liable to very sudden and heavy freshets; but even had we not known it, we could have seen it by the snags of trees, which must have been carried long distances, and by the mass of vegetable and mineral debris which was banked against their lower side, showing that at times the whole river-bed must be covered with a roaring torrent many feet in depth and of ungovernable fury.  At present the river was low, there being but five or six streams, too deep and rapid for even a strong man to ford on foot, but to be crossed safely on horseback.  On either side of it there were still a few acres of flat, which grew wider and wider down the river, till they became the large plains on which we looked from my master’s hut.  Behind us rose the lowest spurs of the second range, leading abruptly to the range itself; and at a distance of half a mile began the gorge, where the river narrowed and became boisterous and terrible.  The beauty of the scene cannot be conveyed in language.  The one side of the valley was blue with evening shadow, through which loomed forest and precipice, hillside and mountain top; and the other was still brilliant with the sunset gold.  The wide and wasteful river with its ceaseless rushing—­the beautiful water-birds too, which abounded upon the islets and were so tame that we could come close up to them—­the ineffable purity of the air—­the solemn peacefulness of the untrodden region—­could there be a more delightful and exhilarating combination?

We set about making our camp, close to some large bush which came down from the mountains on to the flat, and tethered out our horses upon ground as free as we could find it from anything round which they might wind the rope and get themselves tied up.  We dared not let them run loose, lest they might stray down the river home again.  We then gathered wood and lit the fire.  We filled a tin pannikin with water and set it against the hot ashes to boil.  When the water boiled we threw in two or three large pinches of tea and let them brew.

We had caught half a dozen young ducks in the course of the day—­an easy matter, for the old birds made such a fuss in attempting to decoy us away from them—­pretending to be badly hurt as they say the plover does—­that we could always find them by going about in the opposite direction to the old bird till we heard the young ones crying:  then we ran them down, for they could not fly though they were nearly full grown.  Chowbok plucked them a little and singed them a good deal.  Then we cut them up and boiled them in another pannikin, and this completed our preparations.