THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS

by Stewart Edward White

1913

I. ON BOOKS OF ADVENTURE

Books of sporting, travel, and adventure in countries little known tothe average reader naturally fall in two classes-neither, with a veryfew exceptions, of great value. One class is perhaps the logical resultof the other. 

Of the first type is the book that is written to make the most of fartravels, to extract from adventure the last thrill, to impress theawestricken reader with a full sense of the danger and hardship thewriter has undergone. Thus, if the latter takes out quite an ordinaryroutine permit to go into certain districts, he makes the most oftravelling in "closed territory, " implying that he has obtained anespecial privilege, and has penetrated where few have gone before him. As a matter of fact, the permit is issued merely that the authoritiesmay keep track of who is where. Anybody can get one. This class ofwriter tells of shooting beasts at customary ranges of four and fivehundred yards. I remember one in especial who airily and as a matterof fact killed all his antelope at such ranges. Most men have shotoccasional beasts at a quarter mile or so, but not airily nor asa matter of fact: rather with thanksgiving and a certain amount ofsurprise. The gentleman of whom I speak mentioned getting an eland atseven hundred and fifty yards. By chance I happened to mention this to anative Africander. 

"Yes, " said he, "I remember that; I was there. "

This interested me-and I said so. 

"He made a long shot, " said I. 

"A GOOD long shot, " replied the Africander. 

"Did you pace the distance?"

He laughed. "No, " said he, "the old chap was immensely delighted. 'Eighthundred yards if it was an inch!' he cried. "

"How far was it?"

"About three hundred and fifty. But it was a long shot, all right. "

And it was! Three hundred and fifty yards is a very long shot. It isover four city blocks-New York size. But if you talk often enough andglibly enough of "four and five hundred yards, " it does not sound likemuch, does it?

The same class of writer always gets all the thrills. He speaks of"blanched cheeks, " of the "thrilling suspense, " and so on down the gamutof the shilling shocker. His stuff makes good reading; there is nodoubt of that. The spellbound public likes it, and to that extent it hasfulfilled its mission. Also, the reader believes it to the letter-whyshould he not? Only there is this curious result: he carries away inhis mind the impression of unreality, of a country impossible tobe understood and gauged and savoured by the ordinary human mentalequipment. It is interesting, just as are historical novels, or thecopper-riveted heroes of modern fiction, but it has no real relationwith human life. In the last analysis the inherent untruth of thething forces itself on him. He believes, but he does not apprehend; heacknowledges the fact, but he cannot grasp its human quality. The affairis interesting, but it is more or less concocted of pasteboard for hisamusement. Thus essential truth asserts its right. 

All this, you must understand, is probably not a deliberate attemptto deceive. It is merely the recrudescence under the stimulus of abrand-new environment of the boyish desire to be a hero. When a manjumps back into the Pleistocene he digs up some of his ancestors'cave-qualities. Among these is the desire for personal adornment. Hismodern development of taste precludes skewers in the ears and polishedwire around the neck; so he adorns himself in qualities instead. It isquite an engaging and diverting trait of character. The attitude of mindit both presupposes and helps to bring about is too complicated for mybrief analysis. In itself it is no more blameworthy than the small boy'spretence at Indians in the back yard; and no more praiseworthy thaninfantile decoration with feathers. 

In its results, however, we are more concerned. Probably each of us hashis mental picture that passes as a symbol rather than an idea of thedifferent continents. This is usually a single picture-a deep river, with forest, hanging snaky vines, anacondas and monkeys for the eastcoast of South America, for example. It is built up in youth by chancereading and chance pictures, and does as well as a pink place on themap to stand for a part of the world concerning which we know nothing atall. As time goes on we extend, expand, and modify this picture in thelight of what knowledge we may acquire. So the reading of many booksmodifies and expands our first crude notions of Equatorial Africa. Andthe result is, if we read enough of the sort I describe above, we buildthe idea of an exciting, dangerous, extra-human continent, visited byhalf-real people of the texture of the historical-fiction hero, who havestrange and interesting adventures which we could not possibly imaginehappening to ourselves. 

This type of book is directly responsible for the second sort. Theauthor of this is deadly afraid of being thought to brag of hisadventures. He feels constantly on him the amusedly critical eye of theold-timer. When he comes to describe the first time a rhino dashed inhis direction, he remembers that old hunters, who have been so chargedhundreds of times, may read the book. Suddenly, in that light, theadventure becomes pitifully unimportant. He sets down the fact that "wemet a rhino that turned a bit nasty, but after a shot in the shoulderdecided to leave us alone. " Throughout he keeps before his mind's eyethe imaginary audience of those who have done. He writes for them, to please them, to convince them that he is not "swelled head, " nor"cocky, " nor "fancies himself, " nor thinks he has done, been, or seenanything wonderful. It is a good, healthy frame of mind to be in; butit, no more than the other type, can produce books that leave on theminds of the general public any impression of a country in relation to areal human being. 

As a matter of fact, the same trouble is at the bottom of both failures. The adventure writer, half unconsciously perhaps, has been too muchoccupied play-acting himself into half-forgotten boyhood heroics. Themore modest man, with even more self-consciousness, has been thinking ofhow he is going to appear in the eyes of the expert. Both have thoughtof themselves before their work. This aspect of the matter wouldprobably vastly astonish the modest writer. 

If, then, one is to formulate an ideal toward which to write, he mightexpress it exactly in terms of man and environment. Those readersdesiring sheer exploration can get it in any library: those in searchof sheer romantic adventure can purchase plenty of it at any book-stall. But the majority want something different from either of these. Theywant, first of all, to know what the country is like-not in vague andgrandiose "word paintings, " nor in strange and foreign sounding wordsand phrases, but in comparison with something they know. What is itnearest like-Arizona? Surrey? Upper New York? Canada? Mexico? Or is ittotally different from anything, as is the Grand Canyon? When you lookout from your camp-any one camp-how far do you see, and what do yousee?-mountains in the distance, or a screen of vines or bamboo nearhand, or what? When you get up in the morning, what is the first thingto do? What does a rhino look like, where he lives, and what did you dothe first time one came at you? I don't want you to tell me as though Iwere either an old hunter or an admiring audience, or as though you wereafraid somebody might think you were making too much of the matter. Iwant to know how you REALLY felt. Were you scared or nervous? or did youbecome cool? Tell me frankly just how it was, so I can see the thing ashappening to a common everyday human being. Then, even at second-handand at ten thousand miles distance, I can enjoy it actually, humanly, even though vicariously, speculating a bit over my pipe as to how Iwould have liked it myself. 

Obviously, to write such a book the author must at the same time sinkhis ego and exhibit frankly his personality. The paradox in this is onlyapparent. He must forget either to strut or to blush with diffidence. Neither audience should be forgotten, and neither should be exclusivelyaddressed. Never should he lose sight of the wholesome fact that oldhunters are to read and to weigh; never should he for a moment slipinto the belief that he is justified in addressing the expert alone. Hisattitude should be that many men know more and have done more than he, but that for one reason or another these men are not ready to transmittheir knowledge and experience. 

To set down the formulation of an ideal is one thing: to fulfil it isanother. In the following pages I cannot claim a fulfilment, but only anattempt. The foregoing dissertation must be considered not as a promise, but as an explanation. No one knows better than I how limited myAfrican experience is, both in time and extent, bounded as it is by EastEquatorial Africa and a year. Hundreds of men are better qualified thanmyself to write just this book; but unfortunately they will not do it. 

II. AFRICA

In looking back on the multitudinous pictures that the word Africabids rise in my memory, four stand out more distinctly than theothers. Strangely enough, these are by no means all pictures of averagecountry-the sort of thing one would describe as typical. Perhaps, in away, they symbolize more the spirit of the country to me, for certainlythey represent but a small minority of its infinitely varied aspects. But since we must make a start somewhere, and since for some reasonthese four crowd most insistently in the recollection it might be wellto begin with them. 

Our camp was pitched under a single large mimosa tree near the edge ofa deep and narrow ravine down which a stream flowed. A semicircle of lowmountains hemmed us in at the distance of several miles. The other sideof the semicircle was occupied by the upthrow of a low rise blockingoff an horizon at its nearest point but a few hundred yards away. Treesmarked the course of the stream; low scattered bushes alternated withopen plain. The grass grew high. We had to cut it out to make camp. 

Nothing indicated that we were otherwise situated than in a verypleasant, rather wide grass valley in the embrace of the mountains. Onlya walk of a few hundred yards atop the upthrow of the low rise revealedthe fact that it was in reality the lip of a bench, and that beyondit the country fell away in sheer cliffs whose ultimate drop was somefifteen hundred feet. One could sit atop and dangle his feet overunguessed abysses. 

For a week we had been hunting for greater kudu. Each day Memba Sasa andI went in one direction, while Mavrouki and Kongoni took another line. We looked carefully for signs, but found none fresher than the monthbefore. Plenty of other game made the country interesting; but we wereafter a shy and valuable prize, so dared not shoot lesser things. Atlast, at the end of the week, Mavrouki came in with a tale of eightlions seen in the low scrub across the stream. The kudu business wasabout finished, as far as this place went, so we decided to take a lookfor the lions. 

We ate by lantern and at the first light were ready to start. But atthat moment, across the slope of the rim a few hundred yards away, appeared a small group of sing-sing. These are a beautiful big beast, with widespread horns, proud and wonderful, like Landseer's stags, andI wanted one of them very much. So I took the Springfield, and droppedbehind the line of some bushes. The stalk was of the ordinary sort. One has to remain behind cover, to keep down wind, to make no quickmovements. Sometimes this takes considerable manoeuvring; especially, asnow, in the case of a small band fairly well scattered out for feeding. Often after one has succeeded in placing them all safely behind thescattered cover, a straggler will step out into view. Then the huntermust stop short, must slowly, oh very, very slowly, sink down out ofsight; so slowly, in fact, that he must not seem to move, but rather tomelt imperceptibly away. Then he must take up his progress at a lowerplane of elevation. Perhaps he needs merely to stoop; or he may crawlon hands and knees; or he may lie flat and hitch himself forward by histoes, pushing his gun ahead. If one of the beasts suddenly looksvery intently in his direction, he must freeze into no matter whatuncomfortable position, and so remain an indefinite time. Even ahotel-bred child to whom you have rashly made advances stares no longernor more intently than a buck that cannot make you out. 

I had no great difficulty with this lot, but slipped up quitesuccessfully to within one hundred and fifty yards. There I raised myhead behind a little bush to look. Three does grazed nearest me, theircoats rough against the chill of early morning. Up the slope were twomore does and two funny, fuzzy babies. An immature buck occupied theextreme left with three young ladies. But the big buck, the leader, theboss of the lot, I could not see anywhere. Of course he must be about, and I craned my neck cautiously here and there trying to make him out. 

Suddenly, with one accord, all turned and began to trot rapidly away tothe right, their heads high. In the strange manner of animals, they hadreceived telepathic alarm, and had instantly obeyed. Then beyond andfar to the right I at last saw the beast I had been looking for. The oldvillain had been watching me all the time!

The little herd in single file made their way rapidly along the faceof the rise. They were headed in the direction of the stream. Now, Ihappened to know that at this point the stream-canyon was bordered bysheer cliffs. Therefore, the sing-sing must round the hill, and notcross the stream. By running to the top of the hill I might catch aglimpse of them somewhere below. So I started on a jog trot, trying tohit the golden mean of speed that would still leave me breath to shoot. This was an affair of some nicety in the tall grass. Just before Ireached the actual slope, however, I revised my schedule. The reason wassupplied by a rhino that came grunting to his feet about seventy yardsaway. He had not seen me, and he had not smelled me, but the generaldisturbance of all these events had broken into his early morning nap. He looked to me like a person who is cross before breakfast, so I duckedlow and ran around him. The last I saw of him he was still standingthere, quite disgruntled, and evidently intending to write to thedirectors about it. 

Arriving at the top, I looked eagerly down. The cliff fell away at animpossible angle, but sheer below ran out a narrow bench fifty yardswide. Around the point of the hill to my right-where the herd had gone-agame trail dropped steeply to this bench. I arrived just in time to seethe sing-sing, still trotting, file across the bench and over its edge, on some other invisible game trail, to continue their descent of thecliff. The big buck brought up the rear. At the very edge he came to ahalt, and looked back, throwing his head up and his nose out so that theheavy fur on his neck stood forward like a ruff. It was a last glimpseof him, so I held my little best, and pulled trigger. 

This happened to be one of those shots I spoke of-which the perpetratoraccepts with a thankful and humble spirit. The sing-sing leaped high inthe air and plunged over the edge of the bench. I signalled the camp-inplain sight-to come and get the head and meat, and sat down to wait. Andwhile waiting, I looked out on a scene that has since been to me one ofmy four symbolizations of Africa. 

The morning was dull, with gray clouds through which at wide intervalsstreamed broad bands of misty light. Below me the cliff fell away clearto a gorge in the depths of which flowed a river. Then the land beganto rise, broken, sharp, tumbled, terrible, tier after tier, gorgeafter gorge, one twisted range after the other, across a breathlesslyimmeasurable distance. The prospect was full of shadows thrown by thetumult of lava. In those shadows one imagined stranger abysses. Far downto the right a long narrow lake inaugurated a flatter, alkali-whitenedcountry of low cliffs in long straight lines. Across the distancesproper to a dozen horizons the tumbled chaos heaved and fell. The eyesought rest at the bounds usual to its accustomed world-and went on. There was no roundness to the earth, no grateful curve to drop thisgreat fierce country beyond a healing horizon out of sight. Theimmensity of primal space was in it, and the simplicity of primalthings-rough, unfinished, full of mystery. There was no colour. Thescene was done in slate gray, darkening to the opaque where a tinydistant rain squall started; lightening in the nearer shadows to revealhalf-guessed peaks; brightening unexpectedly into broad short bandsof misty gray light slanting from the gray heavens above to the sombretortured immensity beneath. It was such a thing as Gustave Dore mighthave imaged to serve as an abiding place for the fierce chaotic spiritof the African wilderness. 

I sat there for some time hugging my knees, waiting for the men to come. The tremendous landscape seemed to have been willed to immobility. Therain squalls forty miles or more away did not appear to shift theirshadows; the rare slanting bands of light from the clouds were asconstant as though they were falling through cathedral windows. Butnearer at hand other things were forward. The birds, thousands of them, were doing their best to cheer things up. The roucoulements of dovesrose from the bushes down the face of the cliffs; the bell bird utteredhis clear ringing note; the chime bird gave his celebrated imitation ofa really gentlemanly sixty-horse power touring car hinting you out ofthe way with the mellowness of a chimed horn; the bottle bird pouredgallons of guggling essence of happiness from his silver jug. Fromthe direction of camp, evidently jumped by the boys, a steinbuck lopedgracefully, pausing every few minutes to look back, his dainty legstense, his sensitive ears pointed toward the direction of disturbance. 

And now, along the face of the cliff, I make out the flashing of muchmovement, half glimpsed through the bushes. Soon a fine old-man baboon, his tail arched after the dandified fashion of the baboon aristocracystepped out, looked around, and bounded forward. Other old men followedhim, and then the young men, and a miscellaneous lot of half-grownyoungsters. The ladies brought up the rear, with the babies. These rodetheir mothers' backs, clinging desperately while they leaped along, forall the world like the pathetic monkey "jockeys" one sees strapped tothe backs of big dogs in circuses. When they had approached to withinfifty yards, remarked "hullo!" to them. Instantly they all stopped. Those in front stood up on their hind legs; those behind clambered topoints of vantage on rocks and the tops of small bushes: They all tooka good long look at me. Then they told me what they thought about mepersonally, the fact of my being there, and the rude way I had startledthem. Their remarks were neither complimentary nor refined. The oldmen, in especial, got quite profane, and screamed excited billingsgate. Finally they all stopped at once, dropped on all fours, and loped away, their ridiculous long tails curved in a half arc. Then for the firsttime I noticed that, under cover of the insults, the women and childrenhad silently retired. Once more I was left to the familiar gentle birdcalls, and the vast silence of the wilderness beyond. 

The second picture, also, was a view from a height, but of a totallydifferent character. It was also, perhaps, more typical of a greaterpart of East Equatorial Africa. Four of us were hunting lions withnatives-both wild and tame-and a scratch pack of dogs. More of thatlater. We had rummaged around all the morning without any results; andnow at noon had climbed to the top of a butte to eat lunch and lookabroad. 

Our butte ran up a gentle but accelerating slope to a peak of bigrounded rocks and slabs sticking out boldly from the soil of the hill. We made ourselves comfortable each after his fashion. The gunbearersleaned against rocks and rolled cigarettes. The savages squatted ontheir heels, planting their spears ceremonially in front of them. Oneof my friends lay on his back, resting a huge telescope over his crossedfeet. With this he purposed seeing any lion that moved within ten miles. None of the rest of us could ever make out anything through the fearsomeweapon. Therefore, relieved from responsibility by the presence of thisDreadnaught of a 'scope, we loafed and looked about us. This is what wesaw:

Mountains at our backs, of course-at some distance; then plains in longlow swells like the easy rise and fall of a tropical sea, wave afterwave, and over the edge of the world beyond a distant horizon. Here andthere on this plain, single hills lay becalmed, like ships at sea; somepeaked, some cliffed like buttes, some long and low like the hulls ofbattleships. The brown plain flowed up to wash their bases, liquid asthe sea itself, its tides rising in the coves of the hills, and ebbingin the valleys between. Near at hand, in the middle distance, far away, these fleets of the plain sailed, until at last hull-down over thehorizon their topmasts disappeared. Above them sailed too the phantomfleet of the clouds, shot with light, shining like silver, airy asracing yachts, yet casting here and there exaggerated shadows below. 

The sky in Africa is always very wide, greater than any other skies. Between horizon and horizon is more space than any other world contains. It is as though the cup of heaven had been pressed a little flatter;so that while the boundaries have widened, the zenith, with its flamingsun, has come nearer. And yet that is not a constant quantity either. Ihave seen one edge of the sky raised straight up a few million miles, asthough some one had stuck poles under its corners, so that the westernheaven did not curve cup-wise over to the horizon at all as it dideverywhere else, but rather formed the proscenium of a gigantic stage. On this stage they had piled great heaps of saffron yellow clouds, andstruck shafts of yellow light, and filled the spaces with the luridportent of a storm-while the twenty thousand foot mountains below, crouched whipped and insignificant to the earth. 

We sat atop our butte for an hour while H. Looked through his 'scope. After the soft silent immensity of the earth, running away to infinity, with its low waves, and its scattered fleet of hills, it was withdifficulty that we brought our gaze back to details and to things nearat hand. Directly below us we could make out many different-hued specks. Looking closely, we could see that those specks were game animals. Theyfed here and there in bands of from ten to two hundred, with valleys andhills between. Within the radius of the eye they moved, nowhere crowdedin big herds, but everywhere present. A band of zebras grazed the sideof one of the earth waves, a group of gazelles walked on the skyline, a herd of kongoni rested in the hollow between. On the next rise was asimilar grouping; across the valley a new variation. As far as the eyecould strain its powers it could make out more and ever more beasts. Itook up my field glasses, and brought them all to within a sixth of thedistance. After amusing myself for some time in watching them, I sweptthe glasses farther on. Still the same animals grazing on the hills andin the hollows. I continued to look, and to look again, until eventhe powerful prismatic glasses failed to show things big enough todistinguish. At the limit of extreme vision I could still make out game, and yet more game. And as I took my glasses from my eyes, and realizedhow small a portion of this great land-sea I had been able to examine;as I looked away to the ship-hills hull-down over the horizon, andrealized that over all that extent fed the Game; the ever-new wonder ofAfrica for the hundredth time filled my mind-the teeming fecundity ofher bosom. 

"Look here, " said H. Without removing his eye from the 'scope, "justbeyond the edge of that shadow to the left of the bushes in thedonga-I've been watching them ten minutes, and I can't make 'em out yet. They're either hyenas acting mighty queer, or else two lionesses. "

We snatched our glasses and concentrated on that important detail. 

To catch the third experience you must have journeyed with us across the"Thirst, " as the natives picturesquely name the waterless tract of twodays and a half. Our very start had been delayed by a breakage of someDutch-sounding essential to our ox wagon, caused by the confusion of anight attack by lions: almost every night we had lain awake as long aswe could to enjoy the deep-breathed grumbling or the vibrating roars ofthese beasts. Now at last, having pushed through the dry country tothe river in the great plain, we were able to take breath from our madhurry, and to give our attention to affairs beyond the limits of mereexpediency. One of these was getting Billy a shot at a lion. 

Billy had never before wanted to shoot anything except a python. Why apython we could not quite fathom. Personally, I think she had some vagueidea of getting even for that Garden of Eden affair. But lately, pythonsproving scarcer than in that favoured locality, she had switched to alion. She wanted, she said, to give the skin to her sister. In vainwe pointed out that a zebra hide was very decorative, that lions go toabsurd lengths in retaining possession of their own skins, and otherequally convincing facts. It must be a lion or nothing; so naturally wehad to make a try. 

There are several ways of getting lions, only one of which is at alllikely to afford a steady pot shot to a very small person trying tomanipulate an over-size gun. That is to lay out a kill. The idea is tocatch the lion at it in the early morning before he has departed forhome. The best kill is a zebra: first, because lions like zebra; second, because zebra are fairly large; third, because zebra are very numerous. 

Accordingly, after we had pitched camp just within a fringe of mimosatrees and of red-flowering aloes near the river; had eaten lunch, smokeda pipe and issued necessary orders to the men, C. And I set about theserious work of getting an appropriate bait in an appropriate place. 

The plains stretched straight away from the river bank to someindefinite and unknown distance to the south. A low range of mountainslay blue to the left; and a mantle of scrub thornbush closed the view tothe right. This did not imply that we could see far straight ahead, forthe surface of the plain rose slowly to the top of a swell about twomiles away. Beyond it reared a single butte peak at four or five timesthat distance. 

We stepped from the fringe of red aloes and squinted through the dancingheat shimmer. Near the limit of vision showed a very faint glimmeringwhitish streak. A newcomer to Africa would not have looked at it twice:nevertheless, it could be nothing but zebra. These gaudily marked beaststake queer aspects even on an open plain. Most often they show purewhite; sometimes a jet black; only when within a few hundred yards doesone distinguish the stripes. Almost always they are very easily madeout. Only when very distant and in heat shimmer, or in certain halflights of evening, does their so-called "protective colouration" seem tobe in working order, and even then they are always quite visible to theleast expert hunter's scrutiny. 

It is not difficult to kill a zebra, though sometimes it has to be doneat a fairly long range. If all you want is meat for the porters, thematter is simple enough. But when you require bait for a lion, that; isanother affair entirely. In the first place, you must be able to stalkwithin a hundred yards of your kill without being seen; in the secondplace, you must provide two or three good lying-down places for yourprospective trophy within fifteen yards of the carcass-and no more thantwo or three; in the third place, you must judge the direction of theprobable morning wind, and must be able to approach from leeward. It isevidently pretty good luck to find an accommodating zebra in just sucha spot. It is a matter of still greater nicety to drop him absolutely inhis tracks. In a case of porters' meat it does not make any particulardifference if he runs a hundred yards before he dies. With lion baiteven fifty yards makes all the difference in the world. 

