38 
FROM ADEN TO MOMBASA. 
As the sun drops down, if you have luck, you may some 
giraffes sidling off through those thorn trees, or, perhaps, a stray 
lion may slink away from the train, for we are rising to the high, 
interior plateau, where begins the greatest Barnum’s show in the 
world. You settle yourself for the night under the blankets you 
bought at a preposterous price, at De Sousa’s. 
The night will be cold in these higher regions and very, very 
dusty—for we pass through the Taru Desert, a rainless tract, where 
the red dust rises and permeates everything you have, leaving a 
STAMPEDE OF AFRICAN GNUS. 
sanguinary hue over you and your belongings, which it will take 
time and patience to remove. 
With the dawn you wake to find the train speeding across the 
Athi plains, a bare, vast tract, where trembling opalescent hues 
clothe the level stretches and the distant encircling mountains with 
splendor. To the right and left are herds of horses and cattle 
scattered over the earth—why no, they’re not; they are zebras and 
antelopes, grazing or frisking about. 
Far away are gnus or wnldebeestes, humpbacked and black. 
Nearer are hartebeestes, hundreds of striped zebras, Thomson 
