Hanza considered the best course would be to send the horses across and to instruct one of the doki boys to ride to a village a few miles distant and bring a man who had a boat. The “boat” I subsequently found out was a large calabash ball with a stake through it, the upper part grasped by a passenger who sat on the calabash. This floated whilst the voyager was carried along by the stream; if he were able, paddling with feet until he was across, and if he had not confidence to do that then carried by the current until a turn of the bank on the other side intercepted him. Such a “boat” was lying near. When discovered, the question of conveying boxes over remained a difficulty. The horses were unsaddled; taken to a point where it was calculated the current would not bear them past the part on the opposite bank where they could get out of the water, and swum across. We saw one of the doki boys mount and ride away. There was nothing for it but to sit down and wait. We had arrived at 10.20, and after an hour’s delay and no sign of the doki boy, Hanza told me that one of the carriers thought he knew where the bed of the river rose somewhat, and had volunteered, if I would consent, to try and carry the loads across one by one. Glancing at the strongly-running stream, I said I would first prefer to see the man go over unencumbered. Hanza answered that the test was whether the man could keep on his feet bearing a load against the pressure of water. I appreciated the argument and looked along the line of packages for something easy. In order to cover the ground as quickly as possible I travel lightly. It seemed rather hard to decide what, if a sacrifice had to be made, should go. The photographic equipment was the lightest, but that was the most precious, more precious than the food. Scanning the boxes, I selected a case containing a tin of kerosene as being the article the loss of which would cause least inconvenience. Hoisting it on his head, Amadu—for he was the volunteer—went down the bank and entered the water. Gingerly he stepped out, for the current went hard and the ridge along which he walked was not too broad. Fortunately it curved leftwards, so he was able to give ground to some degree to the pressure of water on his right. But as he went deeper his efforts, it was distinctly visible, were more severe, and by the time he was in the middle of the stream—at its widest point—I had become very anxious. The river was up to his shoulders and beating across him ominously.