monarch, and I was compelled to defer the completion of my work to other opportunities. Meanwhile, I extended my walks, gun my walks, gun in hand, and a collecting portfolio on my back, in all directions, but my first favourite stroll was up the valley of our little stream. Following the tiny path which ran parallel with our

irrigating channel, I came to the place where the latter branched off from the parent stream. Here, at will, a passing native could cut off our water-supply by laying a packet of grass and mud athwart the little channel, and, therefore, bearing this in mind, and regarding also the fertility and beauty of the rich valley (full of the alluvial soil washed down from the

hill-sides by the rain), I resolved that hereabouts my principal plantations should be made. I obtained Mandara's consent to the plan, and accordingly set my man, Kadu Stanley, to work at once, directing him to clear away the brushwood, burn it, mix the ashes with the soil, and then plough the whole field up and break the clods of earth. Soon many a rich bed of dark red earth was sown with seed, and separated from its fellows by little runnels, along which, once a day or oftener, water, diverted from the nearest waterfall, was turned. Indeed, perpetual irrigation was here much simplified. The plenteous stream went bounding through the valley, with a cascade every hundred yards or so. From the head of these waterfalls nothing was easier than to divert a stream on either side, carry it along a banked-up channel above your plantations, and turn the water wherever you willed into the network of tiny trenches which intersected the plots of ground.

However, artificial irrigation seemed almost a superfluity in Čaga, where never a month passed without rain, and where the climate was as moist as that of Devonshire. I soon began to find that my first care must be to get a rain-proof roof to sleep under. Our primal houses were roughly made in a very few days. The men proceeded to the forest, cut a certain number of poles, used those that were forked at one extremity as "uprights," and laid the horizontal rods across them, tying everything securely with long lithe strips of wetted banana fibre. Then to this rough framework they affixed a number of smaller sticks, until a rough lattice-work was formed, and finally, the whole, roof and all, would be neatly thatched with the old fronds of the banana-tree, resembling brown paper in

look and texture. (By-the-bye, when civilization extends to Africa and people have got beyond the stage when they only seek for gold or diamonds, it strikes me that sun-dried banana leaves would form an admirable material for paper-making, superior to esparto grass.) Provided the roof was done with care, it ought to be completely rain-tight. As it was, a little patching generally had to take place after the first shower. No windows, of course, were made. Light was obtained from the open doorway, which was closed at night by a mackintosh curtain and a door of wooden framework. Inside, the earthen floor was stamped hard by men's feet, and before inhabiting the house numerous fires were burnt on the ground and their ashes pounded into the beaten earth. Of course a trench or moat, to carry off the heavy rain, was dug all round the house, so that it generally happened that these hastily-constructed abodes were wonderfully dry and snug. When the house was built for my own occupation I had a large mat made from plaited strips of the useful "migomba" (dried banana leaves), and thrown down on the bare floor of beaten earth. Then, on this, one or two wild beasts' skins or a bright-coloured Zanzibar "mkeka" (dyed grass mat), added quite a comfortable look to the interior. My bed was mounted in one corner, my portable table stood in the centre of the dwelling, boxes of necessaries were arranged along the walls, my washingbasin was poised on a roughly-made tripod, shelves were hastily rigged up to support the lighter articles of my equipment, and lastly, nails and hooks were knocked into the accommodating rafters, and from these depended all the heterogeneous articles that would let themselves be hung up.

Similar habitations were constructed for my men, paths were cleared and open spaces mowed, and soon, where before had been little but the pristine wilderness, rose the first decided outlines of my little colony.

CHAPTER VII.

(6 HALCYON DAYS."

ABOUT a month was spent in the calm and contemplative occupations described in the last chapter.

This period seemed in one way to pass all too quickly, for the days slipped by one after the other, and no date stood marked out prominently by extraordinary events; and yet for the amount of work performed and for the changes in our environment, that first short term of our residence on Kilima-njaro was an age, a cycle of history, especially for the natives. While two-thirds of my men were tramping to Taita and back to fetch the rest of my goods, I, with the remaining third, was hard at work during every twelve hours of daylight. Not only did we build the temporary houses and plant the kitchen-gardens I have already described, but we installed our cows and goats in a spacious stable, constructed with sufficient strength to resist a night attack from leopards; we set going a poultry-run of eighty fowls; and we established a primitive dairy, wherein the milk from our animals was laid out in large flat wooden dishes (bought from the natives), and produced such a liberal quantity of cream that when enough had been taken to churn into butter (this operation was really performed by shaking in a large bottle), the remainder served to enrich my