Bravely toiled the men, without murmur, though their legs were bleeding from the cruel grass.  “Ambrosial morn” at last appeared, with all its beautiful and lovely features.  Heaven was born anew to us, with comforting omens and cheery promise.  The men, though fatigued at the unusual travel, sped forward with quicker, pace as daylight broke, until, at 8 A.M., we sighted the swift Rusugi River, when a halt was ordered in a clump of jungle near it, for breakfast and rest.  Both banks of the river were alive with buffalo, eland, and antelope, but, though the sight was very tempting, we did not fire, because we dared not.  The report of a gun would have alarmed the whole country.  I preferred my coffee, and the contentment which my mind experienced at our success.

An hour after we had rested, some natives, carrying salt from the Malagarazi, were seen coming up the right bank of the river.  When abreast of our hiding-place, they detected us, and dropping their salt-bags, they took to their heels at once, shouting out as they ran, to alarm some villages that appeared about four miles north of us.  The men were immediately ordered to take up their loads, and in a few minutes we had crossed the Rusugi, and were making direct for a bamboo jungle that appeared in our front.  On, on, we kept steadily until, at 1 P.M., we sighted the little lake of Musunya, as wearied as possible with our nine hours march.

Lake Musunya is one of the many circular basins found in this part of Uhha.  There was quite a group of them.  The more correct term of these lakes would be immense pools.  In the Masika season, Lake Musunya must extend to three or four miles in length by two in breadth.  It swarms with hippopotami, and its shores abound with noble game.

We were very quiet, as may be imagined, in our bivouac; neither tent nor hut was raised, nor was fire kindled, so that, in case of pursuit, we could move off without delay.  I kept my Winchester rifle (the gift of my friend Mr. Morris, and a rare gift it was for such a crisis) with its magazine full, and two hundred cartridges in a bag slung over my shoulders.  Each soldier’s gun was also ready and loaded, and we retired to sleep our fatigues off with a feeling of perfect security.

November 8th.—­Long before dawn appeared, we were on the march, and, as daylight broke, we emerged from the bamboo jungle, and struck across the naked plain of Uhha, once more passing several large pools by the way—­far-embracing prospects of undulating country, with here and there a characteristic clump of trees relieving the general nudity of the whole.  Hour after hour we toiled on, across the rolling land waves, the sun shining with all its wonted African fervor, but with its heat slightly tempered by the welcome breezes, which came laden with the fragrance of young grass, and perfume of strange flowers of various hues, that flecked