We struck off as early as possible through the thorn scrub on a compass bearing that we hoped would bring us to a reported swamp at the head of the Swanee River.  The Swanee River was one of the sources of the Tsavo.  Of course this was guesswork.  We did not know certainly the location of the swamp, its distance from us, nor what lay between us and it.  However, we loaded all our transportable vessels with water, and set forth.

The scrub was all alike; sometimes thinner, sometimes thicker.  We marched by compass until we had raised a conical hill above the horizon, and then we bore just to the left of that.  The surface of the ground was cut by thousands of game tracks.  They were all very old, however, made after a rain; and it was evident the game herds venture into this country only when it contains rainwater.  After two hours, however, we did see one solitary hartebeeste, whom we greeted as an old friend in desolation.  Shortly afterwards we ran across one oribi, which I shot for our own table.

At the end of two hours we sat down.  The safari of twenty men was a very miscellaneous lot, consisting of the rag-tag-and-bobtail of the bazaars picked up in a hurry.  They were soft and weak, and they straggled badly.  The last weakling—­prodded along by one of our two askaris—­limped in only at the end of half an hour.  Then we took a new start.

The sun was by now up and hot.  The work was difficult enough at best, but the weight of the tropics was now cast in the scale.  Twice more within the next two hours we stopped to let every one catch up.  Each time this required a longer interval.  In the thorn it was absolutely essential to keep in touch with every member of the party.  A man once lost would likely remain so, for we could not afford to endanger all for the sake of one.

Time wore on until noon.  Had it not been for a thin film of haze that now overspread the sky, I think the sun would have proved too much for some of the men.  Four or five straggled so very badly that we finally left them in charge of one of our two askaris, with instructions to follow on as fast as they could.  In order to make this possible, we were at pains to leave a well-marked trail.

After this fashion, slowly, and with growing anxiety for some of the men, we drew up on our landmark hill.  There our difficulties increased; the thorn brush thickened.  Only by a series of short zigzags, and by taking advantage of every rhino trail going in our direction, could we make our way through it at all; while to men carrying burdens on their heads the tangle aloft must have been fairly maddening.  So slow did our progress necessarily become, and so difficult was it to keep in touch with everybody, that F. and I finally halted for consultation.  It was decided that I should push on ahead with Memba Sasa to make certain that we were not on the wrong line, while F. and the askaris struggled with the safari.