54 
THE KILIMA NJARO EXPEDITION 
dozen eleven bottles were consumed at various crises 
in my adventures, wlien I felt my physical strength 
deserting me. Somehow the very knowledge that 
you have such a stimulant at hand braces your nerves 
with mental confidence, and the happy faith in its 
sovereign efficacy inspires you with a cheering belief 
that Death himself will flee before a goblet of 
champagne. 
The name of our last camping-place, “ Ziwani,” had 
a pleasant sound to the thirsty traveller, for translated 
into English it means “ By the pool, 55 and would con¬ 
sequently suggest the close proximity of water. But, 
except under favourable conditions, this is not the case 
at the spot in question, and, as it happened, Taru, a 
day’s journey from Ziwani, was the last place where 
we had been able to replenish our gourds and bottles. 
In consequence of such dearth of water it was necessary 
that the distance between Ziwani and Maungu (the 
next watering-place) should be covered in a day, and 
as this was thirty-two miles it meant a forced march 
of thirteen hours. My men had willingly allowed me 
to ignore the disagreeable necessity, fearing that I 
might, as I certainly should have done, force them to 
break the distance between Ziwani and Maungu by a 
night march—a thing they much detested, even when 
performed by the light of a full moon, having, like 
most Africans, a superstitious fear of night. But being 
themselves conscious of the long stretch of waterless 
country they had to traverse before reaching the moun¬ 
tains of Maungu, they, for once, were eager and ready 
to start before their leader’s call, and consequently 
when I awoke from that delicious dreamless sleep 
caused by the timely draught of champagne, I found 
myself almost alone, while a strange and unwonted 
