262 THE LAND OF THE LION 
by Laikipia Boma for eighty miles, to its junction with 
the main stream of that beautiful river. 
Two short marches from Gilgil bring you to the foot 
of the Aberdare, a rocky wall fifteen miles long, on the 
south end 2,000 feet high, on the north, 200. Down its 
front tumble fifteen waterfalls, some taking the steep at 
one bound, others falling sheer a hundred feet and then 
in cascades often hidden by dense brushwood come flashing 
out again into the sun, to fall tumbling to the plain. 
That grim rocky wall, scored with little mountain 
torrents tossing themselves at one bound, or tumbling 
all brokenly down its great steep, is one of the finest things 
in East Africa. 
The level country beneath spreads out into swamp 
land, and in its long wilderness of marsh plants, mud 
banks and secluded lagoons, at the highest elevation in 
the world, are found large herds of hippo. When his 
haunt is near cultivated land the hippo is an unmitigated 
nuisance. He will devour and trample down in one night 
what has taken an unfortunate native months of labour. 
His nocturnal habits make him difficult to destroy. On 
the Athi and Tana rivers, where I shot them, they do 
great harm. The river hippo’s tusk is seldom worth 
taking; he sinks when shot and so, unless you have the 
luck to find him on a sand bank, the crocodiles get him. 
These Embellossett hippo, however, are very large 
indeed, and carry fine tusks. They are so well off in 
their marshes that they seldom come to shore, and a 
collapsible boat would be necessary in order to do anything 
with them. 
While we camped by the marsh we saw no signs of 
the big beasts landing. I saw them on sunny evenings, 
floating lazily along, the great bulk of the shoulder making 
them look like upturned boats, or steadily swimming to 
keep some aquatic appointment, only showing above the 
