XII A NIGHT AFTER HIPPO 133 
and ends. On these occasions I usually took no 
tent, but bivouacked in the open. We took some 
bread and a few tinned provisions with us, but I 
could always depend upon getting a faa, guinea- 
fowl, partridge or rock-rabbit for the larder on the 
march. These rock-rabbits are more like big rats 
than rabbits, and are found in great numbers among 
the rocks along the banks of the rivers. They are 
not at all bad eating, but the Swahili will not touch 
them. They call them ¢wfu (shameless, naked 
things), owing to their lack of a tail, of which indeed 
they possess not even a vestige. 
Our route lay by the always interesting Tsavo 
River. Along the banks everything within reach of 
its moisture is delightfully fresh and green. Palms 
and other trees, festooned with brilliant flowering 
creepers, flourish along its course; all kinds of 
monkeys chatter and jabber in the shade overhead 
as they swing themselves from branch to branch, 
while birds of the most gorgeous plumage flutter 
about, giving a very tropical aspect to the scene. 
On the other hand, if one is tempted to stray away 
from the river, be it only for a few yards, one comes 
immediately into the parched, thorny wilderness of 
stunted, leafless trees. Here the sun beats down 
pitilessly, and makes the zyzka of the Tsavo valley 
almost intolerable. The river has its source at the 
foot of snow-crowned Kilima N’jaro, whence it 
