Their custom is to march only two or three hours on the
first day of departure, to allow stragglers who may have lagged behind
in Gondokoro to rejoin the party before morning.
We were roughly challenged by their sentries as we passed, and were
instantly told "not to remain in their neighbourhood." Accordingly we
passed on for about half a mile in advance, and bivouacked on some
rising ground above a slight hollow in which we found water. All were
busy collecting firewood and cutting grass for the donkeys and horses
who were picketed near the fires. The camels were hobbled, and turned to
graze upon the branches of a large mimosa. We were not hungry; the
constant anxiety had entirely destroyed all appetite. A cup of strong
black coffee was the greatest luxury, and not requiring a tent in the
clear still night, we were soon asleep on our simple angareps. Before
daylight on the following morning the drum beat; the lazy soldiers,
after stretching and yawning, began to load the animals, and we started
at six o'clock. In these climates the rising of the sun is always
dreaded. For about an hour before sunrise the air is deliciously cool
and invigorating, but the sun is regarded as the common enemy. There is,
nevertheless, a difficulty in starting before sunrise-the animals cannot
be properly loaded in the darkness, and the operation being tedious, the
cool hour of morning is always lost.
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