Mkushi to Broken Hill 



on the slippery ground was more than the team could 

 manage; the road became a torrent, and further 

 progress impossible. The machillas were put under 

 trees and propped up by forked poles, so that 

 notwithstanding the deluge we kept fairly dry. 

 The men, shivering with cold, got under them or 

 crouched wherever shelter offered itself. The 

 porters soon came up, their loads saturated, and 

 these we stacked under the best available trees. 



To keep the men warm we sent them to cut 

 and collect wood, and by degrees large fires were 

 lit, around which they cowered in comparative 

 comfort. So soon as the weather moderated and 

 it cleared in about two hours "Cooky" set to work 

 and gave us breakfast in our machillas; and by the 

 time we had done eating the sun came out and we 

 were able to continue our journey. It was curious 

 to see how quickly all traces of rain disappeared in 

 the sandy soil of the forest. 



The aspect of the country was unchanged. We 

 passed from forest to dambo and from dambo to 

 forest; the dambos greener, it is true, the forests 

 more in leaf, but otherwise differing in no respect 

 from those we had hitherto traversed. 



The marshes were becoming sodden, and the 

 rivers filling rapidly. The last we had to cross, 

 the Lusenfa, was in flood. In the middle was an 

 island dividing it into two channels. On the near 

 side the channel was broken up by large boulders 

 which acted as stepping-stones, and over these 

 we clambered without difficulty. On the far side, 

 the channel, which was deep and rapid, was 



235 



