The night of 1st January passed uneventfully. Bugleless, drumless “_Réveillé_”—silent as always in enemy country—was at 4.30 a.m. and we trekked soon afterwards, but only into Wiransi, where we halted until 4 o’clock in the evening; then continuing, we advanced out on the Behobeho track some three to four miles, before striking off south-westerly through tall grass and fairly open bush in the direction of the Fuga hills. Aided by the light of a full moon, the column kept on until midnight, when the hitherto level bush became more uneven, and thick bush belts were encountered among low hills and “dongas” of rough gravel surface. Halt was called in a fairly clear space of tall grass, but almost immediately exclamations of pain and acute irritation were heard on all sides from much-provoked individuals, and the air was literally full of abuse—we had camped among a swarm of fighting ants, who straightway attacked the bare legs and arms and faces of everyone, in no half-hearted manner, but with all the malice of their angered millions. It was suggested that we move to another camping-ground at once, but no order came to that effect, and by and by, when the attacks abated, we dropped off to sleep, one by one, too tired to continue to kill the more vengeful of the ants that still bit deep into quivering weather-toughened skins. Next day we continued on, but made progress slowly in the neighbourhood of Mount Fuga, hampered by river-beds and their precipitous descents and ascents. We put in a trying day’s trek, considerably exhausted by the heat and oppressive atmosphere of the enclosed bush, and finally made camp at dusk between Mount Fuga and Behobeho—which was known to be occupied by the enemy. In conjunction with our force a column to the east are advancing on the Behobeho track, and we heard that column in action to-day. We, on our part, now outflank the enemy from the west.