THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS 



My single companion and I consulted. It was 

 agreed that I was to push on as rapidly as possible 

 to locate the water, while he was to try to hold the 

 caravan together. Accordingly, Memba Sasa and 

 I marched ahead. We tried to leave a trail to fol- 

 low; and we hoped fervently that our guess as to 

 the stream's course would prove to be a good one. 

 At the end of two hours and a half we found 

 the water — a beautiful jungle-shaded stream 

 — and filled ourselves up therewith. Our duty 

 was accomplished, for we had left a trail to 

 be followed. Nevertheless, I felt I should like to 

 take back our full canteens to relieve the worst 

 cases. Memba Sasa would not hear of it, and 

 even while I was talking to him seized the canteens 

 and disappeared. 



At the end of two hours more camp was made, after 

 a fashion; but still four men had failed to come in. 

 We built a smudge in the hope of guiding them; and 

 gave them up. If they had followed our trail, they 

 should have been in long ago; if they had missed that 

 trail, heaven knows where they were, or where we 

 should go to find them. Dusk was falling, and, to 

 tell the truth, we were both very much done up by a 

 long day at 115 degrees in the shade under an equa- 

 torial sun. The missing men would climb trees 

 away from the beasts, and we would organize a 



58 



