The blood on my clothing made me a veritable feeding-place of flies, until I threw most of it off, and then began to suffer in addition from bites I could not feel before, and from the sharp points of beckoning undergrowth.

My bare legs began to bleed from scratches, and the flies swooped anew on those, and clung as if they grew there.
Will climbed a huge tree, at imminent risk of pythons and rotten branches, and descried open country on our right front.

We made for it, I walking last to take advantage of the others' wake, and after more than an hour of most prodigious effort we emerged on rolling rocky country under a ledge that overhung a thousand feet sheer above us on the side of Elgon.

To our right was all green grass, sloping away from us.
There was a camp half a mile away pitched on the edge of the forest--a white man's tent--a mule--meat hanging to dry in the wind under a branch--two tents for natives--and a pile of bags and boxes orderly arranged.

We could see a man sitting under a big tent awning.