XXVI 

 JUJA 



MOST people have heard of Juja, the modern 

 dwelling in the heart of an African wilderness, 

 belonging to our own countryman, Mr. W. N. 

 McMillan. If most people are as I was before I 

 saw the place, they have considerable curiosity and 

 no knowledge of what it is and how it looks. 



We came to Juja at the end of a wide circle that 

 had lasted three months, and was now bringing us 

 back again toward our starting point. For five 

 days we had been camped on top a high bluff at the 

 junction of two rivers. When we moved we dropped 

 down the bluff, crossed one river, and, after some 

 searching, found our way up the other bluff. There 

 we were on a vast plain bounded by mountains 

 thirty miles away. A large white and unexpected 

 sign told us we were on Juja Farm, and warned us 

 that we should be careful of our fires in the long 

 grass. 



For an hour we plodded slowly along. Herds of 

 zebra and hartebeeste drew aside before us, dark 



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