After one look at him, you were filled with such distrust and suspicion that you would hardly believe him if he said he thought it was going to rain, or that crops were looking up.
With this man as a guide, and with four more who were tempted by the bright red blankets we gave, our caravan started on one of the strangest and perhaps most foolhardy trips that presumably sane people ever made.
In the first place, probably fewer than half a dozen white men had ever ascended Mount Elgon.

There were no adequate maps of the region, and the one we had was woefully inaccurate.

It was made as if from telegraphic description, and the only thing in which it proved trustworthy was that there was a mountain there and that it was about fourteen thousand two hundred feet high, and that the line separating British East Africa from Uganda ran through the crater at the top.
Our delay at the Ketosh village had greatly reduced our food supplies for the porters, and there was only enough left to last six days.

In that time we should have to ascend the mountain and descend to some place where food supplies could be procured.

It all looked quite quixotic.