C. And I talked it over and resolved to press Scallywattamus intoservice. Scallywattamus is a small white mule who is firmly convincedthat each and every bush in Africa conceals a mule-eating rhinoceros, and who does not intend to be one of the number so eaten. But we hadnoticed that at times zebra would be so struck with the strange sight ofScallywattamus carrying a man, that they would let us get quite close. C. Was to ride Scallywattamus while I trudged along under his lee readyto shoot. 

We set out through the heat shimmer, gradually rising as the plainslanted. Imperceptibly the camp and the trees marking the river's coursefell below us and into the heat haze. In the distance, close to thestream, we made out a blurred, brown-red solid mass which we knew forMasai cattle. Various little Thompson's gazelles skipped away to theleft waggling their tails vigorously and continuously as Nature longsince commanded "Tommies" to do. The heat haze steadied around the dimwhite line, so we could make out the individual animals. There wereplenty of them, dozing in the sun. A single tiny treelet broke the plainjust at the skyline of the rise. C. And I talked low-voiced as we wentalong. We agreed that the tree was an excellent landmark to come to, that the little rise afforded proper cover, and that in the morning thewind would in all likelihood blow toward the river. There were perhapstwenty zebra near enough to the chosen spot. Any of them would do. 

But the zebra did not give a hoot for Scallywattamus. At five hundredyards three or four of them awoke with a start, stared at us a minute, and moved slowly away. They told all the zebra they happened upon thatthe three idiots approaching were at once uninteresting and dangerous. At four hundred and fifty yards a half dozen more made off at a trot. Atthree hundred and fifty yards the rest plunged away at a canter-allbut one. He remained to stare, but his tail was up, and we knew heonly stayed because he knew he could easily catch up in the next twentyseconds. 

The chance was very slim of delivering a knockout at that distance, butwe badly needed meat, anyway, after our march through the Thirst, so Itried him. We heard the well-known plunk of the bullet, but down wenthis head, up went his heels, and away went he. We watched him in vastdisgust. He cavorted out into a bare open space without cover of anysort, and then flopped over. I thought I caught a fleeting grin ofdelight on Mavrouki's face; but he knew enough instantly to conceal hissatisfaction over sure meat. 

There were now no zebra anywhere near; but since nobody ever thinksof omitting any chances in Africa, I sneaked up to the tree and tooka perfunctory look. There stood another, providentially absent-minded, zebra!

We got that one. Everybody was now happy. The boys raced over to thefirst kill, which soon took its dismembered way toward camp. C. And Icarefully organized our plan of campaign. We fixed in our memories theexact location of each and every bush; we determined compass directionfrom camp, and any other bearings likely to prove useful in finding sosmall a spot in the dark. Then we left a boy to keep carrion birds offuntil sunset; and returned home. 

We were out in the morning before even the first sign of dawn. Billyrode her little mule, C. And I went afoot, Memba Sasa accompanied usbecause he could see whole lions where even C. 's trained eye could notmake out an ear, and the syce went along to take care of the mule. Theheavens were ablaze with the thronging stars of the tropics, so we foundwe could make out the skyline of the distant butte over the rise of theplains. The earth itself was a pool of absolute blackness. We could notsee where we were placing our feet, and we were continually bringing upsuddenly to walk around an unexpected aloe or thornbush. The nightwas quite still, but every once in a while from the blackness camerustlings, scamperings, low calls, and once or twice the startledbarking of zebra very near at hand. The latter sounded as ridiculous asever. It is one of the many incongruities of African life that Natureshould have given so large and so impressive a creature the petulantyapping of an exasperated Pomeranian lap dog. At the end of threequarters of an hour of more or less stumbling progress, we made outagainst the sky the twisted treelet that served as our landmark. Billydismounted, turned the mule over to the syce, and we crept slowlyforward until within a guessed two or three hundred yards of our kill. 

Nothing remained now but to wait for the daylight. It had already begunto show. Over behind the distant mountains some one was kindling thefires, and the stars were flickering out. The splendid ferocity of theAfrican sunrise was at hand. Long bands of slate dark clouds lay closealong the horizon, and behind them glowed a heart of fire, as on a smallscale the lamplight glows through a metal-worked shade. On either sidethe sky was pale green-blue, translucent and pure, deep as infinityitself. The earth was still black, and the top of the rise near at handwas clear edged. On that edge, and by a strange chance accurately inthe centre of illumination, stood the uncouth massive form of a shaggywildebeeste, his head raised, staring to the east. He did not move;nothing of that fire and black world moved; only instant by instant itchanged, swelling in glory toward some climax until one expected at anymoment a fanfare of trumpets, the burst of triumphant culmination. 

Then very far down in the distance a lion roared. The wildebeeste, without moving, bellowed back an answer or a defiance. Down in thehollow an ostrich boomed. Zebra barked, and several birds chirpedstrongly. The tension was breaking not in the expected fanfare and burstof triumphal music, but in a manner instantly felt to be more fittingto what was indeed a wonder, but a daily wonder for all that. At one andthe same instant the rim of the sun appeared and the wildebeeste, afterthe sudden habit of his kind, made up his mind to go. He dropped hishead and came thundering down past us at full speed. Straight to thewest he headed, and so disappeared. We could hear the beat of his hoofsdying into the distance. He had gone like a Warder of the Morning whosetask was finished. On the knife-edged skyline appeared the silhouette ofslim-legged little Tommies, flirting their rails, sniffing at thedewy grass, dainty, slender, confiding, the open-day antithesis of thetremendous and awesome lord of the darkness that had roared its way toits lair, and to the massive shaggy herald of morning that had thundereddown to the west. 

III. THE CENTRAL PLATEAU

Now is required a special quality of the imagination, not in myself, butin my readers, for it becomes necessary for them to grasp the logic ofa whole country in one mental effort. The difficulties to me are veryreal. If I am to tell you it all in detail, your mind becomes confusedto the point of mingling the ingredients of the description. Theresultant mental picture is a composite; it mixes localities wideapart; it comes out, like the snake-creeper-swamp-forest thing ofgrammar-school South America, an unreal and deceitful impression. If, on the other hand, I try to give you a bird's-eye view-saying, hereis plain, and there follows upland, and yonder succeed mountains andhills-you lose the sense of breadth and space and the toil of manydays. The feeling of onward outward extending distance is gone; and thatimpression so indispensable to finite understanding-"here am I, and whatis beyond is to be measured by the length of my legs and the toil ofmy days. " You will not stop long enough on my plains to realize theirphysical extent nor their influence on the human soul. If I mention themin a sentence, you dismiss them in a thought. And that is something theplains themselves refuse to permit you to do. Yet sometimes one mustbecome a guide-book, and bespeak his reader's imagination. 

The country, then, wherein we travelled begins at the sea. Along thecoast stretches a low rolling country of steaming tropics, grown withcocoanuts, bananas, mangoes, and populated by a happy, half-naked raceof the Swahilis. Leaving the coast, the country rises through hills. These hills are at first fertile and green and wooded. Later they turninto an almost unbroken plateau of thorn scrub, cruel, monotonous, almost impenetrable. Fix thorn scrub in your mind, with rhino trails, and occasional openings for game, and a few rivers flowing through palmsand narrow jungle strips; fix it in your mind until your mind is filledwith it, until you are convinced that nothing else can exist in theworld but more and more of the monotonous, terrible, dry, onstretchingdesert of thorn. 

Then pass through this to the top of the hills inland, and journey overthese hills to the highland plains. 

Now sense and appreciate these wide seas of and the hills and rangesof mountains rising from them, and their infinite diversity ofcountry-their rivers marked by ribbons of jungle, their scattered-bushand their thick-bush areas, their grass expanses, and their greatdistances extending far over exceedingly wide horizons. Realize how manyweary hours you must travel to gain the nearest butte, what days of toilthe view from its top will disclose. Savour the fact that you can spendmonths in its veriest corner without exhausting its possibilities. Then, and not until then, raise your eyes to the low rising transverse rangethat bands it to the west as the thorn desert bands it to the east. 

And on these ranges are the forests, the great bewildering forests. In what looks like a grove lying athwart a little hill you can loseyourself for days. Here dwell millions of savages in an apparentlyuntouched wilderness. Here rises a snow mountain on the equator. Hereare tangles and labyrinths, great bamboo forests lost in folds of themightiest hills. Here are the elephants. Here are the swinging vines, the jungle itself. 

Yet finally it breaks. We come out on the edge of things and look downon a great gash in the earth. It is like a sunken kingdom in itself, miles wide, with its own mountain ranges, its own rivers, its ownlandscape features. Only on either side of it rise the escarpments whichare the true level of the plateau. One can spend two months in thisvalley, too, and in the countries south to which it leads. And on itsfarther side are the high plateau plains again, or the forests, or thedesert, or the great lakes that lie at the source of the Nile. 

So now, perhaps, we are a little prepared to go ahead. The guide-bookwork is finished for good and all. There is the steaming hot low coastbelt, and the hot dry thorn desert belt, and the varied immense plains, and the high mountain belt of the forests, and again the variegated widecountry of the Rift Valley and the high plateau. To attempt to tellyou seriatim and in detail just what they are like is the task of anencyclopaedist. Perhaps more indirectly you may be able to fill in thepicture of the country, the people, and the beasts. 

IV. THE FIRST CAMP

Our very first start into the new country was made when we piled outfrom the little train standing patiently awaiting the good pleasureof our descent. That feature strikes me with ever new wonder-theaccommodating way trains of the Uganda Railway have of waiting for you. One day, at a little wayside station, C. And I were idly exchangingremarks with the only white man in sight, killing time until the engineshould whistle to a resumption of the journey. The guard lingered aboutjust out of earshot. At the end of five minutes C. Happened to catch hiseye, whereupon he ventured to approach. 

"When you have finished your conversation, " said he politely, "we areall ready to go on. "

On the morning in question there were a lot of us to disembark-onehundred and twenty-two, to be exact-of which four were white. We werenot yet acquainted with our men, nor yet with our stores, nor with themethods of our travel. The train went off and left us in the middle ofa high plateau, with low ridges running across it, and mountains in thedistance. Men were squabbling earnestly for the most convenient loads tocarry, and as fast as they had gained undisputed possession, they markedthe loads with some private sign of their own. M'ganga, the headman, tall, fierce, big-framed and bony, clad in fez, a long black overcoat, blue puttees and boots, stood stiff as a ramrod, extended a rigid rightarm and rattled off orders in a high dynamic voice. In his left hand heclasped a bulgy umbrella, the badge of his dignity and the symbol of hisauthority. The four askaris, big men too, with masterful high-cheekbonedcountenances, rushed here and there seeing that the orders were carriedout. Expostulations, laughter, the sound of quarrelling rose and fell. Never could the combined volume of it all override the firecrackerstream of M'ganga's eloquence. 

We had nothing to do with it all, but stood a little dazed, staring atthe novel scene. Our men were of many tribes, each with its own castof features, its own notions of what befitted man's performance of hisduties here below. They stuck together each in its clan. A fine freeindividualism of personal adornment characterized them. Every mandressed for his own satisfaction solely. They hung all sorts of thingsin the distended lobes of their ears. One had succeeded in inserting afine big glittering tobacco tin. Others had invented elaborate topiarydesigns in their hair, shaving their heads so as to leave strange tufts, patches, crescents on the most unexpected places. Of the intricacy ofthese designs they seemed absurdly proud. Various sorts of treasuretrove hung from them-a bunch of keys to which there were no locks, discarded hunting knives, tips of antelope horns, discharged brasscartridges, a hundred and one valueless trifles plucked proudly fromthe rubbish heap. They were all clothed. We had supplied each with ared blanket, a blue jersey, and a water bottle. The blankets they weretwisting most ingeniously into turbans. Beside these they sported agreat variety of garments. Shooting coats that had seen better days, adozen shabby overcoats-worn proudly through the hottest noons-raggetybreeches and trousers made by some London tailor, queer baggy homemadesof the same persuasion, or quite simply the square of cotton clotharranged somewhat like a short tight skirt, or nothing at all as theman's taste ran. They were many of them amusing enough; but somehow theydid not look entirely farcical and ridiculous, like our negroesputting on airs. All these things were worn with a simplicity of quietconfidence in their entire fitness. And beneath the red blanket turbansthe half-wild savage faces peered out. 

Now Mahomet approached. Mahomet was my personal boy. He was a Somalifrom the Northwest coast, dusky brown, with the regular clear-cutfeatures of a Greek marble god. His dress was of neat khaki, and helooked down on savages; but, also, as with all the dark-skinned races, up to his white master. Mahomet was with me during all my African stay, and tested out nobly. As yet, of course, I did not know him. 

"Chakula taiari, " said he. 

That is Swahili. It means literally "food is ready. " After one hashunted in Africa for a few months, it means also "paradise is opened, ""grief is at an end, " "joy and thanksgiving are now in order, " andsimilar affairs. Those two words are never forgotten, and the veriestbeginner in Swahili can recognize them without the slightest effort. 

We followed Mahomet. Somehow, without orders, in all this confusion, thepersonal staff had been quietly and efficiently busy. Drawn a little toone side stood a table with four chairs. The table was covered with awhite cloth, and was set with a beautiful white enamel service. Wetook our places. Behind each chair straight as a ramrod stood a neatkhaki-clad boy. They brought us food, and presented it properly on theleft side, waiting like well-trained butlers. We might have been ina London restaurant. As three of us were Americans, we felt a trifledazed. The porters, having finished the distribution of their loads, squatted on their heels and watched us respectfully. 

And then, not two hundred yards away, four ostriches paced slowly acrossthe track, paying not the slightest attention to us-our first realwild ostriches, scornful of oranges, careless of tourists, and rightfulguardians of their own snowy plumes. The passage of these four solemnbirds seemed somehow to lend this strange open-air meal an exoticflavour. We were indeed in Africa; and the ostriches helped us torealize it. 

We finished breakfast and arose from our chairs. Instantly a half dozenmen sprang forward. Before our amazed eyes the table service, the chairsand the table itself disappeared into neat packages. M'ganga arose tohis feet. 

"Bandika!" he cried. 

The askaris rushed here and there actively. 

"Bandika! bandika! bandika!" they cried repeatedly. 

The men sprang into activity. A struggle heaved the varicolouredmultitude-and, lo! each man stood upright, his load balanced on hishead. At the same moment the syces led up our horses, mounted and headedacross the little plain whence had come the four ostriches. Our Africanjourney had definitely begun. 

Behind us, all abreast marched the four gunbearers; then the four syces;then the safari single file, an askari at the head bearing proudly hisancient musket and our banner, other askaris flanking, M'ganga bringingup the rear with his mighty umbrella and an unsuspected rhinoceros-hidewhip. The tent boys and the cook scattered along the flank anywhere, asbefitted the free and independent who had nothing to do with the seriousbusiness of marching. A measured sound of drumming followed the beatingof loads with a hundred sticks; a wild, weird chanting burst from theranks and died down again as one or another individual or group feltmoved to song. One lot had a formal chant and response. Their leader, ina high falsetto, said something like, "Kuna koma kuno, "

and all his tribesmen would follow with a single word in a deep grufftone, "Za-la-nee!"

All of which undoubtedly helped immensely. 

The country was a bully country, but somehow it did not look likeAfrica. That is to say, it looked altogether too much like any amountof country at home. There was nothing strange and exotic about it. Wecrossed a little plain, and up over a small hill, down into a shallowcanyon that seemed to be wooded with live oaks, across a grass valleyor so, and around a grass hill. Then we went into camp at the edge ofanother grass valley, by a stream across which rose some ordinary lowcliffs. 

That is the disconcerting thing about a whole lot of this country-itis so much like home. Of course, there are many wide districts exoticenough in all conscience-the jungle beds of the rivers, the bambooforests, the great tangled forests themselves, the banana groves downthe aisles of which dance savages with shields-but so very much of it isfamiliar. One needs only church spires and a red-roofed village or soto imagine one's self in Surrey. There is any amount of countrylike Arizona, and more like the uplands of Wyoming, and a lot of itresembling the smaller landscapes of New England. The prospects of thewhole world are there, so that somewhere every wanderer can find thecountryside of his own home repeated. And, by the same token, that isexactly what makes a good deal of it so startling. When a man sees afile of spear-armed savages, or a pair of snorty old rhinos, step outinto what has seemed practically his own back yard home, he is even morestartled than if he had encountered them in quite strange surroundings. 

We rode into the grass meadow and picked camp site. The men trailed inand dumped down their loads in a row. 

At a signal they set to work. A dozen to each tent got them up in ajiffy. A long file brought firewood from the stream bed. Others carriedwater, stones for the cook, a dozen other matters. The tent boys rescuedour boxes; they put together the cots and made the beds, even before thetents were raised from the ground. Within an incredibly short space oftime the three green tents were up and arranged, each with its bed made, its mosquito bar hung, its personal box open, its folding washstandready with towels and soap, the table and chairs unlimbered. At adiscreet distance flickered the cook campfire, and at a still discreeterdistance the little tents of the men gleamed pure white against thegreen of the high grass. 

V. MEMBA SASA

I wish I could plunge you at once into the excitements of big game inAfrica, but I cannot truthfully do so. To be sure, we went hunting thatafternoon, up over the low cliffs, and we saw several of a very livelylittle animal known as the Chandler's reedbuck. This was not supposed tobe a game country, and that was all we did see. At these we shot severaltimes-disgracefully. In fact, for several days we could not shootat all, at any range, nor at anything. It was very sad, and veryaggravating. Afterward we found that this is an invariable experience tothe newcomer. The light is new, the air is different, the sizes of thegame are deceiving. Nobody can at first hit anything. At the end of fivedays we suddenly began to shoot our normal gait. Why, I do not know. 

But in this afternoon tramp around the low cliffs after the elusivereedbuck, I for the first time became acquainted with a man whodeveloped into a real friend. 

His name is Memba Sasa. Memba Sasa are two Swahili words meaning "now acrocodile. " Subsequently, after I had learned to talk Swahili, I triedto find out what he was formerly, before he was a crocodile, but did notsucceed. 

He was of the tribe of the Monumwezi, of medium height, compactlyand sturdily built, carried himself very erect, and moved with aconcentrated and vigorous purposefulness. His countenance might bedescribed as pleasing but not handsome, of a dark chocolate brown, withthe broad nose of the negro, but with a firm mouth, high cheekbones, anda frowning intentness of brow that was very fine. When you talked tohim he looked you straight in the eye. His own eyes were shaded bylong, soft, curling lashes behind which they looked steadily andgravely-sometimes fiercely-on the world. He rarely smiled-never merelyin understanding or for politeness' sake-and never laughed unless therewas something really amusing. Then he chuckled from deep in his chest, the most contagious laughter you can imagine. Often we, at the other endof the camp, have laughed in sympathy, just at the sound of that deepand hearty ho! ho! ho! of Memba Sasa. Even at something genuinelyamusing he never laughed much, nor without a very definite restraint. Infact, about him was no slackness, no sprawling abandon of the nativein relaxation; but always a taut efficiency and a never-failingself-respect. 

Naturally, behind such a fixed moral fibre must always be some moralidea. When a man lives up to a real, not a pompous, dignity some idealmust inform it. Memba Sasa's ideal was that of the Hunter. 

He was a gunbearer; and he considered that a good gunbearer stood quitea few notches above any other human being, save always the white man, of course. And even among the latter Memba Sasa made great differences. These differences he kept to himself, and treated all with equalrespect. Nevertheless, they existed, and Memba Sasa very well knew thatfact. In the white world were two classes of masters: those who huntedwell, and those who were considered by them as their friends and equals. Why they should be so considered Memba Sasa did not know, but he trustedthe Hunter's judgment. These were the bwanas, or masters. All the restwere merely mazungos, or, "white men. " To their faces he called thembwana, but in his heart he considered them not. 

Observe, I say those who hunted well. Memba Sasa, in his profession asgunbearer, had to accompany those who hunted badly. In them he tookno pride; from them he held aloof in spirit; but for them he did hisconscientious best, upheld by the dignity of his profession. 

For to Mamba Sasa that profession was the proudest to which a blackman could aspire. He prided himself on mastering its every detail, inaccomplishing its every duty minutely and exactly. The major virtues ofa gunbearer are not to be despised by anybody; for they comprise greatphysical courage, endurance, and loyalty: the accomplishments of agunbearer are worthy of a man's best faculties, for they include theability to see and track game, to take and prepare properly any sort ofa trophy, field taxidermy, butchering game meat, wood and plainscraft, the knowledge of how properly to care for firearms in all sorts ofcircumstances, and a half hundred other like minutiae. Memba Sasa knewthese things, and he performed them with the artist's love for details;and his keen eyes were always spying for new ways. 

At a certain time I shot an egret, and prepared to take the skin. MembaSasa asked if he might watch me do it. Two months later, having killeda really gaudy peacocklike member of the guinea fowl tribe, I handedit over to him with instructions to take off the breast feathers beforegiving it to the cook. In a half hour he brought me the complete skin, I examined it carefully, and found it to be well done in every respect. Now in skinning a bird there are a number of delicate and unusualoperations, such as stripping the primary quills from the bone, cuttingthe ear cover, and the like. I had explained none of them; and yet MembaSasa, unassisted, had grasped their method from a single demonstrationand had remembered them all two months later! C. Had a trick in makingthe second skin incision of a trophy head that had the effect of givinga better purchase to the knife. Its exact description would be out ofplace here, but it actually consisted merely in inserting the point ofthe knife two inches away from the place it is ordinarily inserted. Oneday we noticed that Memba Sasa was making his incisions in that manner. I went to Africa fully determined to care for my own rifle. The modernhigh-velocity gun needs rather especial treatment; mere wiping out willnot do. I found that Memba Sasa already knew all about boiling water, and the necessity for having it really boiling, about subsequent metalsweating, and all the rest. After watching him at work I concluded, rightly, that he would do a lot better job than I. 

To the new employer Memba Sasa maintained an attitude of strictprofessional loyalty. His personal respect was upheld by the necessityof every man to do his job in the world. Memba Sasa did his. He cleanedthe rifles; he saw that everything was in order for the day's march; hewas at my elbow all ways with more cartridges and the spare rifle; hetrailed and looked conscientiously. In his attitude was the stolidityof the wooden Indian. No action of mine, no joke on the part of hiscompanions, no circumstance in the varying fortunes of the field gainedfrom him the faintest flicker of either approval, disapproval, orinterest. When we returned to camp he deposited my water bottleand camera, seized the cleaning implements, and departed to his owncampfire. In the field he pointed out game that I did not see, andwaited imperturbably the result of my shot. 

As I before stated, the result of that shot for the first five days wasvery apt to be nil. This, at the time, puzzled and grieved me a lot. Occasionally I looked at Memba Sasa to catch some sign of sympathy, disgust, contempt, or-rarely-triumph at a lucky shot. Nothing. He gentlybut firmly took away my rifle, reloaded it, and handed it back; thenwaited respectfully for my next move. He knew no English, and I noSwahili. 

