CHAPTER VII. 



THE RIVER OF THE PLAINS. 



T"*HE cold mountain torrents coming down from the Nguzeru mountainous 

 regions, and the clear snow-fed streams of Kenya, both pass through the 

 hilly Kikuyuland before wending out on to the open plains. Where they first 

 join the plains they cut deep nullahs and gorges, which afterwards give place to 

 shallow valleys, on the banks of which grow a characteristic yellow-barked thorn-tree. 

 In the upper gorges, however, the streams seem to have carried down with them to 

 the plains some of their mountain vegetation, for massive forest and mountain trees 

 grow on the banks, and a tangled belt of thick growth bars the approach to .the river. 



If you force a way through this thick vegetation to the banks of the stream you 

 are at once transported into a world totally different from the arid and treeless plains 

 a few yards back on either hand. By the river edge is cool shade and restful green, 

 doubly welcome after the aching glare of the plains, whilst the swirling and bubbling 

 of the stream is pleasant to listen to. The dead trunks of forest giants lie just as 

 they fell, blocking the stream or forming natural bridges across it. Fish are 

 plentiful, and many a pleasant day may be spent with rod and fly, or even with hook 

 and string for that matter. 



As your hearing grows accustomed to the swirl of the stream, a great quietude 

 and peace seems to reign over the water-side, and this is all the more noticeable 

 because the noise of the rushing torrent really drowns all minor sounds. Every now 

 and then a pattering among the dead leaves lying on the banks breaks the stillness, 

 as some little duiker, dikdik, or bird searches for berries fallen from overhead, or 

 nibbles at the seed-pods which strew the ground. Then the patters die away into the 

 distance, and all is quiet again. 



This seeming hush is suddenly broken by loud chatterings and barkings, and 

 violent rustlings and clashings of branches, drawing nearer and nearer till they 

 pass overhead, and soon a baboon runs out to the end of a branch, bending 

 beneath its weight, and hurls itself across the river into the midst of the thick 

 branches on the opposite bank. These it nimbly catches and swings aloft into 

 the tree, and runs down a big branch to the trunk. Then come after it a 

 whole troop of baboons, large and small, throwing themselves recklessly across. 



