TO LAKE NAIVASHA 
209 
left the tree-clad mountain side hung above us; ravines, 
with mimosas clustering in them, sundered the foot-hills, 
and wound until they joined into what looked like rivers; 
the thick grass grew waist high. It looked like a well- 
watered country; but it was of porous, volcanic nature, and 
the soil was a sieve. After nightfall we came to where we 
hoped to find water; but there was not a drop in the dried 
pools; and we had to make a waterless camp. A drizzling 
rain had set in, enough to wet everything, but not enough 
to give any water for drinking. It was eight o’clock before 
the last of the weary, thirsty burden-carriers stumbled 
through the black, bowlder-strewn ravine on whose farther 
side we were camped, and threw down his load among his 
fellows, who were already clustered around the little fires 
they had started in the tall grass. We slept as we were, and 
comfortably enough; indeed, there was no hardship for 
us white men, with our heavy overcoats, and our food and 
water—which we shared with our personal attendants; 
but I was uneasy for the porters, as there was another long 
and exhausting day’s march ahead. Before sunrise we 
started; and four hours later, in the bottom of a deep 
ravine, Cuninghame found a pool of green water in a 
scooped-out cavity in the rock. It was a pleasant sight 
to see the thirsty porters drink. Then they sat down, built 
fires and boiled their food; and went on in good heart. 
Two or three times we crossed singularly beautiful 
ravines, the trail winding through narrow clefts that were 
almost tunnels, and along the brinks of sheer cliffs, while 
the green mat of trees and vines was spangled with many 
colored flowers. Then we came to barren ridges and bare, 
dusty plains; and at nightfall pitched camp near the shores 
