Bound for Khartoum Once More 



time was on the wing. We camped at night as 

 high as possible, for the sake of the view as well 

 as to steer clear of the mosquito-haunted swamps. 

 But one of the plains we traversed was vast, and 

 the mud had clogged the feet of the tired porters, 

 so chancing upon a clear mountain stream en- 

 closed with shady trees we thought it good 

 enough to stop for the night, at the foot of the 

 last mountain range that barred our progress to 

 the Nile. The crossing of this constituted my 

 last march in the Conoco. 



o 



Breaking camp at 4.0 a.m., it seemed as if a 

 vast extent of country lay buried in eternal 

 sleep ; not the least sound arising from the 

 forest, unless it was the distant and scarcely 

 audible rippling of a watercourse. Birds, beasts, 

 and man alike appeared to slumber, if indeed 

 any human beings were to be found in that 

 wide tract of wilderness. But the sounds of 

 the rivulets, feeble and murmuring though they 

 were, greatly lightened the task of the guides, and 

 towards these they made their way. The moon 

 had already sunk into an immense pile of black 

 clouds, which lay impending above the western 

 horizon, when we issued from the low and devi- 

 ous watercourse to rise ag-ain to the hig-h and 

 level of the sandy but wooded plain. The path 

 soon became more uneven, and we could plainly 

 see that the mountains drew nigh to us on 

 either hand, and that we were in truth entering 



245 



