A Thousand Miles in a Machilla 



bridged by three poles loosely tied together, and 

 across these I pushed myself, assisted by Franco 



and "Cooky," and encouraged by A , who was 



sitting on the far bank enjoying the scene. The 

 position was not altogether a pleasant one, for the 

 water was swirling past just below my feet, and 

 ten yards farther on there was a fall and a deep 

 pool. I was thankful to be safely across. 



Natives are not troubled with nerves, and the 

 porters made no fuss crossing with their loads. 

 The little goat came over by himself. 



We lunched on the far bank under a tree, while 

 Roberti was sent back to assist Maso over, he 

 being about half an hour behind. After traversing 

 a wide plain we camped in a wood a mile from the 

 river. 



The road, as I have mentioned, was in bad order, 

 so that it was not until we reached the post-road 

 three hours short of Broken Hill that our teams 

 were able to materially increase their speed. Of 

 all the "hungry" roads this was the "hungriest" 

 — there was simply nothing. We passed but few 

 villages, and these were denuded of food supplies. 

 For ourselves we could only rarely purchase a fowl 

 or a few eggs. Fortunately the obliging manager 

 of the A.L.C. store at Broken Hill, to whom we 

 had written from Mpika, sent us out a couple 

 of runners with some much appreciated stores. 

 For the men there was practically no grain, an 

 occasional small bowl of flour to keep the servants 

 alive was all that was procurable. They all, with 

 the exception of John, Franco, and " Cooky " and his 



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