This Hill I
Named Mount Erskine, After The Kennedy-Erskines Of Dun.
Travelling West from Mount Bannerman, we had five miles of very rough and
jagged rocks to cross, worn away into a regular network of deep little
glens, very awkward to get over.
The rocks were burning hot, and the
walking was not at all to the liking of our small guide. The young
warrior led the way, but was continually turning round for instructions
to the little chap riding behind, who directed him with a wave of the
hand in a most lordly manner. It is a most noticeable thing how much the
natives seem to feel the heat, and I am inclined to think that in the hot
weather they hunt only in the morning and evening, and camp during the
day. I was walking with the youth, and whenever we stopped to allow the
camels to catch us up he would crouch right up against me to get the
benefit of my shadow; and he was so fearfully thirsty that I took pity on
him and got him some water, though WE had all walked since sunrise
without a mouthful.
In crossing these small ravines, I noticed again how much easier it is
for camels to step down a steep rock than up - in stepping up they hang
their front foot out, and paw about for a place to put it down upon in a
most silly way.
In the main channel of a number of conjoining glens we came on a nice
little pool under a step in the rocky bed.
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