433 
ch. xv] NIMULE TO GONDOKORO 
crouched by the tiller, steering the boat; and gradually, 
as the moon shone on the swift, quiet water of the river, 
his crooning turned into a regular song. His voice was 
beautiful, and there was a wild, meaningless refrain to 
each verse, the verses reciting how he intended to write 
this letter to those whom he had not seen for two years ; 
how a friend would take it to them, so that the letter 
would be in Mombasa : but he, the man who wrote it, 
would for two years more be in the far-off wilderness. 
On February 17 the long line of our laden safari 
left Nimule on its ten days’ march to Gondokoro. We 
went through a barren and thirsty land. Our first camp 
was by a shallow, running river, with a shaded pool, in 
which we bathed. After that we never came on running 
water, merely on dry watercourses with pools here and 
there, some of the pools being crowded with fish. Tall, 
half-burnt grass and scattered, well-nigh leafless thorn- 
scrub covered the monotonous landscape, although we 
could generally find some fairly leafy tree near which to 
pitch the tents. The heat was great; more than once 
the thermometer at noon rose to 112° in the shade—not 
real shade, however, but in a stifling tent, or beneath a 
tree the foliage of which let through at least a third of 
the sun-rays. The fiery heat of the ground so burnt and 
crippled the feet of the porters that we had to start each 
day’s march very early. 
At a quarter to three in the morning the whistle blew. 
We dressed and breakfasted while the tents were taken 
down and the loads adjusted ; then off we strode through 
the hot starlit night, our backs to the Southern Cross 
and our faces toward the Great Bear, for we were 
marching northward and homeward. The drum 
throbbed and muttered as we walked on and on along 
the dim trail. At last the stars began to pale, the grey 
28 
