the land of footprints-第5部分
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imagination。
The country； then； wherein we travelled begins at the sea。 Along the coast stretches a low rolling country of steaming tropics； grown with cocoanuts； bananas； mangoes； and populated by a happy； half…naked race of the Swahilis。 Leaving the coast； the country rises through hills。 These hills are at first fertile and green and wooded。 Later they turn into an almost unbroken plateau of thorn scrub； cruel； monotonous； almost impenetrable。 Fix thorn scrub in your mind； with rhino trails； and occasional openings for game； and a few rivers flowing through palms and narrow jungle strips； fix it in your mind until your mind is filled with it； until you are convinced that nothing else can exist in the world but more and more of the monotonous； terrible； dry； onstretching desert of thorn。
Then pass through this to the top of the hills inland； and journey over these hills to the highland plains。
Now sense and appreciate these wide seas of and the hills and ranges of mountains rising from them； and their infinite diversity of country…their rivers marked by ribbons of jungle； their scattered…bush and their thick…bush areas； their grass expanses； and their great distances extending far over exceedingly wide horizons。 Realize how many weary hours you must travel to gain the nearest butte； what days of toil the view from its top will disclose。 Savour the fact that you can spend months in its veriest corner without exhausting its possibilities。 Then； and not until then； raise your eyes to the low rising transverse range that bands it to the west as the thorn desert bands it to the east。
And on these ranges are the forests； the great bewildering forests。 In what looks like a grove lying athwart a little hill you can lose yourself for days。 Here dwell millions of savages in an apparently untouched wilderness。 Here rises a snow mountain on the equator。 Here are tangles and labyrinths； great bamboo forests lost in folds of the mightiest hills。 Here are the elephants。 Here are the swinging vines； the jungle itself。
Yet finally it breaks。 We come out on the edge of things and look down on a great gash in the earth。 It is like a sunken kingdom in itself； miles wide； with its own mountain ranges； its own rivers； its own landscape features。 Only on either side of it rise the escarpments which are the true level of the plateau。 One can spend two months in this valley； too； and in the countries south to which it leads。 And on its farther side are the high plateau plains again； or the forests； or the desert； or the great lakes that lie at the source of the Nile。
So now； perhaps； we are a little prepared to go ahead。 The guide…book work is finished for good and all。 There is the steaming hot low coast belt； and the hot dry thorn desert belt； and the varied immense plains； and the high mountain belt of the forests； and again the variegated wide country of the Rift Valley and the high plateau。 To attempt to tell you seriatim and in detail just what they are like is the task of an encyclopaedist。 Perhaps more indirectly you may be able to fill in the picture of the country； the people； and the beasts。
IV。 THE FIRST CAMP
Our very first start into the new country was made when we piled out from the little train standing patiently awaiting the good pleasure of our descent。 That feature strikes me with ever new wonder…the accommodating way trains of the Uganda Railway have of waiting for you。 One day； at a little wayside station； C。 and I were idly exchanging remarks with the only white man in sight； killing time until the engine should whistle to a resumption of the journey。 The guard lingered about just out of earshot。 At the end of five minutes C。 happened to catch his eye； whereupon he ventured to approach。
〃When you have finished your conversation；〃 said he politely； 〃we are all ready to go on。〃
On the morning in question there were a lot of us to disembark…one hundred and twenty…two； to be exact…of which four were white。 We were not yet acquainted with our men； nor yet with our stores； nor with the methods of our travel。 The train went off and left us in the middle of a high plateau； with low ridges running across it； and mountains in the distance。 Men were squabbling earnestly for the most convenient loads to carry； and as fast as they had gained undisputed possession； they marked the loads with some private sign of their own。 M'ganga； the headman； tall； fierce； big…framed and bony； clad in fez； a long black overcoat； blue puttees and boots； stood stiff as a ramrod； extended a rigid right arm and rattled off orders in a high dynamic voice。 In his left hand he clasped a bulgy umbrella； the badge of his dignity and the symbol of his authority。 The four askaris； big men too； with masterful high…cheekboned countenances； rushed here and there seeing that the orders were carried out。 Expostulations； laughter； the sound of quarrelling rose and fell。 Never could the combined volume of it all override the firecracker stream of M'ganga's eloquence。
