We sounded with poles till our arms ached, and were about to give up in despair when one or two of the men, bolder or more hungry than their fellows, jumped in and attempted to dive. Suddenly one of them came to the surface with a joyful shout, saying he had found the carcase at the bottom of the pool in ten feet of water. We gave him the end of a stout line in order that he might dive again and make it fast to one of the feet. This he attempted to do, but after repeated trials he confessed himself beaten. There being no other help for it, I undertook the task myself, and at the third attempt, after a lot of manœuvring in the swift current, I succeeded in making the line fast round one of the legs just above the foot. Success at last seemed certain, and by dint of pulling gently on the line, we at length raised the body slowly to the surface. The excited men raised a shout of joy, which died away in a wail of bitter disappointment as the frail rope parted and the hippo sank once more to the bottom of the pool. I was by this time almost exhausted and shivering with cold, but again I essayed the task of making the rope fast, and eventually succeeded, and at length, by steady and persistent pulling on the untrustworthy line, we drew the body ashore just as the dusk fell. The men at once set to work with their knives, and very shortly the cooking-pots were bubbling merrily away, and our hungry followers proceeded to gorge themselves on the meat; a congenial occupation which commanded their earnest attention until the early hours of the following morning. FOOTNOTES: [16] The Bongo of the Bahr el Ghazal also bury their dead in the sitting position, covering the body with logs and branches instead of stones. CHAPTER XVII. _ARRIVAL AT M’THARA._ In sight of Kenia once more—El Hakim and the lion—The “Green Camp” again—The baby water-buck—El Hakim shoots an elephant—The buried buffalo horns destroyed by hyænas—Bad news from M’thara—Plot to attack and massacre us hatched by Bei-Munithu—N’Dominuki’s fidelity—Baked elephant’s foot—Rain—Arrival at our old camp at M’thara. On resuming the march up-river next morning, we found the road much better than on our journey down the opposite bank. It lay over firm gravelly ridges, littered with quartz _débris_ dotted here and there with scattered thorn bushes. Now and again we crossed patches of mineral salts, some of which we boiled down in the endeavour to obtain some table salt, but the resulting compound tasted more like the nauseous mixtures administered by the family physician in our childhood’s happy days than anything, and was in consequence utterly useless for table purposes.