PAINFUL MARCHES 
no sooner had they fallen to the ground than the ants 
started on their mischievous work. When I woke up in 
the morning, all that remained of my shoes were the two 
leather soles, the upper parts having been completely 
destroyed. 
Going through the forest, where thorns of all sizes were 
innumerable, another torture was now in store for me. 
With pieces of string I turned the soles of the shoes into 
primitive sandals; but when I started on the march I 
found that they hurt me much more than if I walked 
barefooted. After marching a couple of kilometres, my 
renovated footgear hurt me so much in going up and 
down the steep ravines that I took off the sandals alto¬ 
gether and flung them away. 
That day we went over eleven successive hill ranges 
and crossed as many little streamlets between them. My 
men were terribly downhearted. We had with us a 
Mauser and two hundred cartridges, but although we did 
nothing all day long but look for something to kill we 
never heard a sound of a living animal. Only one day, 
at the beginning of our fast, did I see a big mutum — 
larger than a big turkey. The bird had never seen a human 
being, and sat placidly perched on the branch of a tree, 
looking at us with curiosity, singing gaily. I tried to fire 
with the Mauser at the bird, which was only about seven 
or eight metres away, but cartridge after cartridge missed 
fire. I certainly spent not less than twenty minutes con¬ 
stantly replenishing the magazine, and not a single 
cartridge went off. They had evidently absorbed so much 
moisture during our many accidents in the river and in 
the heavy rain-storms we had had of late, that they had 
become useless. 
While I was pointing the gun the bird apparently took 
the greatest interest in my doings, looked at me, stooping 
down gracefully each time that the rifle missed fire, sing¬ 
ing dainty notes almost as if it were laughing at me. The 
268 