But as time went on this attitude changed. I was armed with the newSpringfield rifle, a weapon with 2, 700 feet velocity, and with amarvellously flat trajectory. This commanding advantage, combined witha very long familiarity with firearms, enabled me to do some fairishshooting, after the strangeness of these new conditions had beenmastered. Memba Sasa began to take a dawning interest in me as apossible source of pride. We began to develop between us a means ofcommunication. I set myself deliberately to learn his language, andafter he had cautiously determined that I really meant it, he took thegreatest pains-always gravely-to teach me. A more human feeling sprangup between us. 

But we had still the final test to undergo-that of danger and the tightcorner. 

In close quarters the gunbearer has the hardest job in the world. I havethe most profound respect for his absolute courage. Even to a manarmed and privileged to shoot and defend himself, a charging lion is anawesome thing, requiring a certain amount of coolness and resolution toface effectively. Think of the gunbearer at his elbow, depending noton himself but on the courage and coolness of another. He cannot do onesolitary thing to defend himself. To bolt for the safety of a tree isto beg the question completely, to brand himself as a shenzi forever;to fire a gun in any circumstances is to beg the question also, forthe white man must be able to depend absolutely on his second gun inan emergency. Those things are outside consideration, even, of anyrespectable gunbearer. In addition, he must keep cool. He must seeclearly in the thickest excitement; must be ready unobtrusively to passup the second gun in the position most convenient for immediate use, toseize the other and to perform the finicky task of reloading correctlywhile some rampageous beast is raising particular thunder a few yardsaway. All this in absolute dependence on the ability of his bwana todeal with the situation. I can confess very truly that once or twicethat little unobtrusive touch of Memba Sasa crouched close to my elbowsteadied me with the thought of how little right I-with a rifle inmy hand-had to be scared. And the best compliment I ever received Ioverheard by chance. I had wounded a lion when out by myself, andhad returned to camp for a heavier rifle and for Memba Sasa to do thetrailing. From my tent I overheard the following conversation betweenMemba Sasa and the cook:

"The grass is high, " said the cook. "Are you not afraid to go after awounded lion with only one white man?"

"My one white man is enough, " replied Memba Sasa. 

It is a quality of courage that I must confess would be quite beyondme-to depend entirely on the other fellow, and not at all on myself. This courage is always remarkable to me, even in the case of thegunbearer who knows all about the man whose heels he follows. Butconsider that of the gunbearer's first experience with a stranger. Theformer has no idea of how the white man will act; whether he will getnervous, get actually panicky, lose his shooting ability, and generallymess things up. Nevertheless, he follows his master in, and he standsby. If the hunter fails, the gunbearer will probably die. To me it israther fine: for he does it, not from the personal affection and loyaltywhich will carry men far, but from a sheer sense of duty and pride ofcaste. The quiet pride of the really good men, like Memba Sasa, is easyto understand. 

And the records are full of stories of the white man who has not madegood: of the coward who bolts, leaving his black man to take the bruntof it, or who sticks but loses his head. Each new employer must bevery closely and interestedly scrutinized. In the light of subsequentexperience, I can no longer wonder at Memba Sasa's first detached andimpersonal attitude. 

As time went on, however, and we grew to know each other better, thisattitude entirely changed. At first the change consisted merely indropping the disinterested pose as respects game. For it was a pose. Memba Sasa was most keenly interested in game whenever it was an objectof pursuit. It did not matter how common the particular species mightbe: if we wanted it, Memba Sasa would look upon it with eager ferocity;and if we did not want it, he paid no attention to it at all. When westarted in the morning, or in the relaxation of our return at night, Iwould mention casually a few of the things that might prove acceptable. 

"To-morrow we want kongoni for boys' meat, or zebra; and some meat formasters-Tommy, impala, oribi, " and Memba Sasa knew as well as I did whatwe needed to fill out our trophy collection. When he caught sight of oneof these animals his whole countenance changed. The lines of his faceset, his lips drew back from his teeth, his eyes fairly darted fire inthe fixity of their gaze. He was like a fine pointer dog on birds, orlike the splendid savage he was at heart. 

"M'palla!" he hissed; and then after a second, in a restrained fiercevoice, "Na-ona? Do you see?"

If I did not see he pointed cautiously. His own eyes never left thebeast. Rarely he stayed put while I made the stalk. More often he glidedlike a snake at my heels. If the bullet hit, Memba Sasa always exhaleda grunt of satisfaction-"hah!"-in which triumph and satisfaction mingledwith a faint derision at the unfortunate beast. In case of a trophy hesquatted anxiously at the animal's head while I took my measurements, assisting very intelligently with the tape line. When I had finished, healways looked up at me with wrinkled brow. 

"Footie n'gapi?" he inquired. This means literally, "How many feet?", footie being his euphemistic invention of a word for the tape. I wouldtell him how many "footie" and how many "inchie" the measurement provedto be. From the depths of his wonderful memory he would dig up themeasurements of another beast of the same sort I had killed months back, but which he had remembered accurately from a single hearing. 

The shooting of a beast he always detailed to his few cronies in camp:the other gunbearers, and one or two from his own tribe. He always usedthe first person plural, "we" did so and so; and took an inordinatepride in making out his bwana as being an altogether superior person toany of the other gunbearer's bwanas. Over a miss he always lookedsad; but with a dignified sadness as though we had met with undeservedmisfortune sent by malignant gods. If there were any possiblealleviating explanation, Memba Sasa made the most of it, provided ourfiasco was witnessed. If we were alone in our disgrace, he buried theincident fathoms deep. He took an inordinate pride in our using theminimum number of cartridges, and would explain to me in a loud toneof voice that we had cartridges enough in the belt. When we had notcartridges enough, he would sneak around after dark to get some more. Attimes he would even surreptitiously "lift" a few from B. 's gunbearer!

When in camp, with his "cazi" finished, Memba Sasa did fancy work! Thepicture of this powerful half-savage, his fierce brows bent over a tinypiece of linen, his strong fingers fussing with little stitches, willalways appeal to my sense of the incongruous. Through a piece of linenhe punched holes with a porcupine quill. Then he "buttonhole" stitchedthe holes, and embroidered patterns between them with fine white thread. The result was an openwork pattern heavily encrusted with beautiful fineembroidery. It was most astounding stuff, such as you would expect froma French convent, perhaps, but never from an African savage. He did acircular piece and a long narrow piece. They took him three months tofinish, and then he sewed them together to form a skull cap. Billy, entranced with the lacelike delicacy of the work, promptly captured it;whereupon Memba Sasa philosophically started another. 

By this time he had identified himself with my fortunes. We had becomea firm whose business it was to carry out the affairs of a singlepersonality-me. Memba Sasa, among other things, undertook the dignity. When I walked through a crowd, Memba Sasa zealously kicked everybody outof my royal path. When I started to issue a command, Memba Sasa finishedit and amplified it and put a snapper on it. When I came into camp, Memba Sasa saw to it personally that my tent went up promptly andproperly, although that was really not part of his "cazi" at all. Andwhen somewhere beyond my ken some miserable boy had committed a crime, Inever remained long in ignorance of that fact. 

Perhaps I happened to be sitting in my folding chair idly smoking apipe and reading a book. Across the open places of the camp would strideMemba Sasa, very erect, very rigid, moving in short indignant jerks, his eye flashing fire. Behind him would sneak a very hang-dog boy. MembaSasa marched straight up to me, faced right, and drew one side, hissilence sparkling with honest indignation. 

"Just look at THAT!" his attitude seemed to say, "Could you believe suchhuman depravity possible? And against OUR authority?"

He always stood, quite rigid, waiting for me to speak. 

"Well, Memba Sasa?" I would inquire, after I had enjoyed the show alittle. 

In a few restrained words he put the case before me, always briefly, always with a scornful dignity. This shenzi has done so-and-so. 

We will suppose the case fairly serious. I listened to the man's story, if necessary called a few witnesses, delivered judgment. All the whileMemba Sasa stood at rigid attention, fairly bristling virtue, likethe good dog standing by at the punishment of the bad dogs. And in hisattitude was a subtle triumph, as one would say: "You see! Fool with mybwana, will you! Just let anybody try to get funny with US!" Judgmentpronounced-we have supposed the case serious, you remember-Memba Sasahimself applied the lash. I think he really enjoyed that; but it was arestrained joy. The whip descended deliberately, without excitement. 

The man's devotion in unusual circumstances was beyond praise. Dangeror excitement incite a sort of loyalty in any good man; but humdrum, disagreeable difficulty is a different matter. 

One day we marched over a country of thorn-scrub desert. Since two dayswe had been cut loose from water, and had been depending on a smallamount carried in zinc drums. Now our only reasons for faring were aconical hill, over the horizon, and the knowledge of a river somewherebeyond. How far beyond, or in what direction, we did not know. We hadthirty men with us, a more or less ragtag lot, picked up anyhow in thebazaars. They were soft, ill-disciplined and uncertain. For five or sixhours they marched well enough. Then the sun began to get very hot, andsome of them began to straggle. They had, of course, no intention ofdeserting, for their only hope of surviving lay in staying with us; buttheir loads had become heavy, and they took too many rests. We put agood man behind, but without much avail. In open country a safari canbe permitted to straggle over miles, for always it can keep in touch bysight; but in this thorn-scrub desert, that looks all alike, a man fiftyyards out of sight is fifty yards lost. We would march fifteen or twentyminutes, then sit down to wait until the rearmost men had straggled in, perhaps a half hour later. And we did not dare move on until the tale ofour thirty was complete. At this rate progress was very slow, and as thefierce equatorial sun increased in strength, became always slower still. The situation became alarming. We were quite out of water, and we had noidea where water was to be found. To complicate matters, the thornbrushthickened to a jungle. 

My single companion and I consulted. It was agreed that I was to push onas rapidly as possible to locate the water, while he was to try to holdthe caravan together. Accordingly, Memba Sasa and I marched ahead. Wetried to leave a trail to follow; and we hoped fervently that our guessas to the stream's course would prove to be a good one. At the endof two hours and a half we found the water-a beautiful jungle-shadedstream-and filled ourselves up therewith. Our duty was accomplished, forwe had left a trail to be followed. Nevertheless, I felt I should liketo take back our full canteens to relieve the worst cases. Memba Sasawould not hear of it, and even while I was talking to him seized thecanteens and disappeared. 

At the end of two hours more camp was made, after a fashion; but stillfour men had failed to come in. We built a smudge in the hope of guidingthem; and gave them up. If they had followed our trail, they should havebeen in long ago; if they had missed that trail, heaven knows where theywere, or where we should go to find them. Dusk was falling, and, to tellthe truth, we were both very much done up by a long day at 115 degreesin the shade under an equatorial sun. The missing men would climb treesaway from the beasts, and we would organize a search next day. As wedebated these things, to us came Memba Sasa. 

"I want to take 'Winchi, '" said he. "Winchi" is his name for myWinchester 405. 

"Why?" we asked. 

"If I can take Winchi, I will find the men, " said he. 

This was entirely voluntary on his part. He, as well as we, had had ahard day, and he had made a double journey for part of it. We gave himWinchi and he departed. Sometime after midnight he returned with themissing men. 

Perhaps a dozen times all told he volunteered for these specialservices; once in particular, after a fourteen-hour day, he set offat nine o'clock at night in a soaking rainstorm, wandered until twoo'clock, and returned unsuccessful, to rouse me and report gravelythat he could not find them. For these services he neither received norexpected special reward. And catch him doing anything outside his strict"cazi" except for US. 

We were always very ceremonious and dignified in our relations on suchoccasions. Memba Sasa would suddenly appear, deposit the rifle in itsplace, and stand at attention. 

"Well, Memba Sasa?" I would inquire. 

"I have found the men; they are in camp. "

Then I would give him his reward. It was either the word "assanti, " orthe two words "assanti sana, " according to the difficulty and importanceof the task accomplished. They mean simply "thank you" and "thank youvery much. "

Once or twice, after a particularly long and difficult month or so, whenMemba Sasa has been almost literally my alter ego, I have called him upfor special praise. "I am very pleased with you, Memba Sasa, " said I. "You have done your cazi well. You are a good man. "

He accepted this with dignity, without deprecation, and without theidiocy of spoken gratitude. He agreed perfectly with everything Isaid! "Yes" was his only comment. I liked it. 

On our ultimate success in a difficult enterprise Memba Sasa set greatstore; and his delight in ultimate success was apparently quite apartfrom personal considerations. We had been hunting greater kudu for fiveweeks before we finally landed one. The greater kudu is, with the bongo, easily the prize beast in East Africa, and very few are shot. By a pieceof bad luck, for him, I had sent Memba Sasa out in a different directionto look for signs the afternoon we finally got one. The kill was madejust at dusk. C. And I, with Mavrouki, built a fire and stayed, whileKongoni went to camp after men. There he broke the news to Memba Sasathat the great prize had been captured, and he absent. Memba Sasa washugely delighted, nor did he in any way show what must have been a greatdisappointment to him. After repeating the news triumphantly to everyone in camp, he came out to where we were waiting, arrived quite out ofbreath, and grabbed me by the hand in heartiest congratulation. 

Memba Sasa went in not at all for personal ornamentation, any more thanhe allowed his dignity to be broken by anything resembling emotionalism. No tattoo marks, no ear ornaments, no rings nor bracelets. He never evenpicked up an ostrich feather for his head. On the latter he sometimeswore an old felt hat; sometimes, more picturesquely, an orange-colouredfillet. Khaki shirt, khaki "shorts, " blue puttees, besides his knifeand my own accoutrements: that was all. In town he was all white clad, along fine linen robe reaching to his feet; and one of the lacelike skullcaps he was so very skilful at making. 

That will do for a preliminary sketch. If you follow these pages, youwill hear more of him; he is worth it. 

VI. THE FIRST GAME CAMP

In the review of "first" impressions with which we are concerned, wemust now skip a week or ten days to stop at what is known in our diariesas the First Ford of the Guaso Nyero River. 

These ten days were not uneventful. We had crossed the wide andundulating plains, had paused at some tall beautiful falls plungingseveral hundred feet into the mysteriousness of a dense forest onwhich we looked down. There we had enjoyed some duck, goose and snipeshooting; had made the acquaintance of a few of the Masai, and hadlooked with awe on our first hippo tracks in the mud beside a tinyditchlike stream. Here and there were small game herds. In the light oflater experience we now realize that these were nothing at all; but atthe time the sight of full-grown wild animals out in plain sight wasquite wonderful. At the close of the day's march we always wandered outwith our rifles to see what we could find. Everything was new to us, and we had our men to feed. Our shooting gradually improved until we hadovercome the difficulties peculiar to this new country and were doing aswell as we could do anywhere. 

Now, at the end of a hard day through scrub, over rolling bold hills, and down a scrub brush slope, we had reached the banks of the GuasoNyero. 

At this point, above the junction of its principal tributary rivers, it was a stream about sixty or seventy feet wide, flowing swift betweenhigh banks. A few trees marked its course, but nothing like a jungle. The ford was in swift water just above a deep still pool suspectedof crocodiles. We found the water about waist deep, stretched a ropeacross, and forcibly persuaded our eager boys that one at a time wasabout what the situation required. On the other side we made camp onan open flat. Having marched so far continuously, we resolved to settledown for a while. The men had been without sufficient meat; and wedesired very much to look over the country closely, and to collect a fewheads as trophies. 

Perhaps a word might not come amiss as to the killing of game. The caseis here quite different from the condition of affairs at home. Hereanimal life is most extraordinarily abundant; it furnishes the main foodsupply to the traveller; and at present is probably increasing slightly, certainly holding its own. Whatever toll the sportsman or traveller takeis as nothing compared to what he might take if he were an unscrupulousgame hog. If his cartridges and his shoulder held out, he could easilykill a hundred animals a day instead of the few he requires. In thatsense, then, no man slaughters indiscriminately. During the course ofa year he probably shoots from two hundred to two hundred and fiftybeasts, provided he is travelling with an ordinary sized caravan. This, the experts say, is about the annual toll of one lion. If the travellergets his lion, he plays even with the fauna of the country; if hegets two or more lions, he has something to his credit. This probablyexplains why the game is still so remarkably abundant near the road andon the very outskirts of the town. 

We were now much in need of a fair quantity of meat, both for immediateconsumption of our safari, and to make biltong or jerky. Later, in likecircumstances, we should have sallied forth in a businesslike fashion, dropped the requisite number of zebra and hartebeeste as near camp aspossible, and called it a job. Now, however, being new to the game, wemuch desired good trophies in variety. Therefore, we scoured thecountry far and wide for desirable heads; and the meat waited upon theacquisition of the trophy. 

This, then, might be called our first Shooting Camp. Heretofore we hadtravelled every day. Now the boys settled down to what the native porterconsiders the height of bliss: a permanent camp with plenty to eat. Eachmorning we were off before daylight, riding our horses, and followed bythe gunbearers, the syces, and fifteen or twenty porters. The countryrose from the river in a long gentle slope grown with low brush andscattered candlestick euphorbias. This slope ended in a scattered rangeof low rocky buttes. Through any one of the various openings betweenthem, we rode to find ourselves on the borders of an undulating grasscountry of low rounded hills with wide valleys winding between them. Inthese valleys and on these hills was the game. 

Daylight of the day I would tell about found us just at the edge of thelittle buttes. Down one of the slopes the growing half light revealedtwo oryx feeding, magnificent big creatures, with straight rapier hornsthree feet in length. These were most exciting and desirable, so offmy horse I got and began to sneak up on them through the low tuftsof grass. They fed quite calmly. I congratulated myself, and slippednearer. Without even looking in my direction, they trotted away. Somewhat chagrined, I returned to my companions, and we rode on. 

Then across a mile-wide valley we saw two dark objects in the tallgrass; and almost immediately identified these as rhinoceroses, thefirst we had seen. They stood there side by side, gazing off into space, doing nothing in a busy morning world. After staring at them through ourglasses for some time, we organized a raid. At the bottom of the valleywe left the horses and porters; lined up, each with his gunbearer at hiselbow; and advanced on the enemy. B. Was to have the shot According toall the books we should have been able, provided we were downwindand made no noise, to have approached within fifty or sixty yardsundiscovered. However, at a little over a hundred yards they both turnedtail and departed at a swift trot, their heads held well up and theirtails sticking up straight and stiff in the most ridiculous fashion. No good shooting at them in such circumstances, so we watched them go, still keeping up their slashing trot, growing smaller and smaller in thedistance until finally they disappeared over the top of a swell. 

We set ourselves methodically to following them. It took us over an hourof steady plodding before we again came in sight of them. They were thistime nearer the top of a hill, and we saw instantly that the curve ofthe slope was such that we could approach within fifty yards beforecoming in sight at all. Therefore, once more we dismounted, lined up inbattle array, and advanced. 

Sensations? Distinctly nervous, decidedly alert, and somewhatself-congratulatory that I was not more scared. No man can predicate howefficient he is going to be in the presence of really dangerous game. Only the actual trial will show. This is not a question of courage atall, but of purely involuntary reaction of the nerves. Very few men arephysical cowards. They will and do face anything. But a great many menare rendered inefficient by the way their nervous systems act understress. It is not a matter for control by will power in the slightestdegree. So the big game hunter must determine by actual trial whether itso happens that the great excitement of danger renders his hand shaky orsteady. The excitement in either case is the same. No man is ever "cool"in the sense that personal danger is of the same kind of indifferenceto him as clambering aboard a street car. He must always be liftedabove himself, must enter an extra normal condition to meet extra normalcircumstances. He can always control his conduct; but he can by nomeans always determine the way the inevitable excitement will affect hiscoordinations. And unfortunately, in the final result it does not matterhow brave a man is, but how closely he can hold. If he finds that hisnervous excitement renders him unsteady, he has no business ever totackle dangerous game alone. If, on the other hand, he discovers thatIDENTICALLY THE SAME nervous excitement happens to steady his frontsight to rocklike rigidity-a rigidity he could not possibly attain innormal conditions-then he will probably keep out of trouble. 

To amplify this further by a specific instance: I hunted for a shorttime in Africa with a man who was always eager for exciting encounters, whose pluck was admirable in every way, but whose nervous reaction somanifested itself that he was utterly unable to do even decent shootingat any range. Furthermore, his very judgment and power of observationwere so obscured that he could not remember afterward with any accuracywhat had happened-which way the beast was pointing, how many there wereof them, in which direction they went, how many shots were fired, inshort all the smaller details of the affair. He thought he remembered. After the show was over it was quite amusing to get his version ofthe incident. It was almost always so wide of the fact as to be littlerecognizable. And, mind you, he was perfectly sincere in his belief, andabsolutely courageous. Only he was quite unfitted by physical make-upfor a big game hunter; and I was relieved when, after a short time, hisroute and mine separated. 

Well, we clambered up that slope with a fine compound of tension, expectation, and latent uneasiness as to just what was going to happen, anyway. Finally, we raised the backs of the beasts, stooped, sneaked alittle nearer, and finally at a signal stood upright perhaps forty yardsfrom the brutes. 

For the first time I experienced a sensation I was destined many timesto repeat-that of the sheer size of the animals. Menagerie rhinoceroseshad been of the smaller Indian variety; and in any case most menageriebeasts are more or less stunted. These two, facing us, their little eyesblinking, looked like full-grown ironclads on dry land. The moment westood erect B. Fired at the larger of the two. Instantly they turned andwere off at a tearing run. I opened fire, and B. Let loose his secondbarrel. At about two hundred and fifty yards the big rhinoceros suddenlyfell on his side, while the other continued his flight. It was allover-very exciting because we got excited, but not in the leastdangerous. 

The boys were delighted, for here was meat in plenty for everybody. Wemeasured the beast, photographed him, marvelled at his immense size, andturned him over to the gunbearers for treatment. In half an hour or so along string of porters headed across the hills in the direction ofcamp, many miles distant, each carrying his load either of meat, or thetrophies. Rhinoceros hide, properly treated, becomes as transparent asamber, and so from it can be made many very beautiful souvenirs, such asbowls, trays, paper knives, table tops, whips, canes, and the like. And, of course, the feet of one's first rhino are always saved for cigarboxes or inkstands. 

Already we had an admiring and impatient audience. From all directionscame the carrion birds. They circled far up in the heavens; they shotdownward like plummets from a great height with an inspiring roar ofwings; they stood thick in a solemn circle all around the scene of thekill; they rose with a heavy flapping when we moved in their direction. Skulking forms flashed in the grass, and occasionally the pointed earsof a jackal would rise inquiringly. 

It was by now nearly noon. The sun shone clear and hot; the heat shimmerrose in clouds from the brown surface of the hills. In all directionswe could make out small gameherds resting motionless in the heat of theday, the mirage throwing them into fantastic shapes. While the finaldisposition was being made of the defunct rhinoceros I wandered over theedge of the hill to see what I could see, and fairly blundered on a herdof oryx at about a hundred and fifty yards range. They looked at me astartled instant, then leaped away to the left at a tremendous speed. By a lucky shot, I bowled one over. He was a beautiful beast, with hisblack and white face and his straight rapierlike horns nearly three feetlong, and I was most pleased to get him. Memba Sasa came running at thesound of the shot. We set about preparing the head. 

