312 
THE GUASO NYERO 
[CH. XI 
mouthfuls, between times nervously raising its head and 
looking in every direction, nostrils and ears twitching. 
They were not looking for crocodiles, but for land foes, 
lions or leopards. Each in turn drank, skipping up to 
the top of the bank after a few mouthfuls, and then 
returning to the water. The bull followed with rather 
less caution, and before he had finished drinking the 
cows scurried hurriedly back to the thorn-trees and the 
open country. We had plenty of meat in camp, and I 
had completed my series of this species of waterbuck 
for the Museum ; and 1 was glad there was no need to 
molest them. 
The porters were enjoying the rest and the abundance 
of meat. They were lying about camp, or were scattered 
up and down stream fishing. When, walking back, I 
came to the outskirts of camp, I was attracted by the 
buzzing and twanging of the harp; there was the 
harper and two friends, all three singing to his accom¬ 
paniment. I called “ Yambo !” (greeting), and they 
grinned and stood up, shouting “ Yambo!” in return. 
In camp a dozen men were still at work at the giraffe 
skin, and they were all singing loudly, under the lead of 
my gun-bearer, Gouvimali, who always acted as chanty 
man, or improvisatore, on such occasions. 
For a week we now trekked steadily south across the 
Equator, heel-and-toe marching, to Neri. Our first 
day’s journey took us to a gorge riven in the dry 
mountain. Halfway up it, in a side pocket, was a 
deep pool, at the foot of a sloping sheet of rock, down 
which a broad, shallow dent showed where the torrents 
swept during the rains. In the trees around the pool 
black drongo shrikes called in bell-like tones, and pied 
hornbills flirted their long tails as they bleated and 
croaked. The water was foul; but in a dry country 
