tions and the first few feet of the walls. Sikitola's people
proved themselves good helpers, and most of the building was left to
them, while the Dutchmen worked at the carpentry. Bricks ran short
before we got very far, and we had to set to brick-making on the bank
of the Labongo, and finish off the walls with green bricks, which gave
the place a queer piebald look.

I was not much of a carpenter, and there were plenty of builders
without me, so I found a considerable amount of time on my hands. At
first I acted as shopkeeper in the naachtmaal, but I soon cleared out
my stores to the Dutch farmers and the natives. I had thought of going
back for more, and then it occurred to me that I might profitably give
some of my leisure to the Rooirand. I could see the wall of the
mountains quite clear to the north, within an easy day's ride. So one
morning I packed enough food for a day or two, tied my sleeping-bag on
my saddle, and set off to explore, after appointing the elder of the
Dutchmen foreman of the job in my absence.

It was very hot jogging along the native path with the eternal
olive-green bush around me. Happily there was no fear of losing the
way, for the Rooirand stood very clear in front, and slowly, as I
advanced, I began to make out the details of the cliffs. At
luncheon-time, when I was about half-way, I sat down with my Zeiss
glass--my mother's farewell gift--to look for the valley. But valley I
saw none. The wall--reddish purple it looked, and, I thought, of
porphyry--was continuous and unbroken. There were chimneys and
fissures, but none great enough to hold a river. The top was sheer
cliff; then came loose kranzes in tiers, like the seats in a gallery,
and, below, a dense thicket of trees. I raked the whole line for a
break, but there seemed none. 'It's a bad job for me,' I thought, 'if
there is no water, for I must pass the night there.' The night was
spent in a sheltered nook at the foot of the rocks, but my horse and I
went to bed without a drink. My supper was some raisins and biscuits,
for I did not dare to run the risk of increasing my thirst. I had
found a great bank of debris sloping up to the kranzes, and thick wood
clothing all the slope. The grass seemed wonderfully fresh, but of
water there was no sign. There was not even the sandy channel of a
stream to dig in.

In the morning I had a difficult problem to face. Water I must find at
all costs, or I must go home. There was