ABSTRACT
A f t e r the decision to abandon the projected visit to Settima we all felt that we were well on the “ home trail,” and were not in the mood to brook delay ; so, when we reached the borders of the Kikuyu country, our request to enter it was somewhat peremptory. We camped at a place called Karati, beside a swamp, about a couple of miles from our former camp. Our “ blood-brothers ” soon arrived with presents of food for me. They came at once to show me that their ulcers had entirely healed, and to express their gratitude. They promised food for next day. Enough came in to enable us to march southward on the morrow ; but a fresh outbreak of illness delayed us. The return to the damp cold mists of the forests of Kikuyu brought back the old lung troubles. For a couple of days the lives of two of the porters hung in the balance, and the time was wasted to me, as constant attendance on the men prevented collecting. Fortunately they recovered, but the next few marches had to be taken easily.
