No mention was made of this
openly. The only sign of our underlying anxiety was a vague
restlessness pervading the entire safari.
Once on the march again, with the sun low in the west, the
restlessness disappeared. The night came dark, because the moon
rose late, and the air was still, so that the dust that lifted
from beneath the feet of the oxen drifted along with the wagon.
Now and again one of the wheels bumped over a rock in the road
and the brake beam shook and rattled. At times the high-pitched
cries of the native drivers pierced the stillness. Ahead of us
the bulk of the wagon load loomed big against the stars.
When the dying moon first showed red through the branches of the
twisted trees, the safari crossed the top of the Mau and
commenced the slow descent to the valley, and the wagons in front
became lost in the darkness and the dust. When the morning star
rose, we had come to the foothills of the escarpment, and the
dawn wind sprang up cold, so that the men shivered a little in
their saddles and buttoned up their coats and began to talk.
"It was just about here that we caught the giraffe that day,"
said Kearton.
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