234 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES. 



watercourses, might not prove empty. We pushed 

 on the more rapidly. Then we caught a glimpse, 

 through a chance opening, of the tops of trees 

 below us. After another hour we suddenly 

 burst from the scrub to a strip of green grass 

 beyond which were the great trees, the palms, and 

 the festooned vines of a watercourse. Two 

 bush bucks plunged into the thicket as we ap- 

 proached, and fifteen or twenty mongooses sat 

 up as straight and stiff as so many picket pins 

 the better to see us. 



For a moment my heart sank. The low under- 

 growth beneath the trees apparently swept un- 

 broken from where we stood to the low bank 

 opposite. It was exactly like the shallow, damp, 

 but waterless ravines at home, filled with black- 

 berry vines. We pushed forward, however, and 

 found ourselves looking down on a smooth, swift 

 flowing stream. 



It was not over six feet wide, grown close 

 with vines and grasses, but so very deep and 

 swift and quiet that an extraordinary volume of 

 water passed, as through an artificial aqueduct. 

 Furthermore, unlike most African streams, it was 

 crystal clear. We plunged our faces and wrists 

 in it, and took long, thankful draughts. It was 

 all most grateful after the scorching desert. The 



