AMONG THE DUCKS. Kil 



summer, when the lake is a mass of black mud. must be 



almost ugly. But, vara avis in the Salt Range, a little 



spring of cold sweet water runs out of the hill above us. 



to winch I suspect the trees and verdure owe their origin. 



There is, or rather was, a little boat on the lake, but in 



a sad state of repair. Alan tried to launch it yesterday, 



but several planks were missing and it filled with water. 



This was provoking, for the ducks remain masters of the 



situation. They are as wary as deer, and never leave the 



lake by day, taking care to keep just out of shot from the 



shore. If frightened they flutter to the middle of the lake, 



where, without a boat, they cannot be disturbed. The 



only way of getting a few is to wade through the mud at 



daybreak, when two or three late birds rise in flurried 



fashion out of the rushes within shot. Alan gave orders 



overnight to have the boat repaired, and we went down 



this morning to see it launched. Most of the villagers 



also assisted. Bushes and stones were laid down to make 



a pier, a path cut through the reeds, and more reeds put 



into the boat to form a screen from the ducks. The crowd 



gave an applauding murmur as Alan stepped in, and the 



boat was shoved off. "Stanley launching the first boat 



on Lake Victoria," was the least you would have imagined 



the occasion to have been, had you suddenly come round 



the corner on the group. But the speed with which he 



was shot out, was more than ecpialled by the haste with 



M 



