TO THE KEDONG 



"Directly on the other side of Suswa," Cun- 

 inghame told me, "there is a 'pan' of hard clay. 

 This rain will fill it; and we shall find water there. 

 We can take a night's rest, and set off comfortably 

 in the morning." 



So the rain that had soaked us so thoroughly was 

 a blessing after all. While we were cooking supper 

 the wagon passed us, its wheels and frame creaking, 

 its great whip cracking like a rifle, its men shrieking 

 at the imperturbable team of eighteen oxen. It 

 would travel until the oxen wanted to graze, or 

 sleep, or scratch an ear, or meditate on why is a 

 Kikuyu. Thereupon they would be outspanned and 

 allowed to do it, whatever it was, until they were 

 ready to go on again. Then they would go on. 

 These sequences might take place at any time of 

 the day or night, and for greater or lesser intervals 

 of time. That was distinctly up to the oxen; the 

 human beings had mighty little to say in the matter. 

 But transport riding, from the point of view of the 

 rank outsider, really deserves a chapter of its own. 



269 



