By the following morning Grosvenor was practically well again, and, with his injured leg well protected by a bandage, was once more able to mount a horse; the march was therefore resumed, and came to an unadventurous end in a small valley, watered by a tiny brook, as the sun was sinking beneath the western horizon. Thenceforward their progress was steady, averaging about twenty miles a day, for six days a week, Sunday being always observed as a rest day, whenever possible, primarily for the sake of the cattle, it must be confessed, which it was found required at least one day's rest in every seven upon such a prolonged journey as that upon which they were now engaged. The journey was not altogether devoid of adventure, by any means; for upon one occasion they killed no less than five of their oxen through overwork during a hurried flight from the neighbourhood of a devastating grass fire; they lost three more at one fell swoop while crossing a flooded river; six succumbed to snake bites; four fell a prey to lions; and seven died of sickness believed to have been induced by the eating of some poisonous plant. But, after all, these were merely the ordinary accidents incidental to travel in the African wilderness, and would need too much space to be recorded in detail. The natives whom they encountered from time to time during their progress were by no means uniformly friendly, but tact and firmness, coupled with an occasional demonstration of the terribly destructive qualities of their firearms, and a judicious distribution of presents among the chiefs, secured them from actual molestation, though there were times when it seemed to be, figuratively speaking, a toss-up, whether they would or would not have to choose between being turned back or "wiped out."