154 THE WEST SIDE OF RUWENZORI 



halls, the appearance of Pygmies is doubtless familiar 

 to every one, and it need hardly be remarked that 

 even in the Congo they have not all yet learnt 

 to speak French. 



The path is nearly always as bad as can be — 

 often it is nothing but a succession of fallen trees 

 and muddy elephant-baths ; but there is a subtle 

 fascination about walking through the forest, which 

 increases as the days go by. The best way to 

 feel the forest is to walk far ahead or, as I lazily 

 preferred to do, miles behind the caravan, far beyond 

 the sound of a disturbing gunshot, or of the un- 

 ceasing chatter of the porters. Sometimes there 

 is a sound of crashing through the trees, where 

 a herd of elephants have been disturbed in their 

 siesta ; sometimes a troop of monkeys dash twit- 

 tering through the tree-tops, or huge topheavy- 

 looking hornbills fly overhead screaming uncouth 

 discords ; but more often the silence of the forest 

 is unbroken and complete, and you may walk for 

 miles at a time and not hear a sound or see a 

 sign of living creature. It may be only a result 

 of the half-gloom and one's sense of smallness 

 amid the vast surroundings, or it may be an instinct 

 inherited from prehistoric forest-dwelling ancestors ; 

 but whatever the cause may be, you find yourself 

 walking with unwonted care, and ever on the alert 

 for an unknown something. 



It was only in the infrequent clearings, where we 

 camped, that we realized how immense, compared 



