For Some Miles We Passed Through A Magnificent Forest Of Large Trees.
The Path Being Remarkably Good, The March Looked Propitious.
This good
fortune, however, was doomed to change.
We shortly entered upon thick
thorny jungles. The path was so overgrown that the camels could scarcely
pass under the overhanging branches, and the leather bags of provisions
piled upon their backs were soon ripped by the hooked thorns of the
mimosa. The salt, rice, and coffee bags all sprang leaks, and small
streams of these important stores issued from the rents which the men
attempted to repair by stuffing dirty rags into the holes. These thorns
were shaped like fishhooks; thus it appeared that the perishable baggage
must soon become an utter wreck, as the great strength and weight of the
camels bore all before them, and sometimes tore the branches from the
trees, the thorns becoming fixed in the leather bags. Meanwhile the
donkeys walked along in comfort, being so short that they and their
loads were below the branches.
My wife and I rode about a quarter of a mile at the head of the party as
an advance guard, to warn the caravan of any difficulty. The very nature
of the country showed that it must be full of ravines, and yet I could
not help hoping against hope that we might have a clear mile of road
without a break. The evening had passed, and the light faded. What had
been difficult and tedious during the day now became most serious; we
could not see the branches of hooked thorns that over-hung the broken
path. I rode in advance, my face and arms bleeding with countless
scratches, while at each rip of a thorn I gave a warning shout - "Thorn!"
for those behind, and a cry of "Hole!" for any deep rut that lay in the
path. It was fortunately moonlight; but the jungle was so thick that the
narrow track was barely perceptible; thus both camels and donkeys ran
against the trunks of trees, smashing the luggage and breaking all that
could be broken. Nevertheless the case was urgent; march we must at all
hazards.
My heart sank whenever we cane to a deep ravine or hor; the warning cry
of "halt" told those in the rear that once more the camels must be
unloaded and the same fatiguing operation must be repeated. For hours we
marched; the moon was sinking; the path, already dark, grew darker; the
animals, overloaded even for a good road, were tired out, and the men
were disheartened, thirsty, and disgusted. Everything was tired out. I
had been working like a slave to assist and to cheer the men; I was also
fatigued. We had marched from 4.30 P.M - it was now 1 A.M.; we had thus
been eight hours and a half struggling along the path. The moon had
sunk, and the complete darkness rendered a further advance impossible;
therefore, on arrival at a large plateau of rock, I ordered the animals
to be unloaded and both man and beast to rest.
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