Ascent of Kilima Njaro, 409 
while the Wanika sank lower and lower. It was a 
wretched day to those of us who made the best of it, 
but to the rest it was unmitigated misery. The night 
was still more wretched ; Egyptian gloom prevailed ; 
the kuanga called out again for his tail, and spat 
out his resentment upon the treacherous kuhi ; the 
rain fell with pattering sound overhead ; there was the 
incessant splash, splash of the dripping forest below ; 
our fires hissed while they burned, and threw a ghastly 
glare upon the gaunt and goblin forms by which we 
were surrounded, just serving to make darkness 
visible ; " otherwise all was as still as death, and as 
dark as the grave. I dreamed in the night that I had 
reached the top of the mountain— what mockery! 
Towards morning my heart leapt, for a star actually 
peeped at us through the trees, and I hoped it was 
going to clear up, but day broke as foggy and wet as 
ever. Marondo offered to go forward, but he observed, 
" We shall not survive it." Of the Wachaga I had 
not much fear, but the Wanika were already half 
dead. Fortune was against me ; so, after waiting a 
few hours, hoping against hope for better weather, 
I ordered a retreat. 
Following the path we had opened up for ourselves 
two days before, all went on well till we reached the 
verge of the forest, when the same cat-like stillness 
was maintained as had been observed on our way up. 
The Wachaga led the way. Strange footsteps were 
noticed in the path, at which the men quickened their 
pace. Then, drawing their short swords, they rushed 
out into the open space. Coming up to them, I found 
a strange woman amongst them, whom they were 
hurriedly questioning in whispers. The next moment 
