286 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES. 



second did he leave off twanging his two strings, 

 nor did he even momentarily relax his attention. 



It was now near sundown. We had been 

 climbing steadily. The train shrieked twice, and 

 unexpectedly slid out to the edge of the Likipia 

 Escarpment. We looked down once more into 

 the great Rift Valley. 



The Rift Valley is as though a strip of Africa 

 extending half the length of the continent 

 had in time past sunk bodily some thousands of 

 feet, leaving a more or less sheer escarpment on 

 either side, and preserving intact its own varie- 

 gated landscape in the bottom. We were on the 

 Likipia Escarpment. We looked across to the 

 Mau Escarpment, where the country over which 

 our train had been travelling continued after its 

 interruption by the valley. And below us were 

 mountains, streams, plains. The westering sun 

 threw strong slants of light down and across. 



The engine shut off its power, and we slid 

 silently down the rather complicated grades and 

 curves of the descent. A noble forest threw its 

 shadows over us. Through the chance openings 

 we caught glimpses of the pale country far below. 

 Across high trestle bridges we rattled, and craned 

 over to see the rushing white water of the moun- 

 tain torrents a hundred feet down. The shriek of 



