ONE CANNOT MOVE FAST IN AFRICA. 131 
turned from Berbera, I ordered the camp to be pitched a 
long way from the river, at a village called Goumer, so as 
to avoid fever as much as possible. The camels had suf- 
fered much in their long marches from the Christmas 
camp,—ten of them had died, and the rest were very weak ; 
and to make matters worse, the natives were not willing 
to sell me any of their animals, as I had hoped _ they 
would. 
Fred was daily out after water-buck, — of which there 
were many in the neighborhood,— while I employed my time 
rating my chronometers and in collecting natural-history 
specimens with Dodson. ‘The swarms of tiny insects were 
most annoying, flying in our eyes, covering our papers when 
we attempted to write, and falling in thousands in our food. 
One of these tiny creatures, a little smaller than a lady-bug, 
emitted a most disagreeable odor, — one of them getting 
into our soup making it unfit to eat. I wished to send 
apart of my collection to the coast for shipment to the 
British Museum, as soon as Salan arrived; but there were 
only ninety miserable camels left, including the few that 
remained of the twenty that Fred had taken with him, so | 
would be unable to send more than a few boxes out. 
I found that although we had made eighteen long 
marches, which would average thirteen miles each, since 
we crossed the river by Mt. Kaldash, we had only accom- 
plished one hundred and forty miles in a direct line to 
Bari. What with the twisting and turning to avoid 
natural obstacles, and going out of one’s way for water, 
I should say that a hundred and forty miles a month, in a 
direct line towards a point, represents very good march- 
ing indeed for Africa, when there is a journey of several 
hundred miles ahead of you, and you dare not push 
too hard for fear of losing your camels or donkeys. 
We frequently went to Geledi or Bari to fish, and 
