XLVIII 

 THE LAST TREK 



SOME weeks later we camped high on the slopes 

 of Suswa, the great mountain of the Rift Val- 

 ley, only one day's march from the railroad. After 

 the capture of the kudu Africa still held for us 

 various adventures — a buffalo, a go of fever, and 

 the like — but the culmination had been reached. 

 We had lingered until the latest moment, reluctant 

 to go. Now in the gray dawn we were filing down 

 the slopes of the mountains for the last trek. A low, 

 flowing mist marked the distant Kedong; the flames 

 of an African sunrise were revelling in the eastern 

 skies. All our old friends seemed to be bidding us 

 good-bye. Around the shoulder of the mountains 

 a lion roared, rumble upon rumble. Two hyenas 

 leaped from the grass, ran fifty yards, and turned to 

 look at us. 



"Good-bye, simha! good-bye, ficeT we cried to 

 them sadly. 



A little farther we saw zebra, and the hartebeeste, 

 and the gazelles. One by one appeared and disap- 



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