2o6 THE RETURN MARCH part ii 



had been seriously injured by a rhinoceros, and was on his 

 way back to Kibwezi for medical treatment. Mr. Dick, with 

 whom I had at one time arranged to travel up to Baringo, had 

 gone off to trade with the Wa-kamba, and had died in a camp 

 beside the Athi, a few days' march away. Edmonds, the last 

 man I had seen when leaving the coast, and who had come 

 with me for two days to nurse me on the way, had also fallen 

 a victim to fever. Watson and Charters had both been so 

 seriously ill at Kibwezi that their faith in its healthiness was 

 shaken. A message had just come up from Mombasa to 

 announce a terrible loss to East Africa — the death of Sir 

 William Mackinnon. 



Dr. Charters showed me over the farm, and I was sorry to 

 see that the experiments with the grains and vines had not been 

 very successful. American maize had answered fairly well, but 

 wheat, oats, and barley had failed. The " quick -growing" 

 Russian maize had not grown at all. In a country with such 

 rapid variations between the extremes of excessive rain and 

 drought, the quickly-ripening cereals are the most promising, 

 and the failure of this experiment was especially disappointing. 



My kind hosts here were not surprised that I had had trouble 

 at Naivasha, for two Masai boys then living at Kibwezi had 

 told them that an attack had been planned on the powerful 

 caravan of the Railway Survey. The attack was only aban- 

 doned when it was found that the expedition included four 

 Europeans and an escort of Sikhs. 



After leaving Kibwezi a double march or " telekeza " took 

 us to the Kambu river. We left this at midnight, and at 

 dawn reached a hill known as Ndawi ; shortly afterwards we 

 passed our old camp at Mtoto wa Ande. Here a deep well 

 had been sunk ; but it was quite dry. It never had contained 

 a drop of water, and it looked as if it never would, except 

 when the stream beside it was flooded. So on the principle 

 of the Englishman in Madrid, who poured some water that was 

 offered him into the Mazanares, as the river needed it more 

 than he did, I emptied my flask into the well as a christening. 

 But the proceeding was not purely ceremonial. My boy had 

 forgotten to boil the water, so, after the few hours' exposure in 

 the sun, it was stinking. 



At this point we entered the splendid road then being 



