Shortly after debouching into the Mukondokwa valley, we struck the road traversed by Captains Buxton and Speke in 1857, between Mbumi and Kadetamare (the latter place should be called Misonghi, Kadetamare being but the name of a chief).  After following the left bank of the Mukondokwa, during which our route diverged to every point from south-east to west, north and northeast, for about an hour, we came to the ford.  Beyond the ford, a short half-hour’s march, we came to Kiora.

At this filthy village of Kiora, which was well-grounded with goat-dung, and peopled with a wonderful number of children for a hamlet that did not number twenty families, with a hot sun pouring on the limited open space, with a fury that exceeded 128 degrees Fahrenheit; which swarmed with flies and insects of known and unknown species; I found, as I had been previously informed, the third caravan, which had started out of Bagamoyo so well fitted and supplied.  The leader, who was no other than the white man Farquhar, was sick-a-bed with swollen legs (Bright’s disease), unable to move.

As he heard my voice, Farquhar staggered out of his tent, so changed from my spruce mate who started from Bagamoyo, that I hardly knew him at first.  His legs were ponderous, elephantine, since his leg-illness was of elephantiasis, or dropsy.  His face was of a deathly pallor, for he had not been out of his tent for two weeks.

A breezy hill, overlooking the village of Kiora, was chosen by me for my camping-ground, and as soon as the tents were pitched, the animals attended to, and a boma made of thorn bushes, Farquhar was carried up by four men into my tent.  Upon being questioned as to the cause of his illness, he said he did not know what had caused it.  He had no pain, he thought, anywhere.  I asked, “Do you not sometimes feel pain on the right side?”—­“Yes, I think I do; but I don’t know.”—­” Nor over the left nipple sometimes—­a quick throbbing, with a shortness of breath?”—­” Yes, I think I have.  I know I breathe quick sometimes.”  He said his only trouble was in the legs, which were swollen to an immense size.  Though he had a sound appetite, he yet felt weak in the legs.

From the scant information of the disease and its peculiarities, as given by Farquhar himself, I could only make out, by studying a little medical book I had with me, that “a swelling of the legs, and sometimes of the body, might result from either heart, liver, or kidney disease.”  But I did not know to what to ascribe the disease, unless it was to elephantiasis—­a disease most common in Zanzibar; nor did I know how to treat it in a man who, could not tell me whether he felt pain in his head or in his back, in his feet or in his chest.

It was therefore fortunate for me that I overtook him at Kiora; though he was about to prove a sore incumbrance to me, for he was not able to walk, and the donkey-carriage, after the rough experience of the Makata valley, was failing.  I could not possibly leave him at Kiora, death would soon overtake him there; but how long I could convey a man in such a state, through a country devoid of carriage, was a question to be resolved by circumstances.