We were encamped ten days on a hill near Rehenneko, or until the 25th, when, the rain having entirely ceased, we resolved to attempt the crossing of the Makata.  The bales of cloth had all been distributed as presents to the men for their work, except a small quantity which I retained for the food of my own mess.

But we should have waited a month longer, for the inundation had not abated four inches.  However, after we once struggled up to our necks in water it was use less to turn back.  For two marches of eight hours each we plunged through slush, mire, deep sloughs, water up to our necks, and muddy cataclysms, swam across nullahs, waded across gullies, and near sunset of the second day arrived on the banks of the Makata River.  My people are not likely to forget that night; not one of them was able to sleep until it was long past midnight, because of the clouds of mosquitoes, which threatened to eat us all up; and when the horn sounded for the march of another day, there was not one dissentient amongst them.

It was 5 A.M. when we began the crossing of the Makata River, but beyond it for six miles stretched one long lake, the waters of which flowed gently towards the Wami.  This was the confluence of the streams:  four rivers were here gathered into one.  The natives of Kigongo warned us not to attempt it, as the water was over our heads; but I had only to give a hint to the men, and we set on our way.  Even the water—­we were getting quite amphibious—­was better than the horrible filth and piles of decaying vegetation which were swept against the boma of the village.

We were soon up to our armpits, then the water shallowed to the knee, then we stepped up to the neck, and waded on tiptoe, supporting the children above the water; and the same experiences occurred as those which we suffered the day before, until we were halted on the edge of the Little Makata, which raced along at the rate of eight knots an hour; but it was only fifty yards wide, and beyond it rose a high bank, and dry park-lands which extended as far as Simbo.  We had no other option than to swim it; but it was a slow operation, the current was so swift and strong.  Activity and zeal, high rewards, presents of money, backed by the lively feeling that we were nearing home, worked wonders, and in a couple of hours we were beyond the Makata.

Cheery and hopeful, we sped along the dry, smooth path that now lay before us, with the ardor and vivacity of heroes, and the ease and power of veterans, We rolled three ordinary marches into one that day, and long before night arrived at Simbo.

On the 29th we crossed the Ungerengeri, and as we came to Simbamwenni-the “Lion City” of Useguhha—­lo! what a change!  The flooded river had swept the entire front wall of the strongly-walled city away, and about fifty houses had been destroyed by the torrent.  Villages of Waruguru, on the slopes of the Uruguru Mountains—­Mkambaku range—­had also suffered disastrously.  If one-fourth of the reports we heard were true, at least a hundred people must have perished.