Thinking black; 22 years without a break in the long grass of Central ...

THE DESERT JOURNEY 163
we encountered that curious switchback arrangement of
hills for the first week. Finally following this lively lot
of steeple-chasing it over the country, we are jolted down
into Luvaleland, literally " the Flats." Here the joys of
the future railroad surveyors begin, and long level miles
of country ahead will admit of a railway running like a
ramrod due East. Kavungu, afterwards the scene of the
sainted Cyril Bird's labours, was then only a dark den of
robbers, and a rendezvous for all the slave caravans of the
Interior. Here it is the muttering storm of revolt bursts
on us, and our craven carriers strike for higher wages.
After a five days' siege in our little forest zariba, the
enemy pulls down his flag, and all is in train for a start on
11th October for the last long stage of Eastward journey.
Struck the upper reaches of the far-flowing Zambezi on
the 18th, and on the 23rd swam across the Lukoleshe, its
last feeder intercepting our path. This means, of course,
that the rivers ahead all shed off" to the Congo basin on
the North. You would have applauded the army of
youngsters struggling across the broad Lutikina where we
forded it hard by the rapids. With load on head they
pluckily fought the rushing sheet of water, now and then
making a grab at some big brother when the flow
threatened to swish them off their feet. By the 26th we
have, far on our right, the lonely Kalene Hill, on which
dark spot the lights of Dr. and Mrs. Fisher's house
will not begin to flicker for fourteen years to come. And
now we begin to pull ourselves together, for we have
passed the longitudinal centre of the continent and hope