BRITISH EAST AFRICA 219 



appear to understand. Dutch is the lingua 

 franca of the beasts of burden. 



I stayed behind the wagon for some time that 

 morning in order to stalk a small herd of Grant's 

 gazelle. One ram among them appeared to 

 carry an uncommonly fine head, and after much 

 manoeuvring I at last got in a good " end on " 

 shot, and brought him down with a bullet that 

 raked him through from stern to neck. The 

 horns were indeed a prize — beautifully lyrate in 

 shape and substantially longer than those secured 

 two evenings before. Chama, our third gun- 

 bearer, dexterously skinned the head and neck 

 and shouldered the trophies. After an hour's 

 hard tramp I found Burru, my Somali syce, 

 waiting for me alongside the Sotik road with my 

 Abyssinian pony. I mounted and soon caught 

 up with the wagon. 



All day we travelled onwards; onwards and 

 upwards, for we had begun the ascent of the great 

 Mau escarpment — one of those giant corruga- 

 tions that robe the geography of the East African 

 Protectorate in a colossal suit of corduroys. 

 Game became less and less plentiful, and each 

 little valley and donga was as dry as a bone; 

 we were getting into Thirst-land. The porters 

 had been told to fill up all the available canvas 

 water-carriers and bottles at the previous night's 

 camping-place, but with that lack of forethought 

 which is characteristic of the African native, they 

 had omitted to do so. Late in the afternoon 

 they came to us and whined for water. But the 

 supply in the drums on the wagon was very small, 

 and as the next few days' march was an unknown 

 quantity to us, we refused to give them a drop. 

 They had to pay the penalty for their irre- 

 sponsibility, disobedience and laziness with a 



