By 5 P.M. we had travelled twenty miles, and the signal was sounded for a halt.  At 1 A.M., the moon being up, Hamed’s horn and voice were heard throughout the silent camp awaking his pagazis for the march.  Evidently Sheikh Hamed was gone stark mad, otherwise why should he be so frantic for the march at such an early hour?  The dew was falling heavily, and chilled one like frost; and an ominous murmur of deep discontent responded to the early call on all sides.  Presuming, however, that he had obtained better information than we had, Sheikh Thani and I resolved to be governed as the events proved him to be right or wrong.

As all were discontented, this night, march was performed in deep silence.  The thermometer was at 53°, we being about 4,500 feet above the level of the sea.  The pagazis, almost naked, walked quickly in order to keep warm, and by so doing many a sore foot was made by stumbling against obtrusive roots and rocks, and treading on thorns.  At 3 A.M. we arrived at the village of Unyambogi, where we threw ourselves down to rest and sleep until dawn should reveal what else was in store for the hard-dealt-with caravans.

It was broad daylight when I awoke; the sun was flaring his hot beams in my face.  Sheikh Thani came soon after to inform me that Hamed had gone to Kiti two hours since; but he, when asked to accompany him, positively refused, exclaiming against it as folly, and utterly unnecessary.  When my advice was asked by Thani, I voted the whole thing as sheer nonsense; and, in turn, asked him what a terekeza was for?  Was it not an afternoon march to enable caravans to reach water and food?  Thani replied than it was.  I then asked him if there was no water or food to be obtained in Unyambogi.  Thani replied that he had not taken pains to inquire, but was told by the villagers that there was an abundance of matamia, hindi, maweri, sheep; goats, and chickens in their village at cheap prices, such as were not known in Ugogo.

“Well, then,” said I, “if Hamed wants to be a fool, and kill his pagazis, why should we?  I have as much cause for haste as Sheikh Hamed; but Unyanyembe is far yet, and I am not going to endanger my property by playing the madman.”

As Thani had reported, we found an abundance of provisions at the village, and good sweet water from some pits close by.  A sheep cost one chukka; six chickens were also purchased at that price; six measures of matama, maweri, or hindi, were procurable for the same sum; in short, we were coming, at last, into the land of plenty.

On the 10th June we arrived at Kiti after a journey of four hours and a half, where we found the irrepressible Hamed halted in sore trouble.  He who would be a Caesar, proved to be an irresolute Antony.  He had to sorrow over the death of a favourite slave girl, the loss of five dish-dashes (Arab shirts), silvered-sleeve and gold-embroidered jackets, with which he had thought to enter Unyanyembe in state, as became a merchant of his standing, which had disappeared with three absconding servants, besides copper trays, rice, and pilau dishes, and two bales of cloth with runaway Wangwana pagazis.  Selim, my Arab servant, asked him, “What are you doing here, Sheikh Hamed?  I thought you were well on the road to Unyanyembe.”  Said he, “Could I leave Thani, my friend, behind?”