Then through a gap in the hills far to the left we saw a little blackspeck moving rapidly in our direction. At the end of a minute we couldmake it out as the second rhinoceros. He had run heaven knows howmany miles away, and now he was returning; whether with some idea ofrejoining his companion or from sheer chance, I do not know. At anyrate, here he was, still ploughing along at his swinging trot. Hiscourse led him along a side hill about four hundred yards from wherethe oryx lay. When he was directly opposite I took the Springfield andfired, not at him, but at a spot five or six feet in front of hisnose. The bullet threw up a column of dust. Rhino brought up short withastonishment, wheeled to the left, and made off at a gallop. I droppedanother bullet in front of him. Again he stopped, changed direction, andmade off. For the third time I hit the ground in front of him. Then hegot angry, put his head down and charged the spot. 

Five more shots I expended on the amusement of that rhinoceros; andat the last had run furiously charging back and forth in a twenty-yardspace, very angry at the little puffing, screeching bullets, but quiteunable to catch one. Then he made up his mind and departed the way hehad come, finally disappearing as a little rapidly moving black speckthrough the gap in the hills where we had first caught sight of him. 

We finished caring for the oryx, and returned to camp. To our surprisewe found we were at least seven or eight miles out. 

In this fashion days passed very quickly. The early dewy start in thecool of the morning, the gradual grateful warming up of sunrise, andimmediately after, the rest during the midday heats under a shady tree, the long trek back to camp at sunset, the hot bath after the toilsomeday-all these were very pleasant. Then the swift falling night, and thegleam of many tiny fires springing up out of the darkness; with each itssticks full of meat roasting, and its little circle of men, their skinsgleaming in the light. As we sat smoking, we would become aware thatM'ganga, the headman, was standing silent awaiting orders. Some onewould happen to see the white of his eyes, or perhaps he might smile sothat his teeth would become visible. Otherwise he might stand there anhour, and no one the wiser, for he was respectfully silent, and exactlythe colour of the night. 

We would indicate to him our plans for the morrow, and he woulddisappear. Then at a distance of twenty or thirty feet from the frontof our tents a tiny tongue of flame would lick up. Dark figures could beseen manipulating wood. A blazing fire sprang up, against which we couldsee the motionless and picturesque figure of Saa-sita (Six o'Clock), theaskari of the first night watch, leaning on his musket. He was a mostpicturesque figure, for his fancy ran to original headdresses, and atthe moment he affected a wonderful upstanding structure made of maraboutwings. 

At this sign that the night had begun, we turned in. A few hyenasmoaned, a few jackals barked: otherwise the first part of the night wassilent, for the hunters were at their silent business, and the huntedwere "layin' low and sayin' nuffin'. "

Day after day we rode out, exploring the country in differentdirections. The great uncertainty as to what of interest we would findfilled the hours with charm. Sometimes we clambered about the cliffs ofthe buttes trying to find klipspringers; again we ran miles pursuing thegigantic eland. I in turn got my first rhinoceros, with no more dangerthan had attended the killing of B. 's. On this occasion, however, I hadmy first experience of the lightning skill of the first-class gunbearer. Having fired both barrels, and staggered the beast, I threw open thebreech and withdrew the empty cartridges, intending, of course, as mynext move to fish two more out of my belt. The empty shells were hardlyaway from the chambers, however, when a long brown arm shot overmy right shoulder and popped two fresh cartridges in the breech. Soastonished was I at this unexpected apparition, that for a second or soI actually forgot to close the gun. 

VII. ON THE MARCH

After leaving the First Game Camp, we travelled many hours and milesover rolling hills piling ever higher and higher until they brokethrough a pass to illimitable plains. These plains were mantled with thedense scrub, looking from a distance and from above like the nap of softgreen velvet. Here and there this scrub broke in round or oval patchesof grass plain. Great mountain ranges peered over the edge of a horizon. Lesser mountain peaks of fantastic shapes-sheer Yosemite cliffs, singlebuttes, castles-had ventured singly from behind that same horizonbarricade. The course of a river was marked by a meandering line ofgreen jungle. 

It took us two days to get to that river. Our intermediate camp washalfway down the pass. We ousted a hundred indignant straw-colouredmonkeys and twice as many baboons from the tiny flat above the waterhole. They bobbed away cursing over their shoulders at us. Next day wedebouched on the plains. They were rolling, densely grown, covered withvolcanic stones, swarming with game of various sorts. The men marchedwell. They were happy, for they had had a week of meat; and each carrieda light lunch of sun-dried biltong or jerky. Some mistaken individualshad attempted to bring along some "fresh" meat. We found it advisable topass to windward of these; but they themselves did not seem to mind. 

It became very hot; for we were now descending to the lower elevations. The marching through long grass and over volcanic stones was not easy. Shortly we came out on stumbly hills, mostly rock, very dry, grown withcactus and discouraged desiccated thorn scrub. Here the sun reflectedpowerfully and the bearers began to flag. 

Then suddenly, without warning, we pitched over a little rise to theriver. 

No more marvellous contrast could have been devised. From the blastedbarren scrub country we plunged into the lush jungle. It was not a verywide jungle, but it was sufficient. The trees were large and variegated, reaching to a high and spacious upper story above the ground tangle. From the massive limbs hung vines, festooned and looped like greatserpents. Through this upper corridor flitted birds of bright hue orstriking variegation. We did not know many of them by name, nor didwe desire to; but were content with the impression of vivid flashingmovement and colour. Various monkeys swung, leaped and galloped slowlyaway before our advance; pausing to look back at us curiously, the ruffsof fur standing out all around their little black faces. The lower halfof the forest jungle, however, had no spaciousness at all, but a certainbreathless intimacy. Great leaved plants as tall as little trees, andtrees as small as big plants, bound together by vines, made up the "deepimpenetrable jungle" of our childhood imagining. Here were rustlings, sudden scurryings, half-caught glimpses, once or twice a crash as somegreater animal made off. Here and there through the thicket wanderedwell beaten trails, wide, but low, so that to follow them one would haveto bend double. These were the paths of rhinoceroses. The air smelt warmand moist and earthy, like the odour of a greenhouse. 

We skirted this jungle until it gave way to let the plain down to theriver. Then, in an open grove of acacias, and fairly on the river'sbank, we pitched our tents. 

These acacia trees were very noble big chaps, with many branches and athick shade. In their season they are wonderfully blossomed with white, with yellow, sometimes even with vivid red flowers. Beneath them wasonly a small matter of ferns to clear away. 

Before us the sodded bank rounded off ten feet the river itself. At thispoint far up in its youth it was a friendly river. Its noble width ranover shallows of yellow sand or of small pebbles. Save for unexpecteddeep holes one could wade across it anywhere. Yet it was very wide, withstill reaches of water, with islands of gigantic papyrus, with sand barsdividing the current, and with always the vista for a greater or lesserdistance down through the jungle along its banks. From our canvas chairswe could look through on one side to the arid country, and on the otherto this tropical wonderland. 

Yes, at this point in its youth it was indeed a friendly river in everysense of the word. There are three reasons, ordinarily, why one cannotbathe in the African rivers. In the first place, they are nearly alldisagreeably muddy; in the second place, cold water in a tropicalclimate causes horrible congestions; in the third place they swarmwith crocodiles and hippos. But this river was as yet unpolluted by thealluvial soil of the lower countries; the sun on its shallows had warmedits waters almost to blood heat; and the beasts found no congenialhaunts in these clear shoals. Almost before our tents were up the menwere splashing. And always my mental image of that river's beautifulexpanse must include round black heads floating like gourds where thewater ran smoothest. 

Our tents stood all in a row facing the stream, the great trees attheir backs. Down in the grove the men had pitched their little whiteshelters. Happily they settled down to ease. Settling down to ease, inthe case of the African porter, consists in discarding as many clothesas possible. While on the march he wears everything he owns; whetherfrom pride or a desire to simplify transportation I am unable to say. Heis supplied by his employer with a blanket and jersey. As supplementalshe can generally produce a half dozen white man's ill-assorted garments:an old shooting coat, a ragged pair of khaki breeches, a kitchentablecloth for a skirt, or something of the sort. If he can raise anovercoat he is happy, especially if it happen to be a long, thick WINTERovercoat. The possessor of such a garment will wear it conscientiouslythroughout the longest journey and during the hottest noons. But when herelaxes in camp, he puts away all these prideful possessions and turnsout in the savage simplicity of his red blanket. Draped negligently, sometimes very negligently, in what may be termed semi-toga fashion, he stalks about or squats before his little fire in all the glory of aregained savagery. The contrast of the red with his red bronze or blackskin, the freedom and grace of his movements, the upright carriage ofhis fine figure, and the flickering savagery playing in his eyes arevery effective. 

Our men occupied their leisure variously and happily. A great deal oftime they spent before their tiny fires roasting meat and talking. Thistalk was almost invariably of specific personal experiences. They bathedfrequently and with pleasure. They slept. Between times they fashionedingenious affairs of ornament or use: bows and arrows, throwing clubs, snuff-boxes of the tips of antelope horns, bound prettily with brightwire, wooden swords beautifully carved in exact imitation of thewhite man's service weapon, and a hundred other such affairs. At thisparticular time also they were much occupied in making sandals againstthe thorns. These were flat soles of rawhide, the edges pounded to makethem curl up a trifle over the foot, fastened by thongs; very ingenious, and very useful. To their task they brought song. The labour of Africais done to song; weird minor chanting starting high in the falsetto totrickle unevenly down to the lower registers, or where the matter is oneof serious effort, an antiphony of solo and chorus. From all partsof the camp come these softly modulated chantings, low and sweet, occasionally breaking into full voice as the inner occasion swells, then almost immediately falling again to the murmuring undertone of moreconcentrated attention. 

The red blanket was generally worn knotted from one shoulder or boundaround the waist Malay fashion. When it turned into a cowl, with amiserable and humpbacked expression, it became the Official Badge ofIllness. No matter what was the matter that was the proper thing todo-to throw the blanket over the head and to assume as miserable ademeanour as possible. A sore toe demanded just as much concentratedwoe as a case of pneumonia. Sick call was cried after the day's work wasfinished. Then M'ganga or one of the askaris lifted up his voice. 

"N'gonjwa! n'gonjwa!" he shouted; and at the shout the red cowlsgathered in front of the tent. Three things were likely to be thematter: too much meat, fever, or pus infection from slight wounds. Tothese in the rainy season would be added the various sorts of colds. That meant either Epsom salts, quinine, or a little excursion withthe lancet and permanganate. The African traveller gets to be heap bigmedicine man within these narrow limits. 

All the red cowls squatted miserably, oh, very miserably, in a row. The headman stood over them rather fiercely. We surveyed the lotcontemplatively, hoping to heaven that nothing complicated was going toturn up. One of the tent boys hovered in the background as dispensingchemist. 

"Well, " said F. At last, "what's the matter with you?"

The man indicated pointed to his head and the back of his neck andgroaned. If he had a slight headache he groaned just as much asthough his head were splitting. F. Asked a few questions, and tookhis temperature. The clinical thermometer is in itself considered bigmedicine, and often does much good. 

"Too much meat, my friend, " remarked F. In English, and to his boy inSwahili, "bring the cup. "

He put in this cup a triple dose of Epsom salts. The African requiresthree times a white man's dose. This, pathologically, was all that wasrequired: but psychologically the job was just begun. Your African cando wonderful things with his imagination. If he thinks he is going todie, die he will, and very promptly, even though he is ailing of themost trivial complaint. If he thinks he is going to get well, he isvery apt to do so in face of extraordinary odds. Therefore the whiteman desires not only to start his patient's internal economy with Epsomsalts, but also to stir his faith. To this end F. Added to that tripledose of medicine a spoonful of Chutney, one of Worcestershire sauce, a few grains of quinine, Sparklets water and a crystal or so ofpermanganate to turn the mixture a beautiful pink. This assortment thepatient drank with gratitude-and the tears running down his cheeks. 

"He will carry a load to-morrow, " F. Told the attentive M'ganga. 

The next patient had fever. This one got twenty grains of quinine inwater. 

"This man carries no load to-morrow, " was the direction, "but he mustnot drop behind. "

Two or three surgical cases followed. Then a big Kavirondo rose to hisfeet. 

"Nini?" demanded F. 

"Homa-fever, " whined the man. 

F. Clapped his hand on the back of the other's neck. 

"I think, " he remarked contemplatively in English, "that you're a liar, and want to get out of carrying your load. "

The clinical thermometer showed no evidence of temperature. 

"I'm pretty near sure you're a liar, " observed F. In the pleasantestconversational tone and still in English, "but you may be merely a poordiagnostician. Perhaps your poor insides couldn't get away with thatrotten meat I saw you lugging around. We'll see. "

So he mixed a pint of medicine. 

"There's Epsom salts for the real part of trouble, " observed F. , stilltalking to himself, "and here's a few things for the fake. "

He then proceeded to concoct a mixture whose recoil was the exactmeasure of his imagination. The imagination was only limited by thenecessity of keeping the mixture harmless. Every hot, biting, nauseoushorror in camp went into that pint measure. 

"There, " concluded F. , "if you drink that and come back again to-morrowfor treatment, I'll believe you ARE sick. "

Without undue pride I would like to record that I was the first to thinkof putting in a peculiarly nauseous gun oil, and thereby acquired areputation of making tremendous medicine. 

So implicit is this faith in white man's medicine that at one of theGovernment posts we were approached by one of the secondary chiefs ofthe district. He was a very nifty savage, dressed for calling, with hishair done in ropes like a French poodle's, his skin carefully oiled andreddened, his armlets and necklets polished, and with the ceremonialball of black feathers on the end of his long spear. His gait was thepeculiar mincing teeter of savage conventional society. According tocustom, he approached unsmiling, spat carefully in his palm, and shookhands. Then he squatted and waited. 

"What is it?" we asked after it became evident he really wantedsomething besides the pleasure of our company. 

"N'dowa-medicine, " said he. 

"Why do you not go the Government dispensary?" we demanded. 

"The doctor there is an Indian; I want REAL medicine, white man'smedicine, " he explained. 

Immensely flattered, of course, we wanted further to know what ailedhim. 

"Nothing, " said he blandly, "nothing at all; but it seemed an excellentchance to get good medicine. "

After the clinic was all attended to, we retired to our tents and thescreeching-hot bath so grateful in the tropics. When we emerged, inour mosquito boots and pajamas, the daylight was gone. Scores of littleblazes licked and leaped in the velvet blackness round about, castingthe undergrowth and the lower branches of the trees into flat planeslike the cardboard of a stage setting. Cheerful, squatted figures sat insilhouette or in the relief of chance high light. Long switches ofmeat roasted before the fires. A hum of talk, bursts of laughter, thecrooning of minor chants mingled with the crackling of thorns. Beforeour tents stood the table set for supper. Beyond it lay the pile offirewood, later to be burned on the altar of our safety against beasts. The moonlight was casting milky shadows over the river and under thetrees opposite. In those shadows gleamed many fireflies. Overhead weremillions of stars, and a little breeze that wandered through upperbranches. 

But in Equatorial Africa the simple bands of velvet black, against thespangled brightnesses that make up the visual night world, must give wayin interest to the other world of sound. The air hums with an undertoneof insects; the plain and hill and jungle are populous with voicesfurtive or bold. In daytime one sees animals enough, in all conscience, but only at night does he sense the almost oppressive feeling of theteeming life about him. The darkness is peopled. Zebra bark, bucks blowor snort or make the weird noises of their respective species; hyenashowl; out of an immense simian silence a group of monkeys suddenly breakinto chatterings; ostriches utter their deep hollow boom; small thingsscurry and squeak; a certain weird bird of the curlew or plover sortwails like a lonesome soul. Especially by the river, as here, are theboomings of the weirdest of weird bullfrogs, and the splashings andswishings of crocodile and hippopotamus. One is impressed with thebusyness of the world surrounding him; every bird or beast, the hunterand the hunted, is the centre of many important affairs. The worldswarms. 

And then, some miles away a lion roars, the earth and air vibrating tothe sheer power of the sound. The world falls to a blank dead silence. For a full minute every living creature of the jungle or of the veldtholds its breath. Their lord has spoken. 

After dinner we sat in our canvas chairs, smoking. The guard fire infront of our tent had been lit. On the other side of it stood one of ouraskaris leaning on his musket. He and his three companions, turn about, keep the flames bright against the fiercer creatures. 

After a time we grew sleepy. I called Saa-sita and entrusted to him mywatch. On the crystal of this I had pasted a small piece of surgeon'splaster. When the hour hand reached the surgeon's plaster, he must wakeus up. Saa-sita was a very conscientious and careful man. One day I tooksome time hitching my pedometer properly to his belt: I could not wearit effectively myself because I was on horseback. At the end of theten-hour march it registered a mile and a fraction. Saa-sita explainedthat he wished to take especial care of it, so he had wrapped it in acloth and carried it all day in his hand!

We turned in. As I reached over to extinguish the lantern I issued mylast command for the day. 

"Watcha kalele, Saa-sita, " I told the askari; at once he lifted uphis voice to repeat my words. "Watcha kalele!" Immediately from theResponsible all over camp the word came back-from gunbearers, fromM'ganga, from tent boys-"kalele! kalele! kalele!"

Thus commanded, the boisterous fun, the croon of intimate talk, thegently rising and falling tide of melody fell to complete silence. Onlyremained the crackling of the fire and the innumerable voices of thetropical night. 

VIII. THE RIVER JUNGLE

We camped along this river for several weeks, poking indefinitely andhappily around the country in all directions to see what we could see. Generally we went together, for neither B. Nor myself had been tried outas yet on dangerous game-those easy rhinos hardly counted-and I think weboth preferred to feel that we had backing until we knew what our nerveswere going to do with us. Nevertheless, occasionally, I would take MembaSasa and go out for a little purposeless stroll a few miles up or downriver. Sometimes we skirted the jungle, sometimes we held as near aspossible to the river's bank, sometimes we cut loose and rambled throughthe dry, crackling scrub over the low volcanic hills of the arid countryoutside. 

Nothing can equal the intense interest of the most ordinary walk inAfrica. It is the only country I know of where a man is thoroughly andcontinuously alive. Often when riding horseback with the dogs in myCalifornia home I have watched them in envy of the keen, alert interestthey took in every stone, stick, and bush, in every sight, sound, andsmell. With equal frequency I have expressed that envy, but as somethingunattainable to a human being's more phlegmatic make-up. In Africa oneactually rises to continuous alertness. There are dozy moments-exceptyou curl up in a safe place for the PURPOSE of dozing; again just likethe dog! Every bush, every hollow, every high tuft of grass, every deepshadow must be scrutinized for danger. It will not do to pass carelesslyany possible lurking place. At the same time the sense of hearingmust be on guard; so that no break of twig or crash of bough can gounremarked. Rhinoceroses conceal themselves most cannily, and have adeceitful habit of leaping from a nap into their swiftest stride. Cobrasand puff adders are scarce, to be sure, but very deadly. Lions willgenerally give way, if not shot at or too closely pressed; neverthelessthere is always the chance of cubs or too close a surprise. Buffalo lurkdaytimes in the deep thickets, but occasionally a rogue bull lives whereyour trail will lead. These things do not happen often, but in the longrun they surely do happen, and once is quite enough provided the beastgets in. 

At first this continual alertness and tension is rather exhausting; butafter a very short time it becomes second nature. A sudden rustle theother side a bush no longer brings you up all standing with your heartin your throat; but you are aware of it, and you are facing the possibledanger almost before your slower brain has issued any orders to thateffect. 

In rereading the above, I am afraid that I am conveying the idea thatone here walks under the shadow of continual uneasiness. This is not inthe least so. One enjoys the sun, and the birds and the little things. He cultivates the great leisure of mind that shall fill the breadth ofhis outlook abroad over a newly wonderful world. But underneath it allis the alertness, the responsiveness to quick reflexes of judgment andaction, the intimate correlations to immediate environment which mustcharacterize the instincts of the higher animals. And it is good to livethese things. 

Along the edge of that river jungle were many strange and beautifulaffairs. I could slip along among the high clumps of the thicker bushesin such a manner as to be continually coming around unexpected bends. Ofsuch maneouvres are surprises made. The graceful red impalla were herevery abundant. I would come on them, their heads up, their great earsflung forward, their noses twitching in inquiry of something theysuspected but could not fully sense. When slightly alarmed or suspiciousthe does always stood compactly in a herd, while the bucks remaineddiscreetly in the background, their beautiful, branching, widespreadhorns showing over the backs of their harems. The impalla is, in myopinion, one of the most beautiful and graceful of the African bucks, aperpetual delight to watch either standing or running. These beasts areextraordinarily agile, and have a habit of breaking their ordinary fastrun by unexpectedly leaping high in the air. At a distance they givesomewhat the effect of dolphins at sea, only their leaps are higher andmore nearly perpendicular. Once or twice I have even seen one jump overthe back of another. On another occasion we saw a herd of twenty-five orthirty cross a road of which, evidently, they were a little suspicious. We could not find a single hoof mark in the dust! Generally these beastsfrequent thin brush country; but I have three or four times seen themquite out in the open flat plains, feeding with the hartebeeste andzebra. They are about the size of our ordinary deer, are delicatelyfashioned, and can utter the most incongruously grotesque of noises byway of calls or ordinary conversation. 

The lack of curiosity, or the lack of gallantry, of the impalla buckswas, in my experience, quite characteristic. They were almost always thefarthest in the background and the first away when danger threatened. The ladies could look out for themselves. They had no horns to save;and what do the fool women mean by showing so little sense, anyway! Theydeserve what they get! It used to amuse me a lot to observe the utterabandonment of all responsibility by these handsome gentlemen. When itcame time to depart, they departed. Hang the girls! They trailed alongafter as fast as they could. 

The waterbuck-a fine large beast about the size of our caribou, awell-conditioned buck resembling in form and attitude the finestof Landseer's stags-on the other hand, had a little more sense ofresponsibility, when he had anything to do with the sex at all. He washardly what you might call a strictly domestic character. I have huntedthrough a country for several days at a time without seeing a singlemature buck of this species, although there were plenty of does, inherds of ten to fifty, with a few infants among them just sproutinghorns. Then finally, in some small grassy valley, I would come on theMen's Club. There they were, ten, twenty, three dozen of them, havingthe finest kind of an untramelled masculine time all by themselves. Generally, however, I will say for them, they took care of their ownpeoples. There would quite likely be one big old fellow, his harem ofvarying numbers, and the younger subordinate bucks all together in ahappy family. When some one of the lot announced that something wasabout, and they had all lined up to stare in the suspected direction, the big buck was there in the foreground of inquiry. When finally theymade me out, it was generally the big buck who gave the signal. Hewent first, to be sure, but his going first was evidently an act ofleadership, and not merely a disgraceful desire to get away before therest did. 

But the waterbuck had to yield in turn to the plainsgazelles; especially to the Thompson's gazelle, familiarly-andaffectionately-known as the "Tommy. " He is a quaint little chap, standing only a foot and a half tall at the shoulder, fawn colour ontop, white beneath, with a black, horizontal stripe on his side, likea chipmunk, most lightly and gracefully built. When he was first made, somebody told him that unless he did something characteristic, like waggling his little tail, he was likely to be mistaken by theundiscriminating for his bigger cousin, the Grant's gazelle. He haswaggled his tail ever since, and so is almost never mistaken for aGrant's gazelle, even by the undiscriminating. Evidently his religion isMohammedan, for he always has a great many wives. He takes good care ofthem, however. When danger appears, even when danger threatens, heis the last to leave the field. Here and there he dashes frantically, seeing that the women and children get off. And when the herd tops thehill, Tommy's little horns bring up the rear of the procession. I likeTommy. He is a cheerful, gallant, quaint little person, with the air ofbeing quite satisfied with his own solution of this complicated world. 

