DOWN THE RIVER. 



places it offers either mysterious thickets, spacious 

 cathedrals, or snug bowers. Immediately be- 

 yond the edge of this river jungle begins the 

 thorn scrub, more or less dense. Distant single 

 mountains or buttes serve as landmarks in a 

 brush-grown, gently rising, strongly rolling 

 country. Occasional alluvial flats draw back 

 to low cliffs not over twenty feet high. 



After the junction of the Tsavo, palms of 

 various sorts replace to a large extent the forest 

 trees. Naturally also the stream widens and 

 flows more slowly. Outside the palms grow 

 tall elephant-grass and bush. Our marching had 

 generally to be done in the narrow, neutral space 

 between these two growths. It was pleasant 

 enough, with the river snatching at the trailing 

 branches, and the birds and animals rustling 

 away. Beyond the elephant-grass flats low 

 ridges ran down to the river, varying in width, 

 but carrying always with them the dense thorn. 

 Between them ran recesses, sometimes three or 

 four hundred acres in extent, high with elephant- 

 grass or little trees like alders. So much for the 

 immediate prospect on our right as we marched. 

 Across the river to our left were huge riven 

 mountains, with great cliffs and canons. As we 

 followed necessarily every twist and turn of the 



