HUNTING AND HUNTED IN BELGIAN CONGO 



Lake Victoria Nyanza is hidden from us as we stand 

 near the pier by the lofty and well-timbered headlands 

 close by. 



Shortly before my arrival at Jinja the ceremony of 

 cutting the first sod of the Jinja-Kakindu railway had 

 taken place, and the residents, both European and 

 coloured, were naturally eagerly awaiting the opening 

 of the first line of railway in Uganda. Although the line 

 running from Mombasa to Port Florence is styled the 

 Uganda Railway, before the building of the line that 

 I have mentioned there was not a mile of railway in 

 Uganda, with the exception of a mono-rail from Kampala 

 Port to Kampala, a distance of some seven miles; but 

 the working of this is so erratic that it may be left out of 

 the question as a means of transport for either passenger 

 or goods traffic. 



My journey to Port Florence was not very enjoyable, 

 for I was suffering from fever again, and was heartily 

 glad to leave the boat. Only those who have been away 

 from civilization for a time can understand what a delight 

 it was to return. A good bed, well cooked and appetising 

 food, the pleasure of seeing white faces and enjoying a 

 chat in one's native tongue, all added to my pleasure in 

 reaching the beaten track again. Even the deafening 

 whistle of the engine on the train at Port Florence 

 was a joy to me after my long absence from the outer 

 world. 



Of the journey to Mombasa I have little to say. 

 Herds of antelope, buck, zebra, occasional bunches of 

 giraffe and buffalo, gazed on the train as we sped past 

 from the lake down the 600-mile iron road that forms 

 the most wonderful and intensely interesting railway 

 journey imaginable. At Nairobi I was greeted by man)' 

 friends who were anxious to hear a full account of my 

 travels, and pressing invitations were given me to stay 

 with many friends, but fever had for the time being 



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