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Orkies' Journal 9 June '71

June 9, 1971

Moving deeper inland, the very air grew barely breatheable in this damp and oppresive heat. The river now twisted and turned so that the rotting jungle now closed in on us from all sides as if it were some monstrous bird of prey waiting for us to weaken. My indomitable spirit never weakens however, but I do seem to be crying a little more often now. Rounding a sharp bend we came upon the spot where we were to meet our head guide, Sir Stanley Livingston, KCB, but there was naught in sight but a rather large rinoceros. (not rhinoceros)

The quivering of a nearby mblapa tree soon showed us that Sir Stanley was, indeed here after all. "Been waiting long, old tot?" I shouted. "A-a-ass," he replied. (strangely familiar, that reaction to me).

Sir Stanley had been up the tree since last Tuesday and we had little problem getting him down as the rino, (not rhino), had fallen asleep and probably had forotten why it was there in the first place. On next to Rungwa to hire our native bearers, hoping that their strike is finished.


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