I do not think that I ever saw anything more
remarkable than the appearance of one of these mighty trees festooned
from top to bottom with trailing wreaths of this sad-hued moss, in which
the wind whispers gently as it stirs them. At a distance it looks like
the gray locks of a Titan crowned with bright green leaves, and here and
there starred with the rich bloom of orchids.
"The night of that day on which I had my little difference of opinion
with Gobo, we camped by the edge of this great forest, and on the
following morning at daylight I started out shooting. As we were short
of meat I determined to kill a buffalo, of which there were plenty
about, before looking for traces of elephants. Not more than half a mile
from camp we came across a trail broad as a cart-road, evidently made by
a great herd of buffaloes which had passed up at dawn from their feeding
ground in the marshes, to spend the day in the cool air of the uplands.
This trail I followed boldly; for such wind as there was blew straight
down the mountain-side, that is, from the direction in which the
buffaloes had gone, to me. About a mile further on the forest began to
be dense, and the nature of the trail showed me that I must be close to
my game. Another two hundred yards and the bush was so thick that, had
it not been for the trail, we could scarcely have passed through it.
As it was, Gobo, who carried my eight-bore rifle (for I had the
.570-express in my hand), and the other two men whom I had taken with
me, showed the very strongest dislike to going any further, pointing
out that there was 'no room to run away.
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