Niger

route as he had taken in returning from it. The
next wide stretch of his march was to Medina, the
capital of Woolli. A long and colourful procession,
the soldiers with their muskets slung, in their
stifling red coats, marching or riding on laden
donkeys, strung through the forests from Pisania,
seeking the cool shade of the giant trees as they
marched, and at night the shelter of the village
huts. In the dark the Goree soldiers would listen
with a catch of breath to the cough and growl of
prowling lions, and loosen their soaking uniforms
from about their heat-perspired bodies, gasping
for a draught of fresh air, hoping for another long
halt.
But Mungo was now insatiable of speed. The
heat did not affect him, nor Alexander Anderson
nor Scott at first, though their food and gear were
much of the quality of the soldiers’. Mungo’s
dyspepsia had shown no sign of returning. He was
cold and yet on fire with resolution, rousing the
heat-hazed laggards each morning to take the trail
through the wilting grasses of the wilderness.
It grew more and more hot and the air more
stifling as they marched into the interior and the
rainy season. They would loosen their tunics and
kneel by pools in the forest, drinking the stagnant
water, the soldiers. Mungo himself knew nothing
to forbid the practice. Presently two of the men fell
ill of dysentery, and staggered in great pain m the
rear of the caravan. Mungo came to a swift
decision. On the 8th of May he abandoned them
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