A MARCH ALONG THE COAST. 115 



occasional halts greatly refreshed us for more of 

 that endless road. 



For all this time we were very hot. As the 

 sun mounted, the country fairly steamed. From 

 the end of my rifle barrel, which I carried across 

 my forearm, a steady trickle of water dripped 

 into the road. We neither of us had a dry stitch 

 on us, and our light garments clung to us thor- 

 oughly wet through. At first we tried the mili- 

 tary method, and marched fifty minutes to rest 

 ten, but soon discovered that twenty-five minutes' 

 work to five minutes off was more practical. The 

 sheer weight of the sun was terrific ; after we 

 had been exposed to it for any great length of 

 time as across several wide open spaces we 

 entered the steaming shade of the jungle with 

 gratitude. At the end of seven hours, however, 

 we most unexpectedly came through a dense 

 cocoanut grove plump on the banks of the har- 

 bour at Kilindini. 



Here, after making arrangements for the trans- 

 port of our safari, when it should arrive, we en- 

 trusted ourselves to a small boy and a cranky 

 boat. An hour later, clad in tropical white, with 

 cool drinks at our elbows, we sat in easy-chairs on 

 the veranda of the Mombasa Club. 



The clubhouse is built on a low cliff at the 



