A TWELFTH ON THE EQUATOR 
49 
our way, nothing more was seen. The grilling we 
endured in that noontide-hour’s hunt! Vertical rocks 
reflected an accumulated heat in that deep gorge that 
was well-nigh suffocating. Thermometers are useless. 
The point reached that night we named Equator 
Camp, believing that that geographical symbol passed 
between our two tents. Perhaps it did—certainly it 
ran within a few yards. 
These four days we had shot no game, and a gazelle 
( granti , doe) killed this evening came as a perfect 
godsend to the commissariat. Note that a certain 
proportion of tinned meat should always be carried for 
occasions such as these. Strict supervision, moreover, 
must be exercised over the black cook, otherwise he will 
recklessly use up these emergency reserves on days when 
there is plenty of fresh meat at hand. In most camps 
game is superabundant; but there are long marches and 
gameless stretches for which a reserve of tinned stuff, 
such as “ army rations,” should always be provided. 
To-night, the diary records, we “ dined sumptuously.” 
The local Masai, friendly yet finely independent, had 
refused to trade us a single sheep, or to hire out some of 
their sturdy donkeys, that would have served us well for 
transport. Their reasons are intelligible enough. The 
habits of these naked savages, living solely on meat, 
milk and blood, needing neither cloth, beads, wire nor 
anything we could give them, left no medium of exchange. 
True, they came daily into our camps for medicine and 
medical advice, but that they expected for nothing— 
which, it is probable, was about the par value of any 
such advice we could give. 
We visited one of their kraals, strongly stockaded, to 
inquire the way to the Molo. A score of Masai came out 
to meet us, each carrying his spear. The chief, an old 
man, grizzled, reserved and self-possessed, was a splendid 
savage, standing some seven feet high. In reply to 
our questions he knelt down, and, by patting the ground 
with his hand, indicated the direction we should follow. 
In August flights of Egyptian geese and pelicans are 
