CH. XV] NIMULE TO GOXDOKO]{0 433 



crouched by the tiller, steering the boat ; and gradually, 

 as the moon shone on the swift, quiet water of the river, 

 his crooning turned into a regular song. His voice was 

 beautiful, and there was a wild, meaningless refrain to 

 each verse, the verses reciting how he intended to write 

 this letter to those whom he had not seen for two years ; 

 how a friend would take it to them, so that the letter 

 would be in Mombasa : but he, the man who wrote it, 

 would for two years more be in the far-off wilderness. 



On February 17 the long line of our laden safari 

 left Ninuile on its ten days' march to Gondokoro. We 

 went through a barren and thirsty land. Our first camp 

 was by a shallow, running river, with a shaded pool, in 

 which we bathed. After that we never came on running 

 water, merely on dry watercourses wdth pools here and 

 there, some of the pools being crowded with fish. Tall, 

 half-burnt grass and scattered, well-nigh leafless thorn- 

 scrub covered the monotonous landscape, although we 

 could generally find some fairly leafy tree near which to 

 pitch the tents. The heat was great ; more than once 

 the thermometer at noon rose to 112° in the shade — not 

 real shade, however, but in a stifling tent, or beneath a 

 tree the foliage of which let through at least a third of 

 the sun-rays. The fiery heat of the ground so burnt and 

 crippled the feet of the porters that we had to start each 

 day's march very early. 



At a quarter to three in the morning the whistle blew. 

 We dressed and breakfasted while the tents were taken 

 down and the loads adjusted ; then off we strode through 

 the hot starlit night, our backs to the Southern Cross 

 and oiu* faces toward the Great Bear, for we were 

 marching northward and homeward. The drum 

 throbbed and muttered as we walked on and on along 

 the dim trail. At last the stars began to pale, the grey 



