of English flour was also finished, and we were then living on
the native M’wele and Metama.
In the afternoon I took a rifle, and, leaving camp, struck in a
northerly direction in search of game. Crossing the thorn forest, I
came out on to a gravelly highland, covered with thorn scrub, and here
and there isolated Morio trees. Underfoot a few small aloes with red
flowers grew in the patches of earth between the blocks of white quartz
plentifully bestrewn everywhere.
The Morio (_Acocanthera Schimperi_) is a curious-looking tree with its
bare stem, averaging about six feet in height, formed of several thin
stems twisted round each other after the manner of a vine. Surmounting
the bare stem is a spherical crown of leaves, giving it the appearance
of those little toy trees supplied to children in Noah’s arks. It has
a small leaf and small pink-and-white flowers, which have a delightful
scent. The A’kikuyu and Wa’Ndorobo use the distilled sap of the roots
for poisoning their arrows. It is also used by the Somalis for that
purpose combined with the sap of another variety of the same species
(_Acocanthera Ouabaio_) which grows in the Arl mountains of northern
Somaliland. The resultant poison is the celebrated “Wabaio” of the
Somalis. No other plant or tree will grow near the Morio, consequently
they are met with only in little groups or as isolated specimens.
About two miles from camp I reached a small stony hill. On the summit
I discovered a small rudely constructed fort, built of flat stones,
containing small huts of stone roofed with brushwood. It faced to the
north, and I afterwards found that it was used by the A’kikuyu as a
watch-tower when expecting a Rendili raid. From the top of this fort
I obtained a good view of the surrounding country. To the north the
ground sloped away in a long incline to the Waso Nyiro, the bed of
which lies more than a thousand feet lower than M’thara at the point in
its course due north at that place. Beyond the Guaso Nyiro showed dimly
the shadowy outlines of Mounts Lololokwe and Wargasse, 7750 feet and
10,830 feet in height respectively. Further away to the north and east
lay the desolate sandy wastes of Samburu or Galla-land.
To the north-east beyond the Doenyo lol Deika (a hog-backed ridge 6200
feet above sea-level) the great plateau of Lykipia stretched as far
as the highlands of Kamasia and Elgeyo. At the foot of the Kamasia
highlands lies Lake Baringo, distant a hundred and twenty miles,
the southern end of which is inhabited by the Wakwafi of Nyemps.
Fifteen miles south of Baringo is Lake Hannington, discovered by,
and named after, the late Bishop Hannington, who was murdered by the
natives of Usoga in 1885. The water of this lake is lukewarm, and,
being impregnated with mineral salts, is very bitter. The Lykipia
Plateau is terminated on the north by the Loroghi Mountains, and on
its eastern side by the Elgeyo escarpment, which, together with its
southern continuation, the Mau escarpment, forms part of the eastern
wall of the great “fault” in the earth’s crust which extends from the
sea of Galilee, over 33° north of the Equator, down the valley of the
Jordan, thence down the Red Sea, and southward through North-Eastern
Africa to Lake Tanganyika, 10° south of the line, and which is known to
geographers as the Great Rift Valley.
South-west of my point of vantage rose the lofty peak of Kenia, veiled
as usual by its curtain of cloud. To the south-east, and on the eastern
side of Kenia, lay the route we had just traversed, extending through
M’thara, Munithu, Zura, Moravi, Igani, Wuimbe, Zuka, and M’bu back to
Maranga on the Tana River. The first stage of our journey was safely
accomplished. Who could tell what Fate had in store for us in the
unknown regions to the northward?
On the way out I met with no game, but on my return I saw two or three
impala antelopes, at which I could not get a shot, chiefly owing to the
noise I unavoidably made in approaching them over loose pebbles and
quartz blocks. I returned to camp unsuccessful in consequence.