Among the low brush at the edge of the river jungle dwelt also thedik-dik, the tiniest miniature of a deer you could possibly imagine. His legs are lead pencil size, he stands only about nine inches tall, heweighs from five to ten pounds; and yet he is a perfect little antelope, horns and all. I used to see him singly or in pairs standing quitemotionless and all but invisible in the shade of bushes; or leapingsuddenly to his feet and scurrying away like mad through the dry grass. His personal opinion of me was generally expressed in a loud clearwhistle. But then nobody in this strange country talks the language youwould naturally expect him to talk! Zebra bark, hyenas laugh, impallasgrunt, ostriches boom like drums, leopards utter a plaintive sigh, hornbills cry like a stage child, bushbucks sound like a cross betweena dog and a squawky toy-and so on. There is only one safe rule of thenovice in Africa: NEVER BELIEVE A WORD THE JUNGLE AND VELDT PEOPLE TELLYOU. 

These two-the impalla and the waterbuck-were the principal buck we wouldsee close to the river. Occasionally, however, we came on a few oryx, down for a drink, beautiful big antelope, with white and black faces, roached manes, and straight, nearly parallel, rapier horns upward ofthree feet long. A herd of these creatures, the light gleaming on theirweapons, held all at the same slant, was like a regiment of bayonets inthe sun. And there were also the rhinoceroses to be carefully espiedand avoided. They lay obliterated beneath the shade of bushes, and arosewith a mighty blow-off of steam. Whereupon we withdrew silently, for wewanted to shoot no more rhinos, unless we had to. 

Beneath all these obvious and startling things, a thousand otherinteresting matters were afoot. In the mass and texture of the junglegrew many strange trees and shrubs. One most scrubby, fat and leaflesstree, looking as though it were just about to give up a discouragedexistence, surprised us by putting forth, apparently directly fromits bloated wood, the most wonderful red blossoms. Another otherwiseself-respecting tree hung itself all over with plump bologna sausagesabout two feet long and five inches thick. A curious vine hung like arope, with Turk's-head knots about a foot apart on its whole length, like the hand-over-hand ropes of gymnasiums. Other ropes were studdedall over with thick blunt bosses, resembling much the outbreak on onesort of Arts-and-Crafts door: the sort intended to repel Mail-cladHosts. 

The monkeys undoubtedly used such obvious highways through the trees. These little people were very common. As we walked along, they withdrewbefore us. We could make out their figures galloping hastily across theopen places, mounting bushes and stubs to take a satisfying backwardlook, clambering to treetops, and launching themselves across theabysses between limbs. If we went slowly, they retired in silence. Ifwe hurried at all, they protested in direct ratio to the speed ofour advance. And when later the whole safari, loads on heads, marchedinconsiderately through their jungle! We happened to be hunting on aparallel course a half mile away, and we could trace accurately theprogress of our men by the outraged shrieks, chatterings, appeals tohigh heaven for at least elemental justice to the monkey people. 

Often, too, we would come on concourses of the big baboons. Theycertainly carried on weighty affairs of their own according to a fixedpolity. I never got well enough acquainted with them to master thedetails of their government, but it was indubitably built on patriarchallines. When we succeeded in approaching without being discovered, wewould frequently find the old men baboons squatting on their heels in aperfect circle, evidently discussing matters of weight and portent. Seenfrom a distance, their group so much resembled the council circlesof native warriors that sometimes, in a native country, we made thatmistake. Outside this solemn council, the women, young men and childrenwent about their daily business, whatever that was. Up convenient lowtrees or bushes roosted sentinels. 

We never remained long undiscovered. One of the sentinels barkedsharply. At once the whole lot loped away, speedily but with a curiouseffect of deliberation. The men folks held their tails in a proud highsideways arch; the curious youngsters clambered up bushes to take ahasty look; the babies clung desperately with all four feet to the thickfur on their mothers' backs; the mothers galloped along imperturbablyunheeding of infantile troubles aloft. The side hill was bewilderingwith the big bobbing black forms. 

In this lower country the weather was hot, and the sun very strong. Theheated air was full of the sounds of insects; some of them comfortable, like the buzzing of bees, some of them strange and unusual to us. Onecicada had a sustained note, in quality about like that of our ownAugust-day's friend, but in quantity and duration as the roar of a trainto the gentle hum of a good motor car. Like all cicada noises it did notusurp the sound world, but constituted itself an underlying basis, soto speak. And when it stopped the silence seemed to rush in as into avacuum!

We had likewise the aeroplane beetle. He was so big that he would havemade good wing-shooting. His manner of flight was the straight-ahead, heap-of-buzz, plenty-busy, don't-stop-a-minute-or-you'll-come-downmethod of the aeroplane; and he made the same sort of a hum. Hisfirst-cousin, mechanically, was what we called the wind-up-the-watchinsect. This specimen possessed a watch-an old-fashioned Waterbury, evidently-that he was continually winding. It must have been hard workfor the poor chap, for it sounded like a very big watch. 

All these things were amusing. So were the birds. The African bird isquite inclined to be didactic. He believes you need advice, and he meansto give it. To this end he repeats the same thing over and over untilhe thinks you surely cannot misunderstand. One chap especially whom wecalled the lawyer bird, and who lived in the treetops, had four phrasesto impart. He said them very deliberately, with due pause between each;then he repeated them rapidly; finally he said them all over again withan exasperated bearing-down emphasis. The joke of it is I cannot nowremember just how they went! Another feathered pedagogue was continuallywarning us to go slow; very good advice near an African jungle. "Poley-poley! Poley-poley!" he warned again and again; which is goodSwahili for "slowly! slowly!" We always minded him. There were manyothers, equally impressed with their own wisdom, but the one I rememberwith most amusement was a dilatory person who apparently never gotaround to his job until near sunset. Evidently he had contracted todeliver just so many warnings per diem; and invariably he got so busychasing insects, enjoying the sun, gossiping with a friend and generallyfootling about that the late afternoon caught him unawares with never achirp accomplished. So he sat in a bush and said his say over and overjust as fast as he could without pause for breath or recreation. It wasreally quite a feat. Just at dusk, after two hours of gabbling, he wouldreach the end of his contracted number. With final relieved chirp heended. 

It has been said that African birds are "songless. " This is a carelessstatement that can easily be read to mean that African birds are silent. The writer evidently must have had in mind as a criterion some of ourown or the English great feathered soloists. Certainly the Africanjungle seems to produce no individual performers as sustained as our ownbob-o-link, our hermit thrush, or even our common robin. But the Africanbirds are vocal enough, for all that. Some of them have a richness anddepth of timbre perhaps unequalled elsewhere. Of such is the chime-birdwith his deep double note; or the bell-bird tolling like a cathedral inthe blackness of the forest; or the bottle bird that apparently poursgurgling liquid gold from a silver jug. As the jungle is exceedinglypopulous of these feathered specialists, it follows that the earlymorning chorus is wonderful. Africa may not possess the soloists, butits full orchestrial effects are superb. 

Naturally under the equator one expects and demands the "gorgeoustropical plumage" of the books. He is not disappointed. The sun-birdsof fifty odd species, the brilliant blue starlings, the various parrots, the variegated hornbills, the widower-birds, and dozens of others whosenames would mean nothing flash here and there in the shadow and in theopen. With them are hundreds of quiet little bodies just as interestingto one who likes birds. From the trees and bushes hang pear-shapednests plaited beautifully of long grasses, hard and smooth as hand-madebaskets, the work of the various sorts of weaver-birds. In the tops ofthe trees roosted tall marabout storks like dissipated, hairless oldclub-men in well-groomed, correct evening dress. 

And around camp gathered the swift brown kites. They were robbers andvillains, but we could not hate them. All day long they sailed backand forth spying sharply. When they thought they saw their chance, theystooped with incredible swiftness to seize a piece of meat. Sometimesthey would snatch their prize almost from the hands of its rightfulowner, and would swoop triumphantly upward again pursued by polyglotmaledictions and a throwing stick. They were very skilful on theirwings. I have many times seen them, while flying, tear up and devourlarge chunks of meat. It seems to my inexperience as an aviator rather anice feat to keep your balance while tearing with your beak at meat heldin your talons. Regardless of other landmarks, we always knew when wewere nearing camp, after one of our strolls, by the gracefully wheelingfigures of our kites. 

IX. THE FIRST LION

One day we all set out to make our discoveries: F. , B. , and I with ourgunbearers, Memba Sasa, Mavrouki, and Simba, and ten porters to bringin the trophies, which we wanted very much, and the meat, which the menwanted still more. We rode our horses, and the syces followed. This madequite a field force-nineteen men all told. Nineteen white men would beexceedingly unlikely to get within a liberal half mile of anything; butthe native has sneaky ways. 

At first we followed between the river and the low hills, but when thelatter drew back to leave open a broad flat, we followed their line. Atthis point they rose to a clifflike headland a hundred and fifty feethigh, flat on top. We decided to investigate that mesa, both for thepossibilities of game, and for the chance of a view abroad. 

The footing was exceedingly noisy and treacherous, for it was composedof flat, tinkling little stones. Dried-up, skimpy bushes just higherthan our heads made a thin but regular cover. There seemed not to be aspear of anything edible, yet we caught the flash of red as a herd ofimpalla melted away at our rather noisy approach. Near the foot of thehill we dismounted, with orders to all the men but the gunbearers tosit down and make themselves comfortable. Should we need them we couldeasily either signal or send word. Then we set ourselves toilsomely toclamber up that volcanic hill. 

It was not particularly easy going, especially as we were trying to walkquietly. You see, we were about to surmount a skyline. Surmounting askyline is always most exciting anywhere, for what lies beyond is atonce revealed as a whole and contains the very essence of the unknown;but most decidedly is this true in Africa. That mesa looked flat, andalmost anything might be grazing or browsing there. So we proceededgingerly, with due regard to the rolling of the loose rocks or thetinkling of the little pebbles. 

But long before we had reached that alluring skyline we were halted bythe gentle snapping of Mavrouki's fingers. That, strangely enough, is asound to which wild animals seem to pay no attention, and is thereforemost useful as a signal. We looked back. The three gunbearers werestaring to the right of our course. About a hundred yards away, onthe steep side hill, and partly concealed by the brush, stood tworhinoceroses. 

They were side by side, apparently dozing. We squatted on our heels fora consultation. 

The obvious thing, as the wind was from them, was to sneak quietly by, saying nuffin' to nobody. But although we wanted no more rhino, we verymuch wanted rhino pictures. A discussion developed no really good reasonwhy we should not kodak these especial rhinos-except that there were twoof them. So we began to worm our way quietly through the bushes in theirdirection. 

F. And B. Deployed on the flanks, their double-barrelled rifles readyfor instant action. I occupied the middle with that dangerous weapon the3A kodak. Memba Sasa followed at my elbow, holding my big gun. 

Now the trouble with modern photography is that it is altogether toolavish in its depiction of distances. If you do not believe it, take apicture of a horse at as short a range as twenty-five yards. That equinewill, in the development, have receded to a respectable middle distance. Therefore it had been agreed that the advance of the battle line wasto cease only when those rhinoceroses loomed up reasonably large inthe finder. I kept looking into the finder, you may be sure. Nearer andnearer we crept. The great beasts were evidently basking in the sun. Their little pig eyes alone gave any sign of life. Otherwise theyexhibited the complete immobility of something done in granite. Probablyno other beast impresses one with quite this quality. I suppose it isbecause even the little motions peculiar to other animals are withthe rhinoceros entirely lacking. He is not in the least of a nervousdisposition, so he does not stamp his feet nor change his position. Itis useless for him to wag his tail; for, in the first place, the tail isabsurdly inadequate; and, in the second place, flies are not among histroubles. Flies wouldn't bother you either, if you had a skin two inchesthick. So there they stood, inert and solid as two huge brown rocks, save for the deep, wicked twinkle of their little eyes. 

Yes, we were close enough to "see the whites of their eyes, " if theyhad had any: and also to be within the range of their limited vision. Ofcourse we were now stalking, and taking advantage of all the cover. 

Those rhinoceroses looked to me like two Dreadnaughts. The Africantwo-horned rhinoceros is a bigger animal anyway than our circus friend, who generally comes from India. One of these brutes I measured went fivefeet nine inches at the shoulder, and was thirteen feet six inches frombow to stern. Compare these dimensions with your own height and with thelength of your motor car. It is one thing to take on such beasts in thehurry of surprise, the excitement of a charge, or to stalk up to withina respectable range of them with a gun at ready. But this deliberatesneaking up with the hope of being able to sneak away again was a littletoo slow and cold-blooded. It made me nervous. I liked it, but I knewat the time I was going to like it a whole lot better when it wastriumphantly over. 

We were now within twenty yards (they were standing starboard side on), and I prepared to get my picture. To do so I would either have to stepquietly out into sight, trusting to the shadow and the slowness of mymovements to escape observation, or hold the camera above the bush, directing it by guess work. It was a little difficult to decide. I knewwhat I OUGHT to do--

Without the slightest premonitory warning those two brutes snorted andwhirled in their tracks to stand facing in our direction. After the deadstillness they made a tremendous row, what with the jerky suddenness oftheir movements, their loud snorts, and the avalanche of echoing stonesand boulders they started down the hill. 

This was the magnificent opportunity. At this point I should boldlyhave stepped out from behind my bush, levelled my trusty 3A, and coollysnapped the beasts, "charging at fifteen yards. " Then, if B. 's and F. 'sshots went absolutely true, or if the brutes didn't happen to smash thecamera as well as me, I, or my executors as the case might be, wouldhave had a fine picture. 

But I didn't. I dropped that expensive 3A Special on some hard rocks, and grabbed my rifle from Memba Sasa. If you want really to know why, goconfront your motor car at fifteen or twenty paces, multiply him by two, and endow him with an eagerly malicious disposition. 

They advanced several yards, halted, faced us for perhaps five orsix seconds, uttered snort, whirled with the agility of polo ponies, departed at a swinging trot and with surprising agility along the steepside hill. 

I recovered the camera, undamaged, and we continued our climb. 

The top of the mesa was disappointing as far as game was concerned. Itwas covered all over with red stones, round, and as large as a man'shead. Thornbushes found some sort of sustenance in the interstices. 

But we had gained to a magnificent view. Below us lay the narrow flat, then the winding jungle of our river, then long rolling desert country, gray with thorn scrub, sweeping upward to the base of castellated buttesand one tremendous riven cliff mountain, dropping over the horizon to avery distant blue range. Behind us eight or ten miles away was the lowridge through which our journey had come. The mesa on which we stoodbroke back at right angles to admit another stream flowing into our own. Beyond this stream were rolling hills, and scrub country, the hint ofblue peaks and illimitable distances falling away to the unknown TaraDesert and the sea. 

There seemed to be nothing much to be gained here, so we made up ourminds to cut across the mesa, and from the other edge of it to overlookthe valley of the tributary river. This we would descend until we cameto our horses. 

Accordingly we stumbled across a mile or so of those round and rollingstones. Then we found ourselves overlooking a wide flat or pocket wherethe stream valley widened. It extended even as far as the upward flingof the barrier ranges. Thick scrub covered it, but erratically, so thathere and there were little openings or thin places. We sat down, mannedour trusty prism glasses, and gave ourselves to the pleasing occupationof looking the country over inch by inch. 

This is great fun. It is a game a good deal like puzzle pictures. Re-examination generally develops new and unexpected beasts. We repeatedto each other aloud the results of our scrutiny, always without removingthe glasses from our eyes. 

"Oryx, one, " said F. ; "oryx, two. "

"Giraffe, " reported B. , "and a herd of impalla. "

I saw another giraffe, and another oryx, then two rhinoceroses. 

The three bearers squatted on their heels behind us, their fierce eyesstaring straight ahead, seeing with the naked eye what we were findingwith six-power glasses. 

We turned to descend the hill. In the very centre of the deep shade ofa clump of trees, I saw the gleam of a waterbuck's horns. While I wastelling of this, the beast stepped from his concealment, trotted a shortdistance upstream and turned to climb a little ridge parallel to thatby which we were descending. About halfway up he stopped, staring inour direction, his head erect, the slight ruff under his neck standingforward. He was a good four hundred yards away. B. , who wanted him, decided the shot too chancy. He and F. Slipped backward until they hadgained the cover of the little ridge, then hastened down the bed ofthe ravine. Their purpose was to follow the course already taken by thewaterbuck until they should have sneaked within better range. In themeantime I and the gunbearers sat down in full view of the buck. Thiswas to keep his attention distracted. 

We sat there a long time. The buck never moved but continued to stareat what evidently puzzled him. Time passes very slowly in suchcircumstances, and it seemed incredible that the beast should continuemuch longer to hold his fixed attitude. Nevertheless B. And F. Wereworking hard. We caught glimpses of them occasionally slipping from bushto bush. Finally B. Knelt and levelled his rifle. At once I turned myglasses on the buck. Before the sound of the rifle had reached me, I sawhim start convulsively, then make off at the tearing run that indicatesa heart hit. A moment later the crack of the rifle and the dull plunk ofthe hitting bullet struck my ear. 

We tracked him fifty yards to where he lay dead. He was a fine trophy, and we at once set the boys to preparing it and taking the meat. In themeantime we sauntered down to look at the stream. It was a smallrapid affair, but in heavy papyrus, with sparse trees, and occasionalthickets, and dry hard banks. The papyrus should make a good lurkingplace for almost anything; but the few points of access to the waterfailed to show many interesting tracks. Nevertheless we decided toexplore a short distance. 

For an hour we walked among high thornbushes, over baking hot earth. Wesaw two or three dik-dik and one of the giraffes. At that time it hadbecome very hot, and the sun was bearing down on us as with the weightof a heavy hand. The air had the scorching, blasting quality of anopened furnace door. Our mouths were getting dry and sticky in thatpeculiar stage of thirst on which no luke-warm canteen water innecessarily limited quantity has any effect. So we turned back, pickedup the men with the waterbuck, and plodded on down the little stream, or, rather, on the red-hot dry valley bottom outside the stream'scourse, to where the syces were waiting with our horses. We mounted withgreat thankfulness. It was now eleven o'clock, and we considered our dayas finished. 

The best way for a distance seemed to follow the course of the tributarystream to its point of junction with our river. We rode along, ratherrelaxed in the suffocating heat. F. Was nearest the stream. At one pointit freed itself of trees and brush and ran clear, save for low papyrus, ten feet down below a steep eroded bank. F. Looked over and uttered astartled exclamation. I spurred my horse forward to see. 

Below us, about fifteen yards away, was the carcass of a waterbuck halfhidden in the foot-high grass. A lion and two lionesses stood upon it, staring up at us with great yellow eyes. That picture is a very vividone in my memory, for those were the first wild lions I had ever seen. My most lively impression was of their unexpected size. They seemed tobulk fully a third larger than my expectation. 

The magnificent beasts stood only long enough to see clearly what haddisturbed them, then turned, and in two bounds had gained the shelter ofthe thicket. 

Now the habit in Africa is to let your gunbearers carry all your guns. You yourself stride along hand free. It is an English idea, andis pretty generally adopted out there by every one, of whatevernationality. They will explain it to you by saying that in such aclimate a man should do only necessary physical work, and that agood gunbearer will get a weapon into your hand so quickly and in soconvenient a position that you will lose no time. I acknowledge thegunbearers are sometimes very skilful at this, but I do deny that thereis no loss of time. The instant of distracted attention while receivinga weapon, the necessity of recollecting the nervous correlationsafter the transfer, very often mark just the difference between a sureinstinctive snapshot and a lost opportunity. It reasons that the manwith the rifle in his hand reacts instinctively, in one motion, to gethis weapon into play. If the gunbearer has the gun, HE must first reactto pass it up, the master must receive it properly, and THEN, and notuntil then, may go on from where the other man began. As for physicallabour in the tropics: if a grown man cannot without discomfort or evileffects carry an eight-pound rifle, he is too feeble to go out at all. In a long Western experience I have learned never to be separated frommy weapon; and I believe the continuance of this habit in Africa savedme a good number of chances. 

At any rate, we all flung ourselves off our horses. I, having myrifle in my hand, managed to throw a shot after the biggest lion as hevanished. It was a snap at nothing, and missed. Then in an opening onthe edge a hundred yards away appeared one of the lionesses. She wastrotting slowly, and on her I had time to draw a hasty aim. At the shotshe bounded high in the air, fell, rolled over, and was up and into thethicket before I had much more than time to pump up another shell fromthe magazine. Memba Sasa in his eagerness got in the way-the first andlast time he ever made a mistake in the field. 

By this time the others had got hold of their weapons. We fronted theblank face of the thicket. 

The wounded animal would stand a little waiting. We made a wide circleto the other side of the stream. There we quickly picked up the trail ofthe two uninjured beasts. They had headed directly over the hill, wherewe speedily lost all trace of them on the flint-like surface of theground. We saw a big pack of baboons in the only likely direction fora lion to go. Being thus thrown back on a choice of a hundred otherunlikely directions, we gave up that slim chance and returned to thethicket. 

This proved to be a very dense piece of cover. Above the height of thewaist the interlocking branches would absolutely prevent any progress, but by stooping low we could see dimly among the simpler main stems toa distance of perhaps fifteen or twenty feet. This combination at onceafforded the wounded lioness plenty of cover in which to hide, plenty ofroom in which to charge home, and placed us under the disadvantage of acrouched or crawling attitude with limited vision. We talked the matterover very thoroughly. There was only one way to get that lioness out;and that was to go after her. The job of going after her needed someplanning. The lion is cunning and exceeding fierce. A flank attack, oncewe were in the thicket, was as much to be expected as a frontal charge. 

We advanced to the thicket's edge with many precautions. To our reliefwe found she had left us a definite trail. B. And I kneeling took uppositions on either side, our rifles ready. F. And Simba crawled byinches eight or ten feet inside the thicket. Then, having executed thismanoeuvre safely, B. Moved up to protect our rear while I, with MembaSasa, slid down to join F. 

From this point we moved forward alternately. I would crouch, allalert, my rifle ready, while F. Slipped by me and a few feet ahead. Thenhe get organized for battle while I passed him. Memba Sasa and Simba, game as badgers, their fine eyes gleaming with excitement, theirfaces shining, crept along at the rear. B. Knelt outside the thicket, straining his eyes for the slightest movement either side of the line ofour advance. Often these wily animals will sneak back in a half circleto attack their pursuers from behind. Two or three of the bolder porterscrouched alongside B. , peering eagerly. The rest had quite properlyretired to the safe distance where the horses stood. 

We progressed very, very slowly. Every splash of light or mottledshadow, every clump of bush stems, every fallen log had to be examined, and then examined again. And how we did strain our eyes in a vainattempt to penetrate the half lights, the duskinesses of the closed-inthicket not over fifteen feet away! And then the movement forward of twofeet would bring into our field of vision an entirely new set of tinyvistas and possible lurking places. 

