28 UNDER THE AFRICAN SUN 



sour and is spoiled ; and unless the quantity of milk fills the 

 bottle completely, the shaking for some hours along the march 

 churns the milk into butter. Only a confirmed drunkard 

 would be so rash as to keep pegging at whisky when marching 

 along. 



Caravans follow in single file the " kiangozi " or " guide." 

 Now that there is an open road from Mombasa to Kampala, 

 the guide is no longer required ; but on my first and second 

 journeys the ** kiangozi " was an important personage. Every- 

 thing, however, depends on the caravan-leader. While there is 

 danger ahead, he should be the foremost, and where a treacherous 

 foe lies in ambush to cut off stragglers, he should be the last 

 man in the caravan and prevent loiterers from separating from 

 the main body. 



On my fourth journey we had a narrow escape from falling 

 into the hands of Mbaruk, the rebel Arab, who for a time 

 rendered the road between Ndi and IMazera's unsafe. An armed 

 escort was sent by Government at stated times to meet caravans, 

 and we had just missed by a day such escort. We marched day 

 and night till the porters were walking along half-asleep, and 

 at last I had to let them lie down for a while. They dropped in- 

 stantly asleep in the middle of the road by the side of their loads. 

 But being the caravan-leader, the responsibility for the general 

 safety enabled me to remain awake, with loaded rifle and finger 

 on trigger, taking upon myself the anxious watch, as I could not 

 have trusted any of my men to keep awake. It was only for a 

 couple of hours, but each minute seemed to drag into an eter- 

 nity. Then I roused the men, and we hurried on. Half-an-hour 

 later Mbaruk's bands crossed the very spot, where I had been 

 compelled to let the cam van rest and snatch their short sleep. 



The caravan-porter is a careless being, and even the know- 

 ledge that a treacherous enemy may be hiding in the bush close 

 by does not keep him awake. One of the mission-caravans 

 thus exposed itself to massacre. It was in 1895, and I was then 

 at Mumia's in Kavirondo. The men who had been told ofif 

 as night-watchmen fell asleep. The hostile savages suddenly 

 rushed with their spears upon the sleepers and killed most 

 of them on the spot. A few survivors escaped and reached 

 Mumia's. I had to dress their wounds. One man had his scalp 

 slashed open and a flap of it hanging down, he had also a deep 

 punctured wound in the nape of the neck, his thigh was pierced 



