XXXVI 



ACROSS THE THIRST 



WE were off a bright, clear day after the rains. 

 Suswa hung grayish pink against the bluest 

 of skies. Our way slanted across the Rift Valley 

 to her base; turned the corner, and continued on 

 the other side of the great peak until we had reached 

 the rainwater "pan" on her farther side. It was a 

 long march. 



The plains were very wide and roomy. Here and 

 there on them rose many small cones and craters, 

 lava flows and other varied evidences of recent 

 volcanic activity. Geologically recent, I mean. 

 The grasses of the flowing plains were very brown, 

 and the molehill craters very dark; the larger craters 

 blasted and austere; the higher escarpment in the 

 background blue with a solemn distance. The sizes 

 of things were not originally fitted out for little 

 tiny people like human beings. We walked hours 

 to reach landmarks apparently only a few miles 

 away. 



In this manner we plodded along industriously un- 



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