The general elevation of the country was 3,966 feet above the sea-level, 292 feet higher than Obbo. The chief of Farajoke, observing me engaged in taking bearings with the compass, was anxious to know my object, which being explained, he volunteered all information respecting the country, and assured me that it would be quite impossible to cross the Asua during the rainy season, as it was a violent torrent, rushing over a rocky bed with such impetuosity, that no one would venture to swim it. There was nothing to be done at this season, and however trying to the patience, there was no alternative. Farajoke was within three days' hard marching of Faloro, the station of Debono, that had always been my projected head-quarters; thus I was well advanced upon my intended route, and had the season been propitious, I could have proceeded with my baggage animals without difficulty. The loss of my horse "Filfil" was a severe blow in this wild region, where beasts of burthen were unknown, and I had slight hopes of his recovery, as lions were plentiful in the country between Obbo and Farajoke; however, I offered a reward of beads and bracelets, and a number of natives were sent by the chief to scour the jungles. There was little use in remaining at Farajoke, therefore I returned to Obbo with my men and donkeys, accomplishing the whole distance (thirty miles) in one day. I was very anxious about Mrs. Baker, who had been the representative of the expedition at Obbo during my absence. Upon my approach through the forest, my well-known whistle was immediately answered by the appearance of the boy Saat, who, without any greeting, immediately rushed to the hut to give the intelligence that "Master was arrived." I found my wife looking remarkably well, and regularly installed "at home." Several fat sheep were tied by the legs to pegs in front of the hut; a number of fowls were pecking around the entrance, and my wife awaited me on the threshold with a large pumpkin shell containing about a gallon of native beer. "Dulce domum," although but a mud hut, the loving welcome made it happier than a palace; and that draught of beer, or fermented mud, or whatever trash it might be compared with in England, how delicious it seemed after a journey of thirty miles in the broiling sun! and the fat sheep and the fowls all looked so luxurious. Alas!--for destiny--my arrival cut short the existence of one being; what was joy to some was death to a sheep, and in a few moments the fattest was slain in honour of master's return, and my men were busily employed in preparing it for a general feast.