It took us an hour and more to cross the cup of the volcanic plain, and another half-hour or so to climb the edge on the farther side.  Once there, however, the view was a very fine one.  Before us was a long steep slope of grassy plain, broken here and there by clumps of trees mostly of the thorn tribe.  At the bottom of this gentle slope, some nine or ten miles away, we could make out a dim sea of marsh, over which the foul vapours hung like smoke about a city.  It was easy going for the bearers down the slopes, and by midday we had reached the borders of the dismal swamp.  Here we halted to eat our midday meal, and then, following a winding and devious path, plunged into the morass.  Presently the path, at any rate to our unaccustomed eyes, grew so faint as to be almost indistinguishable from those made by the aquatic beasts and birds, and it is to this day a mystery to me how our bearers found their way across the marshes.  Ahead of the cavalcade marched two men with long poles, which they now and again plunged into the ground before them, the reason of this being that the nature of the soil frequently changed from causes with which I am not acquainted, so that places which might be safe enough to cross one month would certainly swallow the wayfarer the next.  Never did I see a more dreary and depressing scene.  Miles on miles of quagmire, varied only by bright green strips of comparatively solid ground, and by deep and sullen pools fringed with tall rushes, in which the bitterns boomed and the frogs croaked incessantly:  miles on miles of it without a break, unless the fever fog can be called a break.  The only life in this great morass was that of the aquatic birds, and the animals that fed on them, of both of which there were vast numbers.  Geese, cranes, ducks, teal, coot, snipe, and plover swarmed all around us, many being of varieties that were quite new to me, and all so tame that one could almost have knocked them over with a stick.  Among these birds I especially noticed a very beautiful variety of painted snipe, almost the size of a woodcock, and with a flight more resembling that bird’s than an English snipe’s.  In the pools, too, was a species of small alligator or enormous iguana, I do not know which, that fed, Billali told me, upon the waterfowl, also large quantities of a hideous black water-snake, of which the bite is very dangerous, though not, I gathered, so deadly as a cobra’s or a puff adder’s.  The bull-frogs were also very large, and with voices proportionate to their size; and as for the mosquitoes—­the “musqueteers,” as Job called them—­they were, if possible, even worse than they had been on the river, and tormented us greatly.  Undoubtedly, however, the worst feature of the swamp was the awful smell of rotting vegetation that hung about it, which was at times positively overpowering, and the malarious exhalations that accompanied it, which we were of course obliged to breathe.