Speaking for myself, I was keyed up to a tremendous tension. I stareduntil my eyes ached; every muscle and nerve was taut. Everythingdepended on seeing the beast promptly, and firing quickly. With themanifest advantage of being able to see us, she would spring to battlefully prepared. A yellow flash and a quick shot seemed about to size upthat situation. Every few moments, I remember, I surreptitiouslyheld out my hand to see if the constantly growing excitement and thelong-continued strain had affected its steadiness. 

The combination of heat and nervous strain was very exhausting. Thesweat poured from me; and as F. Passed me I saw the great drops standingout on his face. My tongue got dry, my breath came laboriously. FinallyI began to wonder whether physically I should be able to hold out. Wehad been crawling, it seemed, for hours. I dared not look back, but wemust have come a good quarter mile. Finally F. Stopped. 

"I'm all in for water, " he gasped in a whisper. 

Somehow that confession made me feel a lot better. I had thought thatI was the only one. Cautiously we settled back on our heels. Memba Sasaand Simba wiped the sweat from their faces. It seemed that they too hadfound the work severe. That cheered me up still more. 

Simba grinned at us, and, worming his way backward with the sinuousityof a snake, he disappeared in the direction from which we had come. F. Cursed after him in a whisper both for departing and for taking therisk. But in a moment he had returned carrying two canteens of blessedwater. We took a drink most gratefully. 

I glanced at my watch. It was just under two hours since I had firedmy shot. I looked back. My supposed quarter mile had shrunk to not overfifty feet!

After resting a few moments longer, we again took up our systematicadvance. We made perhaps another fifty feet. We were ascending a verygentle slope. F. Was for the moment ahead. Right before us the liongrowled; a deep rumbling like the end of a great thunder roll, fathomsand fathoms deep, with the inner subterranean vibrations of a heavytrain of cars passing a man inside a sealed building. At the same momentover F. 's shoulder I saw a huge yellow head rise up, the round eyesflashing anger, the small black-tipped ears laid back, the great fangssnarling. The beast was not over twelve feet distant. F. Immediatelyfired. His shot, hitting an intervening twig, went wild. With the utmostcoolness he immediately pulled the other trigger of his double barrel. The cartridge snapped. 

"If you will kindly stoop down-" said I, in what I now remember to berather an exaggeratedly polite tone. As F. 's head disappeared, I placedthe little gold bead of my 405 Winchester where I thought it would dothe most good, and pulled trigger. She rolled over dead. 

The whole affair had begun and finished with unbelievable swiftness. From the growl to the fatal shot I don't suppose four seconds elapsed, for our various actions had followed one another with the speed of theinstinctive. The lioness had growled at our approach, had raised herhead to charge, and had received her deathblow before she had releasedher muscles in the spring. There had been no time to get frightened. 

We sat back for a second. A brown hand reached over my shoulder. 

"Mizouri-mizouri sana!" cried Memba Sasa joyously. I shook the hand. 

"Good business!" said F. "Congratulate you on your first lion. "

We then remembered B. , and shouted to him that all was over. He and theother men wriggled in to where we were lying. He made this distance inabout fifteen seconds. It had taken us nearly an hour. 

We had the lioness dragged out into the open. She was not an especiallylarge beast, as compared to most of the others I killed later, but atthat time she looked to me about as big as they made them. As a matterof fact she was quite big enough, for she stood three feet two inchesat the shoulder-measure that against the wall-and was seven feet andsix inches in length. My first bullet had hit her leg, and the last hadreached her heart. 

Every one shook me by the hand. The gunbearers squatted about thecarcass, skilfully removing the skin to an undertone of curious crooningthat every few moments broke out into one or two bars of a chant. As thebody was uncovered, the men crouched about to cut off little pieces offat. These they rubbed on their foreheads and over their chests, to makethem brave, they said, and cunning, like the lion. 

We remounted and took up our interrupted journey to camp. It wasa little after two, and the heat was at its worst. We rode rathersleepily, for the reaction from the high tension of excitement had setin. Behind us marched the three gunbearers, all abreast, very militaryand proud. Then came the porters in single file, the one carrying thefolded lion skin leading the way; those bearing the waterbuck trophyand meat bringing up the rear. They kept up an undertone of humming ina minor key; occasionally breaking into a short musical phrase in fullvoice. 

We rode an hour. The camp looked very cool and inviting under its widehigh trees, with the river slipping by around the islands of papyrus. Anumber of black heads bobbed about in the shallows. The small fires sentup little wisps of smoke. Around them our boys sprawled, playing simplegames, mending, talking, roasting meat. Their tiny white tents gleamedpleasantly among the cool shadows. 

I had thought of riding nonchalantly up to our own tents, of dismountingwith a careless word of greeting--

"Oh, yes, " I would say, "we did have a good enough day. Pretty hot. Roygot a fine waterbuck. Yes, I got a lion. " (Tableau on part of Billy. )

But Memba Sasa used up all the nonchalance there was. As we entered camphe remarked casually to the nearest man. 

"Bwana na piga simba-the master has killed a lion. "

The man leaped to his feet. 

"Simba! simba! simba!" he yelled. "Na piga simba!"

Every one in camp also leaped to his feet, taking up the cry. From thewater it was echoed as the bathers scrambled ashore. The camp broke intopandemonium. We were surrounded by a dense struggling mass of men. Theyreached up scores of black hands to grasp my own; they seized from meeverything portable and bore it in triumph before me-my water bottle, my rifle, my camera, my whip, my field glasses, even my hat, everythingthat was detachable. Those on the outside danced and lifted up theirvoices in song, improvised for the most part, and in honor of the day'swork. In a vast swirling, laughing, shouting, triumphant mob we sweptthrough the camp to where Billy-by now not very much surprised-waswaiting to get the official news. By the measure of this extravagant joycould we gauge what the killing of a lion means to these people who havealways lived under the dread of his rule. 

X. LIONS

A very large lion I killed stood three feet and nine inches at thewithers, and of course carried his head higher than that. The top ofthe table at which I sit is only two feet three inches from the floor. Coming through the door at my back that lion's head would stand overa foot higher than halfway up. Look at your own writing desk; your owndoor. Furthermore, he was nine feet and eleven inches in a straight linefrom nose to end of tail, or over eleven feet along the contour of theback. If he were to rise on his hind feet to strike a man down, he wouldstand somewhere between seven and eight feet tall, depending on hownearly he straightened up. He weighed just under six hundred pounds, oras much as four well-grown specimens of our own "mountain lion. " I tellyou this that you may realize, as I did not, the size to which a wildlion grows. Either menagerie specimens are stunted in growth, or theirposition and surroundings tend to belittle them, for certainly until aman sees old Leo in the wilderness he has not understood what a fine oldchap he is. 

This tremendous weight is sheer strength. A lion's carcass when the skinis removed is a really beautiful sight. The great muscles lie in ropesand bands; the forearm thicker than a man's leg, the lithe barrel bandedwith brawn; the flanks overlaid by the long thick muscles. And thispower is instinct with the nervous force of a highly organized being. The lion is quick and intelligent and purposeful; so that he brings tohis intenser activities the concentration of vivid passion, whether ofanger, of hunger or of desire. 

So far the opinions of varied experience will jog along together. Atthis point they diverge. 

Just as the lion is one of the most interesting and fascinating ofbeasts, so concerning him one may hear the most diverse opinions. Thisman will tell you that any lion is always dangerous. Another will holdthe king of beasts in the most utter contempt as a coward and a skulker. 

In the first place, generalization about any species of animal is anexceedingly dangerous thing. I believe that, in the case of the higheranimals at least, the differences in individual temperament are quitelikely to be more numerous than the specific likenesses. Just asindividual men are bright or dull, nervous or phlegmatic, cowardly orbrave, so individual animals vary in like respect. Our own hunters willrecall from their personal experiences how the big bear may have satdown and bawled harmlessly for mercy, while the little unconsideredfellow did his best until finished off: how one buck dropped instantlyto a wound that another would carry five miles: how of two equallymatched warriors of the herd one will give way in the fight, whilestill uninjured, before his perhaps badly wounded antagonist. The casualobserver might-and often does-say that all bears are cowardly, all bucksare easily killed, or the reverse, according as the god of chance hastreated him to one spectacle or the other. As well try to generalizeon the human race-as is a certain ecclesiastical habit-that all men arevile or noble, dishonest or upright, wise or foolish. 

The higher we go in the scale the truer this individualism holds. Weare forced to reason not from the bulk of observations, but from theiraverages. If we find ten bucks who will go a mile wounded to two whosuccumb in their tracks from similar hurts, we are justified in sayingtentatively that the species is tenacious of life. But as experiencebroadens we may modify that statement; for strange indeed are runs ofluck. 

For this reason a good deal of the wise conclusion we read insportsmen's narratives is worth very little. Few men have experienceenough with lions to rise to averages through the possibilities of luck. ESPECIALLY is this true of lions. No beast that roams seems to go moreby luck than felis leo. Good hunters may search for years without seeinghide nor hair of one of the beasts. Selous, one of the greatest, went toEast Africa for the express purpose of getting some of the fine beaststhere, hunted six weeks and saw none. Holmes of the Escarpment has livedin the country six years, has hunted a great deal and has yet to killhis first. One of the railroad officials has for years gone up and downthe Uganda Railway on his handcar, his rifle ready in hopes of the lionthat never appeared; though many are there seen by those with betterfortune. Bronson hunted desperately for this great prize, but failed. Rainsford shot no lions his first trip, and ran into them only threeyears later. Read Abel Chapman's description of his continued bad luckat even seeing the beasts. MacMillan, after five years' unbroken goodfortune, has in the last two years failed to kill a lion, although hehas made many trips for the purpose. F. Told me he followed every rumourof a lion for two years before he got one. Again, one may hear the mostmarvellous of yarns the other way about-of the German who shot one fromthe train on the way up from Mombasa; of the young English tenderfootwho, the first day out, came on three asleep, across a river, and pottedthe lot; and so on. The point is, that in the case of lions the elementof sheer chance seems to begin earlier and last longer than is the casewith any other beast. And, you must remember, experience must thrustthrough the luck element to the solid ground of averages before it canhave much value in the way of generalization. Before he has reached thatsolid ground, a man's opinions depend entirely on what kind of lionshe chances to meet, in what circumstances, and on how matters happen toshape in the crowded moments. 

But though lack of sufficiently extended experience has much to do withthese decided differences of opinion, I believe that misapprehensionhas also its part. The sportsman sees lions on the plains. Likewise thelions see him, and promptly depart to thick cover or rocky butte. Hecomes on them in the scrub; they bound hastily out of sight. He may evenmeet them face to face, but instead of attacking him, they turn to rightand left and make off in the long grass. When he follows them, theysneak cunningly away. If, added to this, he has the good luck to killone or two stone dead at a single shot each, he begins to think there isnot much in lion shooting after all, and goes home proclaiming the kingof beasts a skulking coward. 

After all, on what grounds does he base this conclusion? In what wayhave circumstances been a test of courage at all? The lion did notstand and fight, to be sure; but why should he? What was there in itfor lions? Behind any action must a motive exist. Where is the possiblemotive for any lion to attack on sight? He does not-except in unusualcases-eat men; nothing has occurred to make him angry. The obvious thingis to avoid trouble, unless there is a good reason to seek it. In thatone evidences the lion's good sense, but not his lack of courage. Thatquality has not been called upon at all. 

But if the sportsman had done one of two or three things, I am quitesure he would have had a taste of our friend's mettle. If he had shot atand even grazed the beast; if he had happened upon him where an exit wasnot obvious; or IF HE HAD EVEN FOLLOWED THE LION UNTIL THE LATTER HADBECOME TIRED OF THE ANNOYANCE, he would very soon have discovered thatLeo is not all good nature, and that once on his courage will take himin against any odds. Furthermore, he may be astonished and dismayedto discover that of a group of several lions, two or three besides thewounded animal are quite likely to take up the quarrel and charge too. In other words, in my opinion, the lion avoids trouble when he can, notfrom cowardice but from essential indolence or good nature; but does notneed to be cornered* to fight to the death when in his mind his dignityis sufficiently assailed. 

 * This is an important distinction in estimating the inherent courage of man or beast. Even a mouse will fight when cornered. 

For of all dangerous beasts the lion, when once aroused, will alone faceodds to the end. The rhinoceros, the elephant, and even the buffalo canoften be turned aside by a shot. A lion almost always charges home. *Slower and slower he comes, as the bullets strike; but he comes, untilat last he may be just hitching himself along, his face to the enemy, his fierce spirit undaunted. When finally he rolls over, he bites theearth in great mouthfuls; and so passes fighting to the last. The deathof a lion is a fine sight. 

 * I seem to be generalizing here, but all these conclusions must be understood to take into consideration the liability of individual variation. 

No, I must confess, to me the lion is an object of great respect; andso, I gather, he is to all who have had really extensive experience. Those like Leslie Tarleton, Lord Delamere, W. N. MacMillan, Baron vonBronsart, the Hills, Sir Alfred Pease, who are great lion men, allconcede to the lion a courage and tenacity unequalled by any otherliving beast. My own experience is of course nothing as compared to thatof these men. Yet I saw in my nine months afield seventy-one lions. Noneof these offered to attack when unwounded or not annoyed. On the otherhand, only one turned tail once the battle was on, and she proved to bea three quarters grown lioness, sick and out of condition. 

It is of course indubitable that where lions have been much shot theybecome warier in the matter of keeping out of trouble. They retire tocover earlier in the morning, and they keep more than a perfunctoryoutlook for the casual human being. When hunters first began to go intothe Sotik the lions there would stand imperturbable, staring at theintruder with curiosity or indifference. Now they have learned thatsuch performances are not healthy-and they have probably satisfiedtheir curiosity. But neither in the Sotik, nor even in the plains aroundNairobi itself, does the lion refuse the challenge once it has been putup to him squarely. Nor does he need to be cornered. He charges in quiteblithely from the open plain, once convinced that you are really anannoyance. 

As to habits! The only sure thing about a lion is his originality. Hehas more exceptions to his rules than the German language. Men who havebeen mighty lion hunters for many years, and who have brought to theirhunting close observation, can only tell you what a lion MAY do incertain circumstances. Following very broad principles, they may evenpredict what he is APT to do, but never what he certainly WILL do. Thatis one thing that makes lion hunting interesting. 

In general, then, the lion frequents that part of the country where feedthe great game herds. From them he takes his toll by night, retiringduring the day into the shallow ravines, the brush patches, or the rockylittle buttes. I have, however, seen lions miles from game, slumberingpeacefully atop an ant hill. Indeed, occasionally, a pack of lions likesto live high in the tall-grass ridges where every hunt will mean forthem a four- or five-mile jaunt out and back again. He needs water, after feeding, and so rarely gets farther than eight or ten miles fromthat necessity. 

He hunts at night. This is as nearly invariable a rule as can beformulated in regard to lions. Yet once, and perhaps twice, I sawlionesses stalking through tall grass as early as three o'clock inthe afternoon. This eagerness may, or may not, have had to do with thepossession of hungry cubs. The lion's customary harmlessness in thedaytime is best evidenced, however, by the comparative indifference ofthe game to his presence then. From a hill we watched three of thesebeasts wandering leisurely across the plains below. A herd of kongonisfeeding directly in their path, merely moved aside right and left, quitedeliberately, to leave a passage fifty yards or so wide, but otherwisepaid not the slightest attention. I have several times seen thisincident, or a modification of it. And yet, conversely, on a number ofoccasions we have received our first intimation of the presence of lionsby the wild stampeding of the game away from a certain spot. 

However, the most of his hunting is done by dark. Between the hours ofsundown and nine o'clock he and his comrades may be heard uttering thedeep coughing grunt typical of this time of night. These curious, short, far-sounding calls may be mere evidences of intention, or they may bea sort of signal by means of which the various hunters keep in touch. After a little they cease. Then one is quite likely to hear thepetulant, alarmed barking of zebra, or to feel the vibrations of manyhoofs. There is a sense of hurried, flurried uneasiness abroad on theveldt. 

The lion generally springs on his prey from behind or a little off thequarter. By the impetus his own weight he hurls his victim forward, doubling its head under, and very neatly breaking its neck. I have neverseen this done, but the process has been well observed and attested; andcertainly, of the many hundreds of lion kills I have taken the painsto inspect, the majority had had their necks broken. Sometimes, butapparently more rarely, the lion kills its prey by a bite in the back ofthe neck. I have seen zebra killed in this fashion, but never any of thebuck. It may be possible that the lack of horns makes it more difficultto break a zebra's neck because of the corresponding lack of leveragewhen its head hits the ground sidewise; the instances I have noted mayhave been those in which the lion's spring landed too far back to throwthe victim properly; or perhaps they were merely examples of the greatvariability in the habits of felis leo. 

Once the kill is made, the lion disembowels the beast very neatlyindeed, and drags the entrails a few feet out of the way. He then eatswhat he wants, and, curiously enough, seems often to be very fond of theskin. In fact, lacking other evidence, it is occasionally possibleto identify a kill as being that of a lion by noticing whether anyconsiderable portion of the hide has been devoured. After eating hedrinks. Then he is likely to do one of two things: either he returnsto cover near the carcass and lies down, or he wanders slowly and withsatisfaction toward his happy home. In the latter case the hyenas, jackals, and carrion birds seize their chance. The astute hunter canoften diagnose the case by the general actions and demeanour of thesecamp followers. A half dozen sour and disgusted looking hyenas seatedon their haunches at scattered intervals, and treefuls of mournfullyhumpbacked vultures sunk in sadness, indicate that the lion has decidedto save the rest of his zebra until to-morrow and is not far away. On the other hand, a grand flapping, snarling Kilkenny-fair of anaggregation swirling about one spot in the grass means that theprincipal actor has gone home. 

It is ordinarily useless to expect to see the lion actually on his prey. The feeding is done before dawn, after which the lion enjoys stretchingout in the open until the sun is well up, and then retiring to thenearest available cover. Still, at the risk of seeming to be perpetuallyqualifying, I must instance finding three lions actually on the stalecarcass of a waterbuck at eleven o'clock in the morning of a pipinghot day! In an undisturbed country, or one not much hunted, the earlymorning hours up to say nine o'clock are quite likely to show you lionssauntering leisurely across the open plains toward their lairs. Theygo a little, stop a little, yawn, sit down a while, and gradually worktheir way home. At those times you come upon them unexpectedly face toface, or, seeing them from afar, ride them down in a glorious gallop. Where the country has been much hunted, however, the lion learns toabandon his kill and seek shelter before daylight, and is almost neverseen abroad. Then one must depend on happening upon him in his cover. 

In the actual hunting of his game the lion is apparently very clever. He understands the value of cooperation. Two or more will manoeuvrevery skilfully to give a third the chance to make an effective spring;whereupon the three will share the kill. In a rough country, orone otherwise favourable to the method, a pack of lions will oftendeliberately drive game into narrow ravines or cul de sacs where thekillers are waiting. 

At such times the man favoured by the chance of an encampment withinfive miles or so can hear a lion's roar. 

Otherwise I doubt if he is apt often to get the full-voiced, genuinearticle. The peculiar questioning cough of early evening is resonant anddeep in vibration, but it is a call rather than a roar. No lion is foolenough to make a noise when he is stalking. Then afterward, when fullfed, individuals may open up a few times, but only a few times, insheer satisfaction, apparently, at being well fed. The menagerie row atfeeding time, formidable as it sounds within the echoing walls, is onlya mild and gentle hint. But when seven or eight lions roar merely tosee how much noise they can make, as when driving game, or trying tostampede your oxen on a wagon trip, the effect is something tremendous. The very substance of the ground vibrates; the air shakes. I can onlycompare it to the effect of a very large deep organ in a very smallchurch. There is something genuinely awe-inspiring about it; and whenthe repeated volleys rumble into silence, one can imagine the veldtcrouched in a rigid terror that shall endure. 

XI. LIONS AGAIN

As to the dangers of lion hunting it is also difficult to write. Thereis no question that a cool man, using good judgment as to just whathe can or cannot do, should be able to cope with lion situations. Themodern rifle is capable of stopping the beast, provided the bullet goesto the right spot. The right spot is large enough to be easy to hit, ifthe shooter keeps cool. Our definition of a cool man must comprise theelements of steady nerves under super-excitement, the ability to thinkquickly and clearly, and the mildly strategic quality of being able tomake the best use of awkward circumstances. Such a man, barring sheeraccidents, should be able to hunt lions with absolute certainty forjust as long as he does not get careless, slipshod or over-confident. Accidents-real accidents, not merely unexpected happenings-are hardly tobe counted. They can occur in your own house. 

But to the man not temperamentally qualified, lion shooting is dangerousenough. The lion, when he takes the offensive, intends to get hisantagonist. Having made up his mind to that, he charges home, generallyat great speed. The realization that it is the man's life or the beast'sis disconcerting. Also the charging lion is a spectacle much moreawe-inspiring in reality than the most vivid imagination can predict. He looks very large, very determined, and has uttered certain rumbling, blood-curdling threats as to what he is going to do about it. Itsuddenly seems most undesirable to allow that lion to come any closer, not even an inch! A hasty, nervous shot misses--

An unwounded lion charging from a distance is said to start ratherslowly, and to increase his pace only as he closes. Personally I havenever been charged by an unwounded beast, but I can testify that thewounded animal comes very fast. Cuninghame puts the rate at about sevenseconds to the hundred yards. Certainly I should say that a man chargedfrom fifty yards or so would have little chance for a second shot, provided he missed the first. A hit seemed, in my experience, to theanimal, by sheer force of impact, long enough to permit me to throw inanother cartridge. A lioness thus took four frontal bullets starting atabout sixty yards. An initial miss would probably have permitted her toclose. 

Here, as can be seen, is a great source of danger to a flurried ornervous beginner. He does not want that lion to get an inch nearer; hefires at too long a range, misses, and is killed or mauled before he canreload. This happened precisely so to two young friends of MacMillan. They were armed with double-rifles, let them off hastily as the beaststarted at them from two hundred yards, and never got another chance. Ifthey had possessed the experience to have waited until the lion hadcome within fifty yards they would have had the almost certainty offour barrels at close range. Though I have seen a lion missed clean wellinside those limits. 

From such performances are so-called lion accidents built. During mystay in Africa I heard of six white men being killed by lions, and anumber of others mauled. As far as possible I tried to determine thefacts of each case. In every instance the trouble followed eitherfoolishness or loss of nerve. I believe I should be quite safe insaying that from identically the same circumstances any of the good lionmen-Tarleton, Lord Delamere, the Hills, and others-would have extricatedthemselves unharmed. 

This does not mean that accidents may not happen. Rifles jam, butgenerally because of flurried manipulation! One may unexpectedly meetthe lion at too close quarters; a foot may slip, or a cartridge provedefective. So may one fall downstairs or bump one's head in the dark. Sufficient forethought and alertness and readiness would go far ineither case to prevent bad results. 

