ABSTRACT
ON Monday, the 14th, I made arrangements for ascending the mountain. During the whole of my stay in Chaga I had been trying to secure the chiefs good will, in the hope of obtaining his assistance in an attempt to reach the snow-line. The proposition was at first regarded as absurd. “ Who are you,” was the universal exclamation, “ that you should ascend the mighty Kilima Njaro ? Haven’t our people tried it again and again without success ? Didn’t the last Mzungu that came here try it, and wasn’t he driven back ?” Then we were told all manner of fabulous stories about the supernatural occupants of the mountain’s summit, who were watching over immense hoards of gold, silver, and precious stones, and who would treat in the most summary manner any mortal daring to enter upon their sacred domains. We were informed of parties venturing too far up the mountain, who were so effectually disposed of that they were never seen again ; of others who returned with frost-bitten limbs, telling the most frightful stories of their experiences. Mandara gave us an account of a passage he had made of the mid-portion of the mountain on his way to Rombo and Useri. Such was the weather he encountered, that despite his best endeavours he lost no less than fifteen men in one day. This story with much exaggeration was recounted by Mandara’s men to my porters, who received the whole as if it had been every word true.
