THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS 



enough to constitute more than an isolated and 

 lonesome patch. 



Before leaving London we had received from Mc- 

 Millan earnest assurances that he kept open house, 

 and that we must take advantage of his hospitality- 

 should we happen his way. Therefore when one of 

 his white-robed Somalis approached us to inquire 

 respectfully as to what we wanted for dinner, we 

 yielded weakly to the temptation and told him. 

 Then we marched us boldly to the house and took 

 possession. 



All around the house ran a veranda, shaded by 

 bamboo curtains and vines, furnished with the luxu- 

 rious teakwood chairs of the tropics of which you can 

 so extend the arms as to form two comfortable and 

 elevated rests for your feet. Horns of various ani- 

 mals ornamented the walls. A megaphone and 

 a huge terrestrial telescope on a tripod stood in one 

 corner. Through the latter one could examine at 

 favourable times the herds of game on the plains. 



And inside — mind you, we were fresh from three 

 months in the wilderness — we found rugs, pictures, 

 wall paper, a pianola, many books, baths, beautiful 

 white bedrooms with snowy mosquito curtains, 

 electric lights, running water, and above all an at- 

 mosphere of homelike comfort. We fell into easy 

 chairs, and seized books and magazines. The So- 



374 



