Native feminality and the cavalry spirit—Scarcity and economy—A house of straw—Carriers, professional and other—Diversified panorama—Parting with the first carriers. The journey between Juga and Naraguta, 35 miles, is mapped into three stages of a day each. I wished to push through in two days. Headman Hanza was for the easier form of covering the ground, but on the intimation being conveyed to him that the quicker programme must be carried out and that the night would be passed at Toro he at once acquiesced, with “To, Zaki,” and we moved off. Passing through the native village of Juga, where the carriers had put up for the last few days, it was clear that, true to their reputation, they had improved the occasion by ingratiating themselves into the good graces of the ladies, and many were the partings verbally exchanged as we marched away. Pre-eminent in receiving these attentions was my first doki boy—a gambling thriftless rascal—for the reason, I suppose, that the cavalry spirit always has a charm for the other sex. Seven-and-a-half miles out, at the market-place of Kadaura, the carriers halted for their first meal. I also had arranged the plan of having breakfast en route instead of disposing of that necessity before starting, as is my usual practice. Perhaps there is some pleasure in an open-air table, but it does not facilitate one hurrying. Nearly half-an-hour elapsed before Oje and his assistant presented the porridge. They were not to blame. The ground was wet from the overnight rain, and still more so the twigs collected for a fire. Oje was equal to the drawback, which he overcame by pouring kerosene over the wood, a method not to be encouraged in a part of the country where a tank of the oil which can be purchased in England for 2s. 8d. costs 18s. 6d. and in some places is not to be obtained at any price. Living in a land where there is scarcity of certain essentials, habits of economy become imperative. The country traversed resembles that previously described, with the exception that the path draws further from the mountains. Toro was reached at midday. The Government rest-house is on the slope of a low hill, and on riding up to the building I found it occupied by an official engaged in telegraph construction. He was good enough to offer to share with me the one-roomed dwelling, but as I wished to have a few hours’ work I thought better to pitch my tent elsewhere.