At Sewell's farm there is a pan of water made by a dam across an
almost waterless brook, and alongside of this pan we pitched our
camp. When the sun set, the high wind rose again, whirling up the
dust in heavy clouds and sending the sparks from the fire
scurrying over the ground. But the Kedong Valley wind is more or
less a phenomenon of the country. You can count upon it
absolutely for every one of its disagreeable qualities. I think
the citizens of Africa are a little proud of it.
There was now a fair chance that on our way into the Rift Valley
we should flush one or another of the larger animals.
Preparations for such a contingency were accordingly made before
starting from Sewell's farm. Canteens and iron drums were filled
with water, because the next camp would be a dry one. The
cinematograph, cameras, and all the extra boxes were loaded with
films the evening before, and the four special camera porters
were given strict orders to keep well up with the advance of the
safari. The lion-taming outfit--the tongs, muzzles, chains, and
collars--was stowed on the first wagon, on top of the load, where
it could be got at readily in case of need.
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