WITH FLASH-LIGHT AND RIFLE 



had secured the cows from a chief in Mumia, near the 

 Victoria Nyanza, giving a few old suits of clothes for 

 them, as I was in dire need of fresh milk, having just 

 recovered from a severe attack of fever. The zebu 

 cows — which, by-the-way, come from India, as there 

 are no African cattle — can mostly be milked only after 

 the calves have drawn some milk. 



Rain and storm pass off, but the dampness remains, 

 causing sickness among the carriers, who can hardly 

 endure the cold, damp air. Clouds obscure the sky for 

 many days after the storm, and the caravan marches 

 through wet grass often reaching above the heads of 

 the men. Everything we touch is soaked with moisture 

 and the food becomes mouldy. Fever germs have a 

 fine chance to put in their best work, and many men 

 are on the sick-list for days or weeks. 



East Africa, we see, is a country of sharp contrasts. 

 At one time the traveller is in danger of dying from lack 

 of water, at another time he runs the risk of being 

 drowned in it. 



Sometimes the object of a journey is defeated by lack 

 of information or by inaccurate intelligence, as I had 

 occasion to learn when, in 1899, I made a short journey 

 from Pangani into Useguha in order to hunt buffaloes. 

 I was told they were plentiful there, although I had 

 my doubts, as the coast districts of German East Africa 

 had been visited that year by a severe famine. These 

 famines, which are caused by droughts and locusts, 



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