Our path led us right close up to the north end of the Ruwenzori range, where it gets broken up into a succession of pyramid peaks, ridge intersecting ridge. Bamboo forests crowned the crests, as few points reached a higher altitude than eight thousand or nine thousand feet. The dry season had just about exhausted itself at that time, in consequence of which the grass on the mountains was dried up or had been burnt away in huge patches, exposing the bare soil and jagged rocks that frowned down upon us with uncompromising severity. As the second day closed in upon us, we stole out of our little tent to watch the storm freaks on the mountain sides. An old dame, with a basket of sweet potatoes balanced on her shaven pate, passed us, and stared hard from our headgear down to our boot leather, with grave disapproval. She insisted most vehemently that we must live without eating, for where could the food go when we were tied up in the middle like that! Which reminded me of a chief who visiting us one day just as we were going in to lunch, asked if we became like the Batoro when they had finished eating, who resemble inflated balloons. Instead of being able to take a direct route to the Lake over the hills we were obliged to get down into the Semliki plain, a long, unwholesome tract reeking with malaria that lies between and unites with a broad navigable river, the Albert Edward and Albert Lakes. Although actually in sight of the broad sheet of water, to our dismay we found the only path zig-zagged continually across the plain, so that we were actually let in for five days floundering up and down it—pushing our way through grass five to ten feet high always laden with moisture as we started out each day on our tramp. The river Semliki winds along the plain like a glittering snake: it is about thirty yards wide, and has a very rapid flow which prevents swamps from collecting along its course. A few straggling huts sprawled about on the banks go by the name of fishing villages. With small harpoons the fisherfolk spear the fish, which are chiefly of the carnivorous species. Great care has to be exercised by the people as the river abounds in crocodiles. The inhabitants of the plain are a timid, dull folk—they did not even venture to look up at us as we passed them, although they had never seen a white woman. Arriving at one village we found it absolutely deserted; the people had all fled on hearing of our approach, leaving their homes with their few possessions scattered about. A search party was organised from among our porters, and after a long hunt one poor, unhappy creature was brought in. He looked as if his last moment had come when he was brought to us, but when he heard his own language spoken and learned our peaceful intentions he went off and hauled in the others who were soon on the most friendly terms with us. Towards evening they all came round us as we had prayers with our boys and porters.