In case such a thing should ever happen again, the men of our party were evidently determined to be prepared, for on the following afternoon we saw them shouldering their guns, and after hearing a few distant sounds of shot, two zebras and three antelopes were carried into camp; and before we had finished admiring and pitying these splendid fallen lords of the country, they were carried off and skinned. The next sight we caught of them was in the form of long, gory strips festooned from branch to branch of a tree close by. The porters, hawk-like, were standing round, as hungry East Enders outside fried fish bars. Perhaps they can be partially excused when we consider the monotonous, unpalatable millet which constitutes their daily diet. At 7 p.m. a drum was beaten, and every man presented himself in as famished a condition as he could assume. They stood like soldiers waiting to be decorated with the V.C. In a few minutes the tree was quite cleared, and outside each tiny tent was fixed on sticks venison and wild beef roasting over the fires. The sounds of revelry had scarcely died away when the morning call drum sounded. [Illustration: THE NEW BOAT ON VICTORIA NYANZA.] The people who live in the district through which we had hitherto passed are called the Masai tribe, a nomadic folk who travel about from one place to another, according to the pasture the land offers for their goats and sheep. They have distinctly warlike propensities, and a warrior chief is often met having a few armed followers, who, like their master, smear their bodies with grease and red earth, only wearing a small strip of cloth, or an animal’s skin over the shoulder, and sometimes a few feathers in their matted and oiled hair. The fierce opposition they showed to the pioneer Missionaries is now no longer displayed; in fact they appear somewhat timid and reserved. The general physical feature of the land is soft, gently undulating country. But for the lakes Naivasha and Nakuro, and the River Gilgal, there is a marked scarcity of water. Not until we reached the Eldoma Ravine did we pass anything worthy of being called a forest. At that point we had risen 7,000 feet above sea level, and exquisite stretches of tangled forests of cedars and bamboos afforded a welcome relief after the dried up and treeless track we had been accustomed to. Cycling was quite impossible owing to the many trees that had fallen across the road, and the deep ruts made by the ox waggons which had passed along in the wet season; one waggon, carrying along parts of a new boat to be floated on the Victoria Nyanza, was overthrown and broken up by one of these ruts the day we passed through the forest.