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thought I would take a turn with my gun; it was a misty evening, and too late to go out shooting. I wandered over the hills, and, the light failing, I was "making tracks" for home; it got darker and darker, and the mist got thicker. The little Galla boy that Kirkham had sent with me to show me the way, was a stranger to these hills; he never lost heart once nor spoke a word: at last he uttered a sort of whine; I then knew I had better trust to myself. I had seen, about a quarter of an hour before, the light of the fires of an Arab cattle station; I resolved to try and see the light again; so I fired my gun off twice to attract the attention of those in camp, but I was between hills, and they did not hear. I was pushing through the wet bushes when down I slipped, head over heels, on some creeper-covered rocks, but I picked myself up, with no harm beyond a fright. I was determined to find the light again; and, forcing my way through the jungle, as it was getting intensely dark, all of a sudden I again fell. This time I fell about twenty feet. The Galla boy was more careful, and, seeing me fall, crept along on his hands and knees, feeling his way as he went. I clutched hold of the creepers that grew on the rocks, and picked myself up. I heard water gurgling beneath, and I thought to myself it was lucky I did not fall farther, for I might have fared worse this time. I lost my felt hat, but the most extraordinary result of these false steps was that my little 16-bore gun, which I had with me, was not the least hurt, although it received several serious blows against the stones. At last I caught a glimpse of the welcome light. The cattle station was in a little vale: the smell of the cattle now guided me, and I soon found myself alongside of the thorny hedge that surrounded these camps. The women were preparing the evening meal, and when they saw me without any hat, and looking rather scared, began to laugh. This I thought unkind, so I pushed through the thorn hedge and went straight to one of the little fires. An old Arab was squatting by it. I was streaming with perspiration, and very thirsty. I asked him for a drink, and he brought me some water in a wooden bowl; no iced champagne ever tasted so good, and I swallowed it all; then I took off my coat to dry, having made up my mind that I was to stop here for the night. At least here was a fire and a chance of some food—better than the wet jungle in any case.
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