hundred and
seventy-six miles from Mombasa and within a few miles of the great Athi
Plains, the latter being treeless and waterless expanses, bare of
everything except grass, which the great herds of game keep closely
cropped. After leaving Tsavo, the character of the country remains
unaltered for some considerable distance, the line continuing to run
through the thorny nyika, and it is not until Makindu is reached--about
two hundred miles from the coast--that a change is apparent. From this
place, however, the journey lies through a fairly open and interesting
tract of country, where game of all kinds abounds and can be seen
grazing peacefully within a few hundred yards of the railway. On the
way I was lucky enough to get some fine views of Kilima N'jaro, the
whole mountain from base to summit standing out clearly and grandly,
with the lofty peak of Kibo topping the fleecy clouds with its snowy
head.

At Machakos Road I found the country and the climate very different
from that to which I had grown accustomed at Tsavo. Here I could see
for miles across stretches of beautiful, open downs, timbered here and
there like an English park; and it was a great relief to be able to
overlook a wide tract of country and to feel that I was no longer
hemmed in on all sides by the interminable and depressing thorny
wilderness. As Machakos Road is some four thousand feet higher above
the sea level than Tsavo, the difference in temperature was also very
marked, and the air felt fresh and cool compared with that of the
sun-baked valley in which I had spent the previous year.

My instructions were to hurry on the construction of the line as fast
as possible to Nairobi, the proposed headquarters of the Railway
Administration, which lay about fifty miles further on across the Athi
Plains; and I soon began to find platelaying most interesting work.
Everything has to move as if by clockwork. First the earth surface has
to be prepared and rendered perfectly smooth and level; cuttings have
to be made and hollows banked up; tunnels have to be bored through
hills and bridges thrown across rivers. Then a line of coolies moves
along, placing sleepers at regular intervals; another gang drops the
rails in their places; yet another brings along the keys, fishplates,
bolts and nuts while following these are the men who actually fix the
rails on the sleepers and link up from one to another. Finally, the
packing gang finishes the work by filling in e