TSAVO REVISITED 



II 



The old romantic caravan road is, alas, used 

 no more, and is practically obliterated with jungle 

 growth. The site of my old palm hut and bonia 

 (enclosure) would be difficult to find, owing to the 

 dense undergrowth which has enveloped everything 

 in its tangled embrace. The river, always fresh and 

 cool, with its palm-bordered fringe of emerald green, 



"the more placid and beautiful SIKETCHES OF WATER." 



runs merrily as ever, the rapids on the up-stream 

 side of the bridge rushing noisily onward to the 

 more placid and beautiful stretches of water 

 which murmur gently the song of the Tsavo on its 

 way to the sea. The bridge, too, stands out as 

 clear as ever, and it can be imagined that I looked 

 upon it once again with no litde interest, remember- 