We had nothing to do with it all； but stood a little dazed； staring at the novel scene。 Our men were of many tribes； each with its own cast of features； its own notions of what befitted man's performance of his duties here below。 They stuck together each in its clan。 A fine free individualism of personal adornment characterized them。 Every man dressed for his own satisfaction solely。 They hung all sorts of things in the distended lobes of their ears。 One had succeeded in inserting a fine big glittering tobacco tin。 Others had invented elaborate topiary designs in their hair； shaving their heads so as to leave strange tufts； patches； crescents on the most unexpected places。 Of the intricacy of these designs they seemed absurdly proud。 Various sorts of treasure trove hung from them…a bunch of keys to which there were no locks； discarded hunting knives； tips of antelope horns； discharged brass cartridges； a hundred and one valueless trifles plucked proudly from the rubbish heap。 They were all clothed。 We had supplied each with a red blanket； a blue jersey； and a water bottle。 The blankets they were twisting most ingeniously into turbans。 Beside these they sported a great variety of garments。 Shooting coats that had seen better days； a dozen shabby overcoats…worn proudly through the hottest noons…raggety breeches and trousers made by some London tailor； queer baggy homemades of the same persuasion； or quite simply the square of cotton cloth arranged somewhat like a short tight skirt； or nothing at all as the man's taste ran。 They were many of them amusing enough； but somehow they did not look entirely farcical and ridiculous； like our negroes putting on airs。 All these things were worn with a simplicity of quiet confidence in their entire fitness。 And beneath the red blanket turbans the half…wild savage faces peered out。
Now Mahomet approached。 Mahomet was my personal boy。 He was a Somali from the Northwest coast； dusky brown； with the regular clear…cut features of a Greek marble god。 His dress was of neat khaki； and he looked down on savages； but； also； as with all the dark…skinned races； up to his white master。 Mahomet was with me during all my African stay； and tested out nobly。 As yet； of course； I did not know him。
〃Chakula taiari；〃 said he。
That is Swahili。 It means literally 〃food is ready。〃 After one has hunted in Africa for a few months； it means also 〃paradise is opened；〃 〃grief is at an end；〃 〃joy and thanksgiving are now in order；〃 and similar affairs。 Those two words are never forgotten； and the veriest beginner in Swahili can recognize them without the slightest effort。
We followed Mahomet。 Somehow； without orders； in all this confusion； the personal staff had been quietly and efficiently busy。 Drawn a little to one side stood a table with four chairs。 The table was covered with a white cloth； and was set with a beautiful white enamel service。 We took our places。 Behind each chair straight as a ramrod stood a neat khaki…clad boy。 They brought us food； and presented it properly on the left side； waiting like well…trained butlers。 We might have been in a London restaurant。 As three of us were Americans； we felt a trifle dazed。 The porters； having finished the distribution of their loads； squatted on their heels and watched us respectfully。
And then； not two hundred yards away； four ostriches paced slowly across the track； paying not the slightest attention to us…our first real wild ostriches； scornful of oranges； careless of tourists； and rightful guardians of their own snowy plumes。 The passage of these four solemn birds seemed somehow to lend this strange open…air meal an exotic flavour。 We were indeed in Africa； and the ostriches helped us to realize it。
We finished breakfast and arose from our chairs。 Instantly a half dozen men sprang forward。 Before our amazed eyes the table service； the chairs and the table itself disappeared into neat packages。 M'ganga arose to his feet。
〃Bandika！〃 he cried。
The askaris rushed here and there actively。
〃Bandika！ bandika！ bandika！〃 they cried repeatedly。
The men sprang into activity。 A struggle heaved the varicoloured multitude…and； lo！ each man stood upright； his load balanced on his head。 At the same moment
