The river still diminished very much in volume, as a large amount of water must of necessity be absorbed by the surrounding dry country, while the loss by evaporation must be enormous. According to our calculations we should now have been almost in sight of Lorian, having travelled quite sixty-five miles down the river from our Rendili camp. On reaching a pool situated in a bend of the river, we came upon a school of hippopotamus wallowing in the mud at the water’s edge. We hid ourselves on the bank about ten yards away, and watched them for some time, as one very rarely has a chance of seeing them, unobserved, at such close quarters. Presently one of them rose, and, climbing the bank, walked slowly towards us, grazing as it came. El Hakim sat down—his favourite position for a shot—and dropped it dead with a bullet through the neck. At the sound of the report a terrific splash from the pool announced the alarm of the other members of the school, and with one accord they dived to the bottom, whence they reappeared at intervals to breathe, accompanied by much blowing and snorting. With shouts of joy our men instantly pounced upon the fallen hippopotamus, its meat being greatly esteemed by them as food. We also were badly in need of fat, which the dead animal supplied in great abundance. On cutting it open we found layers of rich yellow fat, a couple of inches thick, between the skin and the body. Great fires were at once lit, and for the next hour or two the spot resembled the deck of a whaler when the blubber is being boiled down. The men got a plentiful supply of fat for themselves, and, after an hour’s boiling and rendering, we also obtained two buckets of rich fat congealed to the consistency of butter, which it resembled in colour. At this stage the men again wished to turn back, but as we could not have been very far from Lorian, we thought it would be a pity to give up the search; so we announced our intention of proceeding, a decision which they received with every sign of discontent and even terror. At one o’clock in the afternoon, having disposed of the remains of the hippo, we once more made our way down-stream. Just before sunset we sighted the immense sycamore tree which marked the limit of Mr. Chanler’s journey, and from whence he sighted Lorian. Pushing forward with renewed vigour, we finally reached it, and looked round with eager eyes, fully expecting to get a glimpse of our long-sought-for goal. Not a sign of the swamp could be seen! The river, scarcely half a dozen yards in width, meandered eastwards, flowing smoothly and sluggishly between its low banks. On every side stretched the silent plains, in some places perfectly bare, and in others covered by patches of dried reeds, while a few solitary thorny acacias stood like ragged sentinels amid the general desolation. Lorian had vanished! [Illustration: 1. Head of old bull buffalo. The horns are very rugged, one being broken at the tip. 2. Waller’s gazelle.