A number of Wakamba who had wandered from their own country during the famine, desired to return with us, and we allowed them to do so. This necessitated a rearrangement of the loads. There was, of course, a quarrel over the ivory. Resarse seized the 75-lb. tusk, and held it against all comers, until he was allowed to carry it. His previous load weighed barely 60 lbs. This was a striking illustration of the force of training. For centuries the Arabs, for interested reasons, have instilled into the mind of the Zanzibari that it is an honour to carry the largest tusk; with the result that it is now a part and parcel of safari “dasturi” (custom), which is like unto the “laws of the Medes and Persians, which altereth not.” However, after the usual squabbling, everything was arranged more or less satisfactorily, and bidding N’Dominuki farewell, we started on our long tramp to Nairobi. Scarcely had we been an hour on the road when down came the rain again. It was impossible to get the sheep or cattle to travel in the rain. All they would do was to turn their backs to it and stand motionless. The rain soon converted the narrow path into a gutter, and when the downpour finally ceased, just before dusk, we were splashing through water over our ankles. We only made a little more than an hour’s ordinary march, and even then some of the sheep did not get into camp until long after dark. The hyænas were very bold, and in spite of the extra men whom we sent to the assistance of the drovers, they got among the sheep in the darkness and killed several. All night long it rained in torrents, and we awoke in the morning to find over thirty sheep stretched out lifeless on the sodden earth. It was really most disheartening. We made a start again at ten o’clock and marched in a westerly direction, the country gradually ascending as we progressed westwards. From our camping-place the following evening we looked down on M’thara and Embe, while the temperature was appreciably lower. On the next day’s march we crossed over country of a rocky and gravelly formation, dotted everywhere with the peculiar whistling trees, which made a very weird and mournful sound in the breeze. It was a small thorny tree from four to eight feet in height, the leafless branches of which are covered with hollow spherical seed-pods, black in colour and the size of a plum. An insect bores a small hole in this shell, which, when the wind blows, causes it to emit a musical note, similar to that produced by an Eolian harp. These whistling trees covered the country for miles, and whistled in all keys at every breath of wind; the sound now increasing in volume, and anon dying away in a mournful wail that sounded almost uncanny. We saw a solitary lioness on the road, but as soon as she saw us she made off at top speed over the open, before we could get within reasonable range.