In Wildest Africa -»> 



its lowest parts the waters collect and form the western 

 Njiri marshes, which at some seasons of the year are 

 almost dry. Volcanic hills arise here and there on the 

 plain, from whose summits one can obtain a wide view. 

 One of the most prominent of these hills has a cavity at 

 its summit. It is evidently the crater of an extinct volcano 

 which is filled with water, like the volcanic lakes of my 

 native Eifel district. A thicket begins not far from this 

 hill, and gradually extends until it merges into the forest 

 beyond. The burning sun has dried up all the grass up 

 to the edge of the thicket. There is so little rain here 

 that the poor Xerophites are the only exception that can 

 stand the drought. Only on the inner walls of the steep 

 crater do bushes and shrubs grow, for these are only 

 exposed at midday to the sun's heat. 



Thus a cool moisture pervades this hollow except 

 during the very hottest season. Paths, trodden down by 

 crowds of game, lead to the shining mirror of the little 

 lake. It used to be the haunt of beasts of prey, and 

 the smaller animals would probably seek drinking-places 

 miles distant rather than come to this grim declivity. 

 There is, however, a kind of road leading to the summit 

 of this hill, a very uneven road, wide at first, then gradually 

 narrower and narrower, which had become almost im- 

 passable with grass and brushwood when I made my way 

 up. This road was trodden by the cattle herds of the 

 Masai. It may be that rhinoceroses and elephants were 

 the original makers of it before the warlike shepherds 

 began to lead their thirsty cattle to this secluded lake. 

 Be this as it may, my Masai friends assured me that they 



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