The wounded beast, of course, offers the most interesting problem to thelion hunter. If it sees the hunter, it is likely to charge him at once. If hit while making off, however, it is more apt to take cover. Then onemust summon all his good sense and nerve to get it out. No rules can begiven for this; nor am I trying to write a text book for lion hunters. Any good lion hunter knows a lot more about it than I do. But alwaysa man must keep in mind three things: that a lion can hide in cover soshort that it seems to the novice as though a jack-rabbit would findscant concealment there; that he charges like lightning, and that hecan spring about fifteen feet. This spring, coming unexpectedly from anunseen beast, is about impossible to avoid. Sheer luck may land a fatalshot; but even then the lion will probably do his damage before he dies. The rush from a short distance a good quick shot ought to be able tocope with. 

Therefore the wise hunter assures himself of at least twentyfeet-preferably more-of neutral zone all about him. No matter how longit takes, he determines absolutely that the lion is not within thatdistance. The rest is alertness and quickness. 

As I have said, the amount of cover necessary to conceal a lion isastonishingly small. He can flatten himself out surprisingly; andhis tawny colour blends so well with the brown grasses that he ispractically invisible. A practised man does not, of course, look forlions at all. He is after unusual small patches, especially the blackear tips or the black of the mane. Once guessed at, it is interesting tosee how quickly the hitherto unsuspected animal sketches itself out inthe cover. 

I should, before passing on to another aspect of the matter, mention thedangerous poisons carried by the lion's claws. Often men have diedfrom the most trivial surface wounds. The grooves of the claws carryputrefying meat from the kills. Every sensible man in a lion countrycarries a small syringe, and either permanganate or carbolic. And thosemild little remedies he uses full strength!

The great and overwhelming advantage is of course with the hunter. Hepossesses as deadly a weapon: and that weapon will kill at a distance. This is proper, I think. There are more lions than hunters; and, fromour point of view, the man is more important than the beast. The game isnot too hazardous. By that I mean that, barring sheer accident, a man issure to come out all right provided he does accurately the right thing. In other words, it is a dangerous game of skill, but it does not possessthe blind danger of a forest in a hurricane, say. Furthermore, it is agame that no man need play unless he wants to. In the lion country hemay go about his business-daytime business-as though he were home at thefarm. 

Such being the case, may I be pardoned for intruding one of my own smallethical ideas at this point, with the full realization that it dependsupon an entirely personal point of view. As far as my own case goes, I consider it poor sportsmanship ever to refuse a lion-chance merelybecause the advantages are not all in my favour. After all, lion huntingis on a different plane from ordinary shooting: it is a challenge towar, a deliberate seeking for mortal combat. Is it not just a littleshameful to pot old felis leo at long range, in the open, near his kill, and wherever we have him at an advantage-nine times, and then to backout because that advantage is for once not so marked? I have so oftenheard the phrase, "I let him (or them) alone. It was not good enough, "meaning that the game looked a little risky. 

Do not misunderstand. I am not advising that you bull ahead into thelong grass, or that alone you open fire on a half dozen lions in easyrange. Kind providence endowed you with strategy, and certainly youshould never go in where there is no show for you to use your weaponeffectively. But occasionally the odds will be against you and you willbe called upon to take more or less of a chance. I do not think it isquite square to quit playing merely because for once your opponent hasbeen dealt the better cards. If here are too many of them see if youcannot manoeuvre them; if the grass is long, try every means in yourpower to get them out. Stay with them. If finally you fail, you willat least have the satisfaction of knowing that circumstances alone havedefeated you. If you do not like that sort of a game, stay out of itentirely. 

XII. MORE LIONS

Nor do the last remarks of the preceding chapter mean that you shall nothave your trophy in peace. Perhaps excitement and a slight doubt asto whether or not you are going to survive do not appeal to you; butnevertheless you would like a lion skin or so. By all means shoot onelion, or two, or three in the safest fashion you can. But after that youought to play the game. 

The surest way to get a lion is to kill a zebra, cut holes in him, fillthe holes with strychnine, and come back next morning. This method isabsolutely safe. 

The next safest way is to follow the quarry with a pack of especiallytrained dogs. The lion is so busy and nervous over those dogs that youcan walk up and shoot him in the ear. This method has the excitement ofriding and following, the joy of a grand and noisy row, and the fun ofseeing a good dog-fight. The same effect can be got chasing wart-hogs, hyenas, jackals-or jack-rabbits. The objection is that it wastes anoble beast in an inferior game. My personal opinion is that no man isjustified in following with dogs any large animal that can be capturedwith reasonable certainty without them. The sport of coursing is anothermatter; but that is quite the same in essence whatever the size of thequarry. If you want to kill a lion or so quite safely, and at the sametime enjoy a glorious and exciting gallop with lots of accompanying row, by all means follow the sport with hounds. But having killed one or twoby that method, quit. Do not go on and clean up the country. You can doit. Poison and hounds are the SURE methods of finding any lion there maybe about; and AFTER THE FIRST FEW, one is about as justifiable as theother. If you want the undoubtedly great joy of cross country pursuit, send your hounds in after less noble game. 

The third safe method of killing a lion is nocturnal. You lay out a killbeneath a tree, and climb the tree. Or better, you hitch out a pig ordonkey as live bait. When the lion comes to this free lunch, you try tosee him; and, if you succeed in that, you try to shoot him. It is noteasy to shoot at night; nor is it easy to see in the dark. Furthermore, lions only occasionally bother to come to bait. You may roost up thattree many nights before you get a chance. Once up, you have to stay up;for it is most decidedly not safe to go home after dark. The tropicalnight in the highlands is quite chilly. Branches seem to be quite ascramping and abrasive under the equator as in the temperate zones. Still, it is one method. 

Another is to lay out a kill and visit it in the early morning. There ismore to this, for you are afoot, must generally search out your beastin nearby cover, and can easily find any amount of excitement in theprocess. 

The fourth way is to ride the lion. The hunter sees his quarry returninghome across the plains, perhaps; or jumps it from some small bushyravine. At once he spurs his horse in pursuit. The lion will run but ashort distance before coming to a stop, for he is not particularly longeither of wind or of patience. From this stand he almost invariablycharges. The astute hunter, still mounted, turns and flees. When thelion gets tired of chasing, which he does in a very short time, thehunter faces about. At last the lion sits down in the grass, waiting forthe game to develop. This is the time for the hunter to dismount and totake his shot. Quite likely he must now stand a charge afoot, and drophis beast before it gets to him. 

This is real fun. It has many elements of safety, and many of danger. 

To begin with, the hunter at this game generally has companions to backhim: often he employs mounted Somalis to round the lion up and get itto stand. The charging lion is quite apt to make for the conspicuousmounted men-who can easily escape-ignoring the hunter afoot. As the gameis largely played in the open, the movements of the beast are easilyfollowed. 

On the other hand, there is room for mistake. The hunter, for example, should never follow directly in the rear of his lion, but rather at aparallel course off the beast's flank. Then, if the lion stops suddenly, the man does not overrun before he can check his mount. He should neverdismount nearer than a hundred and fifty yards from the embayedanimal; and should never try to get off while the lion is moving inhis direction. Then, too, a hard gallop is not conducive to the best ofshooting. It is difficult to hold the front bead steady; and it is stillmore difficult to remember to wait, once the lion charges, until he hascome near enough for a sure shot. A neglect in the inevitable excitementof the moment to remember these and a dozen other small matters mayquite possibly cause trouble. 

Two or three men together can make this one of the most exciting mountedgames on earth; with enough of the give and take of real danger andbattle to make it worth while. The hunter, however, who employs a dozenSomalis to ride the beast to a standstill, after which he goes tothe front, has eliminated much of the thrill. Nor need that man'sstay-at-home family feel any excessive uneasiness over Father KillingLions in Africa. 

The method that interested me more than any other is one exceedinglydifficult to follow except under favourable circumstances. I refer totracking them down afoot. This requires that your gunbearer should bean expert trailer, for, outside the fact that following a soft-paddedanimal over all sorts of ground is a very difficult thing to do, thehunter should be free to spy ahead. It is necessary also to possess muchpatience and to endure under many disappointments. But on the otherhand there is in this sport a continuous keen thrill to be enjoyed in noother; and he who single handed tracks down and kills his lion thus, haswell earned the title of shikari-the Hunter. 

And the last method of all is to trust to the God of Chance. The secretof success is to be always ready to take instant advantage of what themoment offers. 

An occasional hunting story is good in itself: and the following willalso serve to illustrate what I have just been saying. 

We were after that prize, the greater kudu, and in his pursuit hadpenetrated into some very rough country. Our hunting for the time beingwas over broad bench, perhaps four or five miles wide, below a rangeof mountains. The bench itself broke down in sheer cliffs some fifteenhundred feet, but one did not appreciate that fact unless he stoodfairly on the edge of the precipice. To all intents and purposes wewere on a rolling grassy plain, with low hills and cliffs, and a mostbeautiful little stream running down it beneath fine trees. 

Up to now our hunting had gained us little beside information: that kuduhad occasionally visited the region, that they had not been there for amonth, and that the direction of their departure had been obscure. So weworked our way down the stream, trying out the possibilities. Of othergame there seemed to be a fair supply: impalla, hartebeeste, zebra, eland, buffalo, wart-hog, sing-sing, and giraffe we had seen. I hadsecured a wonderful eland and a very fine impalla, and we had had agorgeous close-quarters fight with a cheetah. * Now C. Had gone out, athree weeks' journey, carrying to medical attendance a porter injured inthe cheetah fracas. Billy and I were continuing the hunt alone. 

 * This animal quite disproved the assertion that cheetahs never assume the aggressive. He charged repeatedly. 

We had marched two hours, and were pitching camp under a single treenear the edge of the bench. After seeing everything well under way, Itook the Springfield and crossed the stream, which here ran in a deepcanyon. My object was to see if I could get a sing-sing that had boundedaway at our approach. I did not bother to take a gunbearer, because Idid not expect to be gone five minutes. 

The canyon proved unexpectedly deep and rough, and the stream up to mywaist. When I had gained the top, I found grass growing patchily fromsix inches to two feet high; and small, scrubby trees from four to tenfeet tall, spaced regularly, but very scattered. These little treeshardly formed cover, but their aggregation at sufficient distancelimited the view. 

The sing-sing had evidently found his way over the edge of the bench. Iturned to go back to camp. A duiker-a small grass antelope-broke from alittle patch of the taller grass, rushed, head down headlong after theirfashion, suddenly changed his mind, and dashed back again. I steppedforward to see why he had changed his mind-and ran into two lions!

They were about thirty yards away, and sat there on their haunches, sideby side, staring at me with expressionless yellow eyes. I stared back. The Springfield is a good little gun, and three times before I had beenforced to shoot lions with it, but my real "lion gun" with which I haddone best work was the 405 Winchester. The Springfield is too lightfor such game. Also there were two lions, very close. Also I was quitealone. 

As the game stood, it hardly looked like my move; so I held still andwaited. Presently one yawned, they looked at each other, turned quiteleisurely, and began to move away at a walk. 

This was a different matter. If I had fired while the two were facingme, I should probably have had them both to deal with. But now thattheir tails were turned toward me, I should very likely have to do withonly the one: at the crack of the rifle the other would run the way hewas headed. So I took a careful bead at the lioness and let drive. 

My aim was to cripple the pelvic bone, but, unfortunately, just as Ifired, the beast wriggled lithely sidewise to pass around a tuft ofgrass, so that the bullet inflicted merely a slight flesh wound onthe rump. She whirled like a flash, and as she raised her head high tolocate me, I had time to wish that the Springfield hit a trifle harderblow. Also I had time to throw another cartridge in the barrel. 

The moment she saw me she dropped her head and charged. She wasthoroughly angry and came very fast. I had just enough time to steadythe gold bead on her chest and to pull trigger. 

At the shot, to my great relief, she turned bottom up, and I saw hertail for an instant above the grass-an almost sure indication of a badhit. She thrashed around, and made a tremendous hullabaloo of snarls andgrowls. I backed out slowly, my rifle ready. It was no place for me, forthe grass was over knee high. 

Once at a safe distance I blazed a tree with my hunting knife anddeparted for camp, well pleased to be out of it. At camp I ate lunch andhad a smoke; then with Memba Sasa and Mavrouki returned to the sceneof trouble. I had now the 405 Winchester, a light and handy weapondelivering a tremendous blow. 

We found the place readily enough. My lioness had recovered from thefirst shock and had gone. I was very glad I had gone first. 

The trail was not very plain, but it could be followed a foot or so at atime, with many faults and casts back. I walked a yard to one side whilethe men followed the spoor. Owing to the abundance of cover it wasvery nervous work, for the beast might be almost anywhere, and wouldcertainly charge. We tried to keep a neutral zone around ourselves bytossing stones ahead of and on both sides of our line of advance. My ownposition was not bad, for I had the rifle ready in my hand, but the menwere in danger. Of course I was protecting them as well as I could, butthere was always a chance that the lioness might spring on them in sucha manner that I would be unable to use my weapon. Once I suggested thatas the work was dangerous, they could quit if they wanted to. 

"Hapana!" they both refused indignantly. 

We had proceeded thus for half a mile when to our relief, right ahead ofus, sounded the commanding, rumbling half-roar, half-growl of the lionat bay. 

Instantly Memba Sasa and Mavrouki dropped back to me. We all peeredahead. One of the boys made her out first, crouched under a bushthirty-two yards away. Even as I raised the rifle she saw us andcharged. I caught her in the chest before she had come ten feet. Theheavy bullet stopped her dead. Then she recovered and started forwardslowly, very weak, but game to the last. Another shot finished her. 

The remarkable point of this incident was the action of the littleSpringfield bullet. Evidently the very high velocity of this bulletfrom its shock to the nervous system had delivered a paralyzing blowsufficient to knock out the lioness for the time being. Its damage totissue, however, was slight. Inasmuch as the initial shock did not causeimmediate death, the lioness recovered sufficiently to be able, twohours later, to take the offensive. This point is of the greatestinterest to the student of ballistics; but it is curious to even theordinary reader. 

That is a very typical example of finding lions by sheer chance. Generally a man is out looking for the smallest kind of game when heruns up against them. Now happened to follow an equally typical exampleof tracking. 

The next day after the killing of the lioness Memba Sasa, Kongoni and Idropped off the bench, and hunted greater kudu on a series of terracesfifteen hundred feet below. All we found were two rhino, some sing-sing, a heard of impalla, and a tremendous thirst. In the meantime, Mavroukihad, under orders, scouted the foothills of the mountain range at theback. He reported none but old tracks of kudu, but said he had seeneight lions not far from our encounter of the day before. 

Therefore, as soon next morning as we could see plainly, we againcrossed the canyon and the waist-deep stream. I had with me all three ofthe gun men, and in addition two of the most courageous porters to helpwith the tracking and the looking. 

About eight o'clock we found the first fresh pad mark plainly outlinedin an isolated piece of soft earth. Immediately we began that mostfascinating of games-trailing over difficult ground. In this we couldall take part, for the tracks were some hours old, and the cover scanty. Very rarely could we make out more than three successive marks. Then wehad to spy carefully for the slightest indication of direction. Kongoniin especial was wonderful at this, and time and again picked up a brokengrass blade or the minutest inch-fraction of disturbed earth. We movedslowly, in long hesitations and castings about, and in swift littledashes forward of a few feet; and often we went astray on false scents, only to return finally to the last certain spot. In this manner wecrossed the little plain with the scattered shrub trees and arrived atthe edge of the low bluff above the stream bottom. 

This bottom was well wooded along the immediate bank of the streamitself, fringed with low thick brush, and in the open spaces grown tothe edges with high, green, coarse grass. 

As soon as we had managed to follow without fault to this grass, ourdifficulties of trailing were at an end. The lions' heavy bodieshad made distinct paths through the tangle. These paths went forwardsinuously, sometimes separating one from the other, sometimesintertwining, sometimes combining into one for a short distance. Wecould not determine accurately the number of beasts that had made them. 

"They have gone to drink water, " said Memba Sasa. 

We slipped along the twisting paths, alert for indications; came to theedge of the thicket, stooped through the fringe, and descended to thestream under the tall trees. The soft earth at the water's edge wascovered with tracks, thickly overlaid one over the other. The boys feltof the earth, examined, even smelled, and came to the conclusion thatthe beasts must have watered about five o'clock. If so, they might beten miles away, or as many rods. 

We had difficulty in determining just where the party left this place, until finally Kongoni caught sight of suspicious indications over theway. The lions had crossed the stream. We did likewise, followed thetrail out of the thicket, into the grass, below the little cliffsparallel to the stream, back into the thicket, across the river oncemore, up the other side, in the thicket for a quarter mile, then outinto the grass on that side, and so on. They were evidently wandering, rather idly, up the general course of the stream. Certainly, unlike mostcats, they did not mind getting their feet wet, for they crossed thestream four times. 

At last the twining paths in the shoulder-high grass fanned outseparately. We counted. 

"You were right, Mavrouki, " said I, "there were eight. "

At the end of each path was a beaten-down little space where evidentlythe beasts had been lying down. With an exclamation the three gunbearersdarted forward to investigate. The lairs were still warm! Theiroccupants had evidently made off only at our approach!

Not five minutes later we were halted by a low warning growl rightahead. We stopped. The boys squatted on their heels close to me, and weconsulted in whispers. 

Of course it would be sheer madness to attack eight lions in grassso high we could not see five feet in front of us. That went withoutsaying. On the other hand, Mavrouki swore that he had yesterday seen nosmall cubs with the band, and our examination of the tracks made in softearth seemed to bear him out. The chances were therefore that, unlessthemselves attacked or too close pressed, the lions would not attack us. By keeping just in their rear we might be able to urge them gently alonguntil they should enter more open cover. Then we could see. 

Therefore we gave the owner of that growl about five minutes to forgetit, and then advanced very cautiously. We soon found where the objectorhad halted, and plainly read by the indications where he had stood for amoment or so, and then moved on. We slipped along after. 

For five hours we hung at the heels of that band of lions, moving veryslowly, perfectly willing to halt whenever they told us to, and goingforward again only when we became convinced that they too had gone on. Except for the first half hour, we were never more than twenty or thirtyyards from the nearest lion, and often much closer. Three or fourtimes I saw slowly gliding yellow bodies just ahead of me, but in thecircumstances it would have been sheer stark lunacy to have fired. Probably six or eight times-I did not count-we were commanded to stop, and we did stop. 

It was very exciting work, but the men never faltered. Of course I wentfirst, in case one of the beasts had the toothache or otherwise didnot play up to our calculations on good nature. One or the other of thegunbearers was always just behind me. Only once was any comment made. Kongoni looked very closely into my face. 

"There are very many lions, " he remarked doubtfully. 

"Very many lions, " I agreed, as though assenting to a mere statement offact. 

Although I am convinced there was no real danger, as long as we stuck toour plan of campaign, nevertheless it was quite interesting to be for solong a period so near these great brutes. They led us for a mile or soalong the course of the stream, sometimes on one side, sometimes on theother. Several times they emerged into better cover, and even into theopen, but always ducked back into the thick again before we ourselveshad followed their trail to the clear. 

At noon we were halted by the usual growl just as we had reached theedge of the river. So we sat down on the banks and had lunch. 

Finally our chance came. The trail led us, for the dozenth time, fromthe high grass into the thicket along the river. We ducked our headsto enter. Memba Sasa, next my shoulder, snapped his fingers violently. Following the direction of the brown arm that shot over my shoulder, Istrained my eyes into the dimness of the thicket. At first I could seenothing at all, but at length a slight motion drew my eye. Then I madeout the silhouette of a lion's head, facing us steadily. One of therear guard had again turned to halt us, but this time where he and hissurroundings could be seen. 

Luckily I always use a Sheard gold bead sight, and even in the dimnessof the tree-shaded thicket it showed up well. The beast was only fortyyards away, so I fired at his head. He rolled over without a sound. 

We took the usual great precautions in determining the genuineness ofhis demise, then carried him into the open. Strangely enough the bullethad gone so cleanly into his left eye that it had not even broken theedge of the eyelid; so that when skinned he did not show a mark. He wasa very decent maned lion, three feet four inches at the shoulder, andnine feet long as he lay. We found that he had indeed been the rearguard, and that the rest, on the other side of the thicket, had made offat the shot. So in spite of the APPARENT danger of the situation, ourcalculations had worked out perfectly. Also we had enjoyed a half day'ssport of an intensity quite impossible to be extracted from any othermethod of following the lion. 

In trying to guess how any particular lions may act, however, you willfind yourself often at fault. The lion is a very intelligent and craftybeast, and addicted to tricks. If you follow a lion to a small hill, it is well to go around that hill on the side opposite to that taken byyour quarry. You are quite likely to meet him for he is clever enoughthus to try to get in your rear. He will lie until you have actuallypassed him before breaking off. He will circle ahead, then back toconfuse his trail. And when you catch sight of him in the distance, youwould never suspect that he knew of your presence at all. He sauntersslowly, apparently aimlessly, along pausing often, evidently too boredto take any interest in life. You wait quite breathlessly for him topass behind cover. Then you are going to make a very rapid advance, andcatch his leisurely retreat. But the moment old Leo does pass behind thecover, his appearance of idle stroller vanishes. In a dozen bounds he isgone. 

That is what makes lion hunting delightful. There are some regions, very near settlements, where it is perhaps justifiable to poison thesebeasts. If you are a true sportsman you will confine your hound-huntingto those districts. Elsewhere, as far as playing fair with a noblebeast is concerned, you may as well toss a coin to see which you shalltake-your pack or a strychnine bottle. 

XIII. ON THE MANAGING OF A SAFARI

We made our way slowly down the river. As the elevation dropped, thetemperature rose. It was very hot indeed during the day, and in theevening the air was tepid and caressing, and musical with the hum ofinsects. We sat about quite comfortably in our pajamas, and took ourfifteen grains of quinine per week against the fever. 

The character of the jungle along the river changed imperceptibly, thedhum palms crowding out the other trees; until, at our last camp, werenothing but palms. The wind in them sounded variously like the patteror the gathering onrush of rain. On either side the country remainedunchanged, however. The volcanic hills rolled away to the distantranges. Everywhere grew sparsely the low thornbrush, opening sometimesinto clear plains, closing sometimes into dense thickets. One morningwe awoke to find that many supposedly sober-minded trees had burst intoblossom fairly over night. They were red, and yellow and white thatbefore were green, a truly gorgeous sight. 

Then we turned sharp to the right and began to ascend a little tributarybrook coming down the wide flats from a cleft in the hills. This wasprettily named the Isiola, and, after the first mile or so, was notbig enough to afford the luxury of a jungle of its own. Its banks weregenerally grassy and steep, its thickets few, and its little treesisolated in parklike spaces. To either side of it, and almost at itslevel, stretched plains, but plains grown with scattered brush andshrubs so that at a mile or two one's vista was closed. But for all itsscant ten feet of width the Isiola stood upon its dignity as a stream. We discovered that when we tried to cross. The men floundered waist-deepon uncertain bottom; the syces received much unsympathetic commentfor their handling of the animals, and we had to get Billy over by amelodramatic "bridge of life" with B. , F. , myself, and Memba Sasa in thetitle roles. 

