Kumba Hill 



a range of iron-stone cliffs with great splendour, 

 and I was loth to get on with my "safari." More 

 hills and mountains, but to-day covered with under- 

 growth and small trees, which, although adding 

 greatly to the effect, made progress along the paths 

 difficult in the extreme. Wild flowers grew 

 in great profusion, and as the general tendency 

 of colour was purple and mauve, blending in 

 varying shades, the tout ensemble was very 

 pleasing to the eye. Occasionally a flood of 

 yellow marigolds raised their long heads among 

 the nestling convolvulus. 



My next camp (Kumba Hill) was really an island 

 rising out of the middle of the Kuesca river, at a 

 point where the confluence of several other streams 

 produces a more or less open space amidst the 

 multitudinous mountains. It was even prettier than 

 the last camp, as one obtained charming glimpses 

 of the more distant ranges, covered in a deep blue 

 haze, which is a frequent feature of these parts. 

 Food was very scarce. I followed up the Kuesca 

 river, and soon arrived at the advanced depot at 

 a place called Bukartsu. Here the natives brought 

 me some yellow substance, which, after being boiled, 

 I discovered to be most excellent honey. I left 

 behind about twenty loads in order to push on as 

 light as possible. My native boy thought I was 

 perfectly mad when I left my table and chair be- 

 hind. I picked up here two Indian Sikhs, who 

 said that they were escort to a hospital assistant, 

 and that all his twenty-five porters had run 



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