We learnt from George that during our absence at Munithu one of the
donkeys had fallen sick and died. When El Hakim asked where the carcase
was, George told us that our Wakamba porters had _eaten_ it. They
did not ask for permission to do so, possibly because they feared the
ridicule of the “M’sungu,” but the same night, when all was still in
camp, they sneaked out one by one, and, cutting up the carcase, brought
it into camp and cooked and devoured it during the night. It became a
standing joke against them with the rest of the safari, who at once
nicknamed them “Fisis” (hyenas) for the remainder of the trip. When
any of the Swahili porters felt particularly jocular, they would sing
out, “Nani amakula punda?” (Who ate the donkey?) which earnest inquiry
would be immediately answered by a ringing shout from the rest of the
Swahilis, “Wakamba fisi” (the Wakamba hyenas), followed by a shout of
laughter, accompanied by cat-calls. The Wakamba themselves would smile
a contented, cheerful smile, and think lovingly of the magnificent
gorge they had enjoyed, and, I believe, rather pitied the Swahilis for
their fastidious prejudices.
The morning after our arrival from Munithu, the Somalis returned from
their sojourn in Chanjai, where they had been purchasing food. They
intended to start from the Waso Nyiro on the following day, and, as
we had expected, absolutely refused to entertain the idea of another
expedition into Embe. I concluded a little “deal” with Ismail during
the morning, exchanging twenty cartridges for a little coarse salt.
Just before noon I went out alone with the 20-bore shot-gun, with the
intention of shooting guinea-fowl for the pot. I wore rubber shoes, and
in jumping a stream, strained my instep badly. The pain was severe, but
I tried to walk it off. I got into the thick forest between our camp
and M’thara, but saw no birds. Noiselessly threading my way along a
narrow game-track, while on the look-out for partridges, I suddenly
saw a large brown mass looming through the openings of the foliage.
Only small patches of it were now and again visible, and, as I had not
the least idea what it was, I cautiously crept closer in order to get
a better view. It was quite stationary, and at first I thought it was
a large hut, though what it was doing there I could not imagine. I
cautiously approached to within ten yards, and then halted and watched.
Suddenly the mass moved, a low rumbling noise was heard, and then an
enormous head swung into my field of vision, flanked by vast outspread
ears and a pair of magnificent tusks. There I stood gazing straight
into the face of the largest bull elephant I had ever seen, with only a
20-bore shot-gun and No. 6 shot with me! After a few seconds’ suspense
I regained the use of my scattered faculties, and it immediately
occurred to me that this particular part of the forest was not a good
place for guinea-fowl, and at once decided to look somewhere else. I am
modest by nature, and deprecate ostentation; therefore I made as little
noise as possible on my backward journey—at least till I was quite a
quarter of a mile from the elephant. I did not wish to alarm him. I
took the bearings of the place, and limped back to camp for a rifle.
El Hakim immediately went back with me, but we could not find the
elephant. He had evidently winded me on my first visit, and retreated
into the deeper recesses of the thorn forest.
On my return to Cairo, I happened to mention this encounter with the
elephant to an American friend of mine. He listened with a twinkle in
his eye, and remarked, “Why, if that isn’t strange! Do you know, ’most
the same thing happened to me last Fall; when I was huntin’ in the
Rockies with my brother. We had gone out pretty early one morning to
try and shoot a few by-ids. After a smart tramp along the river-bank,
through a lot of bushes, we were pulled up with a jerk, as, on coming
round a tree, we spotted an old grizzly b’ar reared up on his hind
legs, feedin’ on something in the bushes. As we were only loaded for
by-ids, we drew back and watched him. Pretty soon ‘old grizzly’ turned
around and looked us straight in the face. My brother thought it must
be nearly breakfast-time, so we started for our camp on the run! As we
dodged among the bush we could hear the pit-pat of the grizzly’s feet
in our rear, and I tell you we ran good and hard. Presently the sound
of pursuing footsteps grew fainter and fainter, and, taking a quick
look round, durned if ‘old grizzly’ wasn’t runnin’ hard’s he could the
other way! What?”
FOOTNOTES:
[6] The sap of this wood possesses certain stimulating qualities,
and is extensively chewed by the natives of North Kenia. I tried it
afterwards, and found it of a somewhat peppery flavour. Its effect upon
me was rather nauseating, and it afterwards gave me a slight headache.