"He went by train to Mikessi, about 150 miles up the Central Railway, and from there started with his draft of 400 men to reach the regiment. He reached Kissaki in a fortnight. This is practically the last point where any life exists, except game, in this part of the country. In many ways it is terrible country; there are no names, save such names as we gave it, no roads. It is covered with thick elephant-grass, six to eight feet high, and very thick thorn-bush and swamp. Although I was one of them, I honestly think that the sufferings of the troops in this horrible trek have hardly been exceeded by any in the war. There was only filthy water, we marched on half-rations, with no bread at all, only flour being issued and occasionally biscuit. The whole country was poisonous with fever and 'blackwater'; hardly any natives live here, as it is too poisonous. Most of the men went sick and died like flies. It was just south of Kissaki he caught the regiment up. He was just as cheerful as a schoolboy. "The day he was killed, I passed him in the morning with his company, I was driving an armoured machine-gun, as the driver was ill. As I passed him, I shouted out, 'I shall be back and have _tea_ with you to-day, sir,' for we used to joke him about his habit of drinking tea with every meal. "That was the last I saw of him. There was some fighting in the bush during the day, and when I came back in the afternoon I was greeted with the news of his death. I was just in time to see him buried. He was sewn up in a blanket, and buried with five other men of the R. Fusiliers. I was told he was first wounded in the right arm, which was broken, but was bandaged up, and he remained with his company.[83] "A little later he was again hit in the mouth and was killed instantaneously and apparently painlessly. "A little space was cleared in the bush and he was buried, at one of the most impressive services I have ever attended, the same day in the afternoon. I intended to photograph the spot, but next day I went down with a bad attack of blackwater fever, and the next few weeks are a complete blank to me. My memory is still somewhat out of gear. My diary and camera were missing when I came round, and so all my exact records are going to some scamp. He is buried about 60 miles south of Kissaki, in a nameless spot, but if you will wait a month or two I may yet be able to get you some photographs and further details. "As I said before, he was always my hero as a boy in books, and he remains so now. He had all that simplicity and modesty of great men. He was the easiest of all men to cheat, but yet no one ever dared to do it. He was a moral antiseptic in a country where men are not saints. Anything mean or sordid literally shrivelled up in his presence.