.The thunder warned us with tremendous explosions
just above us, while the lightning flashed almost at our
feet with blinding vividness. A cold wind suddenly
rushed through the hitherto calm air ; this is the certain
precursor of rain in hot climates, the heavier cold air
of the rain-cloud f a i l i n g into the stratum of warmer
a,n d lighter atmosphere below. I t did rain ;—in such
torrents as only the inhabitants of tropical countries
can understand. “ Cover up the gunlocks ! ”—and the
pieces of mackintosh for that purpose were immediately
secured in their places. Well, let it rain !—it is rather
pleasant to be wet through in a country where the
thermometer is seldom below 92° Fahr., especially when
there is no doubt of getting wet through;—not like
the wretched drizzling rain of England, that chills you
with the fear that perhaps your great-coat is not waterproof,
but a regular douche bath that would beat in
the crown of a cheap hat. How delightful to be really
cool in the centre of Africa ! I was charmingly wet—
the water was running out of the heels of my shoes,
which were overflowing; the wind howled over the
flood that was pouring through the hitherto dry gullies,
and in the course of ten minutes the whole scene had
.changed. I t was no longer the tropics; the climate
was that of old England restored to me : the- chilled
air refreshed me, and I felt at home again. “ How
delightful! 1 1 exclaimed, as I turned round to see how:
my followers were enjoying it. Dear m e ! I hardly;
knew my own people. Of all the miserable individuals
I ever saw, they were superlative—they were not enjoying
the change of climate in the least;—with heads
tucked down and streams of water running from their
nasal extremities, they endeavoured to avoid the storm.
Perfectly thoughtless of all but self in the extremity
of their misery, they had neglected the precaution of
lowering the muzzles of their guns, and my beautiful
No. 10 rifles were full of water. “ Charming d ay ! ” I
exclaimed to my soaked and shivering followers, who
looked like kittens in a pond. They muttered something
that might be interpreted “ What’s fun to you is
death to us.” I comforted them with the assurance
that this was an English climate on a midsummer day.
If my clothed Arabs suffered from cold, where was my
naked guide ? He was the most pitiable object I ever
saw; with teeth chattering and knees knocking together
with cold, he crouched under the imaginary shelter of
a large tamarind tre e ; he was no longer the clean black
that had started as my guide, but the cold and wet
had turned him grey, and being thin, he looked like an
exaggerated slate-pencil.
Not wishing to discourage my men, I unselfishly
turned back just as I was beginning to enjoy myself;