Then we pitched camp in the open on the other side, sent the horses backfrom the stream until after dark, in fear of the deadly tsetse fly, andprepared to enjoy a good exploration of the neighbourhood. WhereuponM'ganga rose up to his gaunt and terrific height of authority, stretchedforth his bony arm at right angles, and uttered between eight and ninethousand commands in a high dynamic monotone without a single pause forbreath. These, supplemented by about as many more, resulted in (a) abridge across the stream, and (b) a banda. 

A banda is a delightful African institution. It springs from nothing inabout two hours, but it takes twenty boys with a vitriolic M'ganga backof them to bring it about. Some of them carry huge backloads of grass, or papyrus, or cat-tail rushes, as the case may be; others lug in polesof various lengths from where their comrades are cutting them by meansof their panga. A panga, parenthetically, is the safari man's substitutefor axe, shovel, pick, knife, sickle, lawn-mower, hammer, gatlinggun, world's library of classics, higher mathematics, grand opera, andtoothpicks. It looks rather like a machete with a very broad end anda slight curved back. A good man can do extraordinary things withit. Indeed, at this moment, two boys are with this apparently clumsyimplement delicately peeling some of the small thorn trees, from thebared trunks of which they are stripping long bands of tough inner bark. 

With these three raw materials-poles, withes, and grass-M'ganga andhis men set to work. They planted their corner and end poles, they laidtheir rafters, they completed their framework, binding all with thetough withes; then deftly they thatched it with the grass. Almost beforewe had settled our own affairs, M'ganga was standing before us smiling. Gone now was his mien of high indignation and swirling energy. 

"Banda naquisha, " he informed us. 

And we moved in our table and our canvas chairs; hung up our waterbottles; Billy got out her fancy work. Nothing could be pleasanternor more appropriate to the climate than this wide low arbour, open ateither end to the breezes, thatched so thickly that the fierce sun couldnowhere strike through. 

The men had now settled down to a knowledge of what we were like; andthings were going smoothly. At first the African porter will try it onto see just how easy you are likely to prove. If he makes up his mindthat you really are easy, then you are in for infinite petty annoyance, and possibly open mutiny. Therefore, for a little while, it is necessaryto be extremely vigilant, to insist on minute performance in allcircumstances where later you might condone an omission. For the samereason punishment must be more frequent and more severe at the outset. It is all a matter of watching the temper of the men. If they arecheerful and willing, you are not nearly as particular as you wouldbe were their spirit becoming sullen. Then the infraction is not soimportant in itself as an excuse for the punishment. For when your menget sulky, you watch vigilantly for the first and faintest EXCUSE toinflict punishment. 

This game always seemed to me very fascinating, when played right. It isoften played wrong. People do not look far enough. Because they seethat punishment has a most salutary effect on morale, and is sometimesefficacious in getting things done that otherwise would lag, they jumpto the conclusion that the only effective way to handle a safari isby penalties. By this I do not at all mean that they act savagely, orpunish to brutal excess. Merely they hold rigidly to the letter of thework and the day's discipline. Because it is sometimes necessaryto punish severely slight infractions when the men's tempers needsweetening, they ALWAYS punish slight infractions severely. 

And in ordinary circumstances this method undoubtedly results in a veryefficient safari. Things are done smartly, on time, with a snap. Theday's march begins without delay; there is a minimum of straggling; onarrival the tents are immediately got up and the wood and water fetched. But in a tight place, men so handled by invariable rule are very aptto sit down apathetically, and put the whole thing up to the white man. When it comes time to help out they are not there. The contrast with awell-disposed safari cannot be appreciated by one who has not seen both. 

The safari-man loves a master. He does not for a moment understand anywell-meant but misplaced efforts on your part to lighten his work belowthe requirements of custom. Always he will beg you to ease up on him, to accord him favour; and always he will despise you if you yield. Therelations of man to man, of man to work, are all long since establishedby immemorial distauri-custom-and it is not for you or him to changethem lightly. If you know what he should or can do, and hold him rigidlyto it, he will respect and follow you. 

But in order to keep him up to the mark, it is not always advisable tolight into him with a whip, necessary as the whip often is. If heis sullen, or inclined to make mischief, then that is the cryingrequirement. But if he is merely careless, or a little slow, or tired, you can handle him in other ways. Ridicule before his comrades is veryeffective: a sort of good-natured guying, I mean. "Ah! very tired!"uttered in the right tone of voice has brought many a loiterer to hisfeet as effectively as the kick some men feel must always be bestowed, and quite without anger, mind you! For days at a time we have kept ourmen travelling at good speed by commenting, as though by the way, afterwe had arrived in camp, on which tribe happened to come in at the head. 

"Ah! Kavirondos came in first to-night, " we would remark. "Last nightthe Monumwezis were ahead. "

And once, actually, by this method we succeeded in working up such afeeling of rivalry that the Kikuyus, the unambitious, weak and despisedKikuyus, led the van!

But the first hint of insubordination, of intended insolence, of willfulshirking must be met by instant authority. Occasionally, when thesituation is of the quick and sharp variety, the white man may have tomix in the row himself. He must never hesitate an instant; for the onlyreason he alone can control so many is that he has always controlledthem. F. Had a very effective blow, or shove, which I found well worthadopting. It is delivered with the heel of the palm to the man's chin, and is more of a lifting, heaving shove than an actual blow. Its effectis immediately upsetting. Impertinence is best dealt with in this manneron the spot. Evidently intended slowness in coming when called is alsobest treated by a flick of the whip-and forgetfulness. And so with ahalf dozen others. But any more serious matter should be decided fromthe throne of the canvas chair, witness should be heard, judgmentformally pronounced, and execution intrusted to the askaris orgunbearers. 

It is, as I have said, a most interesting game. It demands three sortsof knowledge: first what a safari man is capable of doing; second, whathe customarily should or should not do; third, an ability to read theactual intention or motive back of his actions. When you are able topunish or hold your hand on these principles, and not merely becausethings have or have not gone smoothly or right, then you are a goodsafari manager. There are mighty few of them. 

As for punishment, that is quite simply the whip. The average writeron the country speaks of this with hushed voice and averted face as anecessity but as something to be deprecated and passed over as quicklyas possible. He does this because he thinks he ought to. As a matter offact, such an attitude is all poppycock. In the flogging of a white man, or a black who suffers from such a punishment in his soul as well as hisbody, this is all very well. But the safari man expects it, itdoesn't hurt his feelings in the least, it is ancient custom. As wellsentimentalize over necessary schoolboy punishment, or over fatherpaddy-whacking little Willie when little Willie has been a bad boy. Thechances are your porter will leap to his feet, crack his heels togetherand depart with a whoop of joy, grinning from ear to ear. Or he may drawhimself up and salute you, military fashion, again with a grin. In anycase his "soul" is not "scared" a little bit, and there is no sense inyourself feeling about it as though it were. 

At another slant the justice you will dispense to your men differs fromour own. Again this is because of the teaching long tradition has madepart of their mental make-up. Our own belief is that it is better to lettwo guilty men go than to punish one innocent. With natives it is theother way about. If a crime is committed the guilty MUST be punished. Preferably he alone is to be dealt with; but in case it is impossible toidentify him, then all the members of the first inclusive unit must bebrought to account. This is the native way of doing things; is the onlyway the native understands; and is the only way that in his mind truejustice is answered. Thus if a sheep is stolen, the thief must be caughtand punished. Suppose, however it is known to what family the thiefbelongs, but the family refuses to disclose which of its memberscommitted the theft: then each member must be punished for sheepstealing; or, if not the family, then the tribe must make restitution. But punishment MUST be inflicted. 

There is an essential justice to recommend this, outside the fact thatit has with the native all the solidity of accepted ethics, andit certainly helps to run the real criminal to earth. The innocentsometimes suffers innocently, but not very often; and our own recordsshow that in that respect with us it is the same. This is not the placeto argue the right or wrong of the matter from our own standpoint but torecognize the fact that it is right from theirs, and to act accordingly. Thus in cast of theft of meat, or something that cannot be traced, itis well to call up the witnesses, to prove the alibis, and then to placethe issue squarely up to those that remain. There may be but two, orthere may be a dozen. 

"I know you did not all steal the meat, " you must say, "but I know thatone of you did. Unless I know which one that is by to-morrow morning, Iwill kiboko all of you. Bass!"

Perhaps occasionally you may have to kiboko the lot, in the fullknowledge that most are innocent. That seems hard; and your heart willmisgive you. Harden it. The "innocent" probably know perfectly well whothe guilty man is. And the incident builds for the future. 

I had intended nowhere to comment on the politics or policies of thecountry. Nothing is more silly than the casual visitor's snap judgmentson how a country is run. Nevertheless, I may perhaps be pardoned forsuggesting that the Government would strengthen its hand, and aid itsfew straggling settlers by adopting this native view of retributions. For instance, at present it is absolutely impossible to identifyindividual sheep and cattle stealers. They operate stealthily and atnight. If the Government cannot identify the actual thief, it gives thematter up. As a consequence a great hardship is inflicted on the settlerand an evil increases. If, however, the Government would hold thevillage, the district, or the tribe responsible, and exact justcompensation from such units in every case, the evil would very suddenlycome to an end. And the native's respect for the white man would climbin the scale. 

Once the safari man gets confidence in his master, that confidence iscomplete. The white man's duties are in his mind clearly defined. Hisjob is to see that the black man is fed, is watered, is taken care ofin every way. The ordinary porter considers himself quite devoid ofresponsibility. He is also an improvident creature, for he drinks allhis water when he gets thirsty, no matter how long and hot the journeybefore him; he eats his rations all up when he happens to get hungry, two days before next distribution time; he straggles outrageously attimes and has to be rounded up; he works three months and, on a whim, deserts two days before the end of his journey, thus forfeiting all hiswages. Once two porters came to us for money. 

"What for?" asked C. 

"To buy a sheep, " said they. 

For two months we had been shooting them all the game meat they couldeat, but on this occasion two days had intervened since the last kill. If they had been on trading safari they would have had no meat at all. A sheep cost six rupees in that country, and they were getting but tenrupees a month as wages. In view of the circumstances, and for theirown good, we refused. Another man once insisted on purchasing a cakeof violet-scented soap for a rupee. Their chief idea of a wild time inNairobi, after return from a long safari, is to SIT IN A CHAIR and drinktea. For this they pay exorbitantly at the Somali so-called "hotels. "It is a strange sight. But then, I have seen cowboys off the range orlumberjacks from the river do equally extravagant and foolish things. 

On the other hand they carry their loads well, they march tremendously, they know their camp duties and they do them. Under adversecircumstances they are good-natured. I remember C. And I, being belatedand lost in a driving rain. We wandered until nearly midnight. The fouror five men with us were loaded heavily with the meat and trophy of aroan. Certainly they must have been very tired; for only occasionallycould we permit them to lay down their loads. Most of the time we wereactually groping, over boulders, volcanic rocks, fallen trees and allsorts of tribulation. The men took it as a huge joke, and at every pauselaughed consumedly. 

In making up a safari one tries to mix in four or five tribes. Thisprevents concerted action in case of trouble, for no one tribe will helpanother. They vary both in tribal and individual characteristics, ofcourse. For example, the Kikuyus are docile but mediocre porters; theKavirondos strong carriers but turbulent and difficult to handle. Youare very lucky if you happen on a camp jester, one of the sort thatsings, shouts, or jokes while on the march. He is probably not much as aporter, but he is worth his wages nevertheless. He may or may not aspireto his giddy eminence. We had one droll-faced little Kavirondo whosevery expression made one laugh, and whose rueful remarks on theharshness of his lot finally ended by being funny. His name got to be acatchword in camp. 

"Mualo! Mualo!" the men would cry, as they heaved their burdens to theirheads; and all day long their war cry would ring out, "Mualo!" followedby shrieks of laughter. 

Of the other type was Sulimani, a big, one-eyed Monumwezi, who had areally keen wit coupled with an earnest, solemn manner. This man was nobuffoon, however; and he was a good porter, always at or near the headof the procession. In the great jungle south of Kenia we came uponCuninghame. When the head of our safari reached the spot Sulimanileft the ranks and, his load still aloft danced solemnly in front ofCuninghame, chanting something in a loud tone of voice. Then with afinal deep "Jambo!" to his old master he rejoined the safari. Whenthe day had stretched to weariness and the men had fallen to a sullenplodding, Sulimani's vigorous song could always set the safari stickstapping the sides of the chop boxes. 

He carried part of the tent, and the next best men were entrusted withthe cook outfit and our personal effects. It was a point of honourwith these men to be the first in camp. The rear, the very extremeand straggling rear, was brought up by worthless porters with loads ofcornmeal-and the weary askaris whose duty it was to keep astern and herdthe lot in. 

XIV. A DAY ON THE ISIOLA

Early one morning-we were still on the Isiola-we set forth on our horsesto ride across the rolling, brush-grown plain. Our intention was toproceed at right angles to our own little stream until we had reachedthe forest growth of another, which we could dimly make out eight orten miles distant. Billy went with us, so there were four a-horseback. Behind us trudged the gunbearers, and the syces, and after themstraggled a dozen or fifteen porters. 

The sun was just up, and the air was only tepid as yet. From patches ofhigh grass whirred and rocketed grouse of two sorts. They were so muchlike our own ruffed grouse and prairie chicken that I could with noeffort imagine myself once more a boy in the coverts of the Middle West. Only before us we could see the stripes of trotting zebra disappearing;and catch the glint of light on the bayonets of the oryx. Two giraffesgalumphed away to the right. Little grass antelope darted from clumpto clump of grass. Once we saw gerenuk-oh, far away in an impossibledistance. Of course we tried to stalk them; and as usual we failed. Thegerenuk we had come to look upon as our Lesser Hoodoo. 

The beast is a gazelle about as big as a black-tailed deer. Hispeculiarity is his excessively long neck, a good deal on the giraffeorder. With it he crops browse above high tide mark of other animals, especially when as often happens he balances cleverly on his hind legs. By means of it also he can, with his body completely concealed, lookover the top of ordinary cover and see you long before you have madeout his inconspicuous little head. Then he departs. He seems to havea lamentable lack of healthy curiosity about you. In that respect heshould take lessons from the kongoni. After that you can follow him asfar as you please; you will get only glimpses at three or four hundredyards. 

We remounted sadly and rode on. The surface of the ground was rathersoft, scattered with round rocks the size of a man's head, and full ofpig holes. 

"Cheerful country to ride over at speed, " remarked Billy. Later in theday we had occasion to remember that statement. 

The plains led us ever on. First would be a band of scattered brushgrowing singly and in small clumps: then a little open prairie; thena narrow, long grass swale; then perhaps a low, long hill with smallsingle trees and rough, volcanic footing. Ten thousand things kept usinterested. Game was everywhere, feeding singly, in groups, in herds, game of all sizes and descriptions. The rounded ears of jackals pointedat us from the grass. Hundreds of birds balanced or fluttered about us, birds of all sizes from the big ground hornbill to the littlest hummersand sun birds. Overhead, across the wonderful variegated sky of Africathe broad-winged carrion hunters and birds of prey wheeled. In all ourstay on the Isiola we had not seen a single rhino track, so we rodequite care free and happy. 

Finally, across a glade, not over a hundred and fifty yards away, wesaw a solitary bull oryx standing under a bush. B. Wanted an oryx. Wediscussed this one idly. He looked to be a decent oryx, but nothingespecial. However, he offered a very good shot; so B. , after somehesitation, decided to take it. It proved to be by far the best specimenwe shot, the horns measuring thirty-six and three fourths inches! Almostimmediately after, two of the rather rare striped hyenas leaped from thegrass and departed rapidly over the top of a hill. We opened fire, andF. Dropped one of them. By the time these trophies were prepared, thesun had mounted high in the heavens, and it was getting hot. 

Accordingly we abandoned that still distant river and swung away in awide circle to return to camp. 

Several minor adventures brought us to high noon and the heat of theday. B. Had succeeded in drawing a prize, one of the Grevy's or mountainzebra. He and the gunbearers engaged themselves with that, while we satunder the rather scanty shade of a small thorn tree and had lunch. Here we had a favourable chance to observe that very common, but alwayswonderful phenomenon, the gathering of the carrion birds. Within fiveminutes after the stoop of the first vulture above the carcass, the skyimmediately over that one spot was fairly darkened with them. They wereas thick as midges-or as ducks used to be in California. All sizes werethere from the little carrion crows to the great dignified vultures andmarabouts and eagles. The small fry flopped and scolded, and rose andfell in a dense mass; the marabouts walked with dignified pace to andfro through the grass all about. As far as the eye could penetrate theblue, it could make out more and yet more of the great soarers stoopingwith half bent wings. Below we could see uncertainly through the shimmerof the mirage the bent forms of the men. 

We ate and waited; and after a little we dozed. I was awakened suddenlyby a tremendous rushing roar, like the sound of a not too distantwaterfall. The group of men were plodding toward us carrying burdens. And like plummets the birds were dropping straight down from theheavens, spreading wide their wings at the last moment to check theirspeed. This made the roaring sound that had awakened me. 

A wide spot in the shimmer showed black and struggling against theground. I arose and walked over, meeting halfway B. And the men carryingthe meat. It took me probably about two minutes to reach the place wherethe zebra had been killed. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of the greatbirds were standing idly about; a dozen or so were flapping andscrambling in the centre. I stepped into view. With a mighty commotionthey all took wing clumsily, awkwardly, reluctantly. A trampled, bloodyspace and the larger bones, picked absolutely clean, was all thatremained! In less than two minutes the job had been done!

"You're certainly good workmen!" I exclaimed, "but I wonder how you allmake a living!"

We started the men on to camp with the meat, and ourselves restedunder the shade. The day had been a full and interesting one; but weconsidered it as finished. Remained only the hot journey back to camp. 

After a half hour we mounted again and rode on slowly. The sun was verystrong and a heavy shimmer clothed the plain. Through this shimmer wecaught sight of something large and black and flapping. It looked like acrow-or, better, a scare-crow-crippled, half flying, half running, withwaving wings or arms, now dwindling, now gigantic as the mirage caughtit up or let it drop. As we watched, it developed, and we made it outto be a porter, clad in a long, ragged black overcoat, running zigzagthrough the bushes in our direction. 

The moment we identified it we spurred our horses forward. As my horseleaped, Memba Sasa snatched the Springfield from my left hand and forcedthe 405 Winchester upon me. Clever Memba Sasa! He no more than we knewwhat was up, but shrewdly concluded that whatever it was it needed aheavy gun. 

As we galloped to meet him, the porter stopped. We saw him to be a verylong-legged, raggedy youth whom we had nicknamed the Marabout because ofhis exceedingly long, lean legs, the fact that his breeches were white, short and baggy, and because he kept his entire head shaved close. Hecalled himself Fundi, which means The Expert, a sufficient indication ofhis confidence in himself. 

He awaited us leaning on his safari stick, panting heavily, the sweatrunning off his face in splashes. "Simba!"* said he, and immediatelyset off on a long, easy lope ahead of us. We pulled down to a trot andfollowed him. 

 * Lion

At the end of a half mile we made out a man up a tree. Fundi, out ofbreath, stopped short and pointed to this man. The latter, as soon as hehad seen us, commenced to scramble down. We spurred forward to find outwhere the lions had been last seen. 

Then Billy covered herself with glory by seeing them first. She apprisedus of that fact with some excitement. We saw the long, yellow bodies oftwo of them disappearing in the edge of the brush about three hundredyards away. With a wild whoop we tore after them at a dead run. 

Then began a wild ride. Do you remember Billy's remark about the natureof the footing? Before long we closed in near enough to catch occasionalglimpses of the beasts, bounding easily along. At that moment B. 's horsewent down in a heap. None of us thought for a moment of pulling up. Ilooked back to see B. Getting up again, and thought I caught fragmentsof encouraging-sounding language. Then my horse went down. I managed tohold my rifle clear, and to cling to the reins. Did you ever try toget on a somewhat demoralized horse in a frantic hurry, when all yourfriends were getting farther away every minute, and so lessening yourchances of being in the fun? I began to understand perfectly B. 'sremarks of a moment before. However, on I scrambled, and soon overtookthe hunt. 

We dodged in and out of bushes, and around and over holes. Every fewmoments we would catch a glimpse of one of those silently boundinglions, and then we would let out a yell. Also every few moments oneor the other of us would go down in a heap, and would scramble up andcurse, and remount hastily. Billy had better luck. She had no gun, andbelonged a little in the rear anyway, but was coming along game as abadger for all that. 

My own horse had the legs of the others quite easily, and for thatreason I was ahead far enough to see the magnificent sight of five lionssideways on, all in a row, standing in the grass gazing at me with asort of calm and impersonal dignity. I wheeled my horse immediately soas to be ready in case of a charge, and yelled to the others to hurryup. While I sat there, they moved slowly off one after the other, sothat by the time the men had come, the lions had gone. We now hadno difficulty in running into them again. Once more my better animalbrought me to the lead, so that for the second time I drew up facing thelions, and at about one hundred yards range. One by one they began toleave as before, very leisurely and haughtily, until a single old manedfellow remained. He, however, sat there, his great round head peeringover the top of the grass. 

"Well, " he seemed to say, "here I am, what do you intend to do aboutit?"

The others arrived, and we all dismounted. B. Had not yet killed hislion, so the shot was his. Billy very coolly came up behind and heldhis horse. I should like here to remark that Billy is very terrified ofspiders. F. And I stood at the ready, and B. Sat down. 

Riding fast an exciting mile or so, getting chucked on your head two orthree times, and facing your first lion are none of them conducive tosteady shooting. The first shot therefore went high, but the second hitthe lion square in the chest, and he rolled over dead. 

We all danced a little war dance, and congratulated B. And turned to getthe meaning of a queer little gurgling gasp behind us. There was Fundi!That long-legged scarecrow, not content with running to get us and thenback again, had trailed us the whole distance of our mad chase overbroken ground at terrific speed in order to be in at the death. And hewas just about all in at the death. He could barely gasp his breath, hiseyes stuck out; he looked close to apoplexy. 

"Bwana! bwana!" was all he could say. "Master! master!"

We shook hands with Fundi. 

"My son, " said I, "you're a true sport, and you'll surely get yourslater. "

He did not understand me, but he grinned. The gunbearers began to driftin, also completely pumped. They set up a feeble shout when they sawthe dead lion. It was a good maned beast, three feet six inches at theshoulder, and nine feet long. 

We left Fundi with the lion, instructing him to stay there until someof the other men came up. We remounted and pushed on slowly in hopes ofcoming on one of the others. 

Here and there we rode, our courses interweaving, looking eagerly. Andlo! through a tiny opening in the brush we espied one of those elusivegerenuk standing not over one hundred yards away. Whereupon I dismountedand did some of the worst shooting I perpetrated in Africa, for I letloose three times at him before I landed. But land I did, and there wasone Lesser Hoodoo broken. Truly this was our day. 

We measured him and started to prepare the trophy, when to us cameMavrouki and a porter, quite out of breath, but able to tell us thatthey had been scouting around and had seen two of the lions. Then, instead of leaving one up a tree to watch, both had come pell-mell totell us all about it. We pointed this out to them, and called theirattention to the fact that the brush was wide, that lions are notstationary objects, and that, unlike the leopard, they can change theirspots quite readily. However, we remounted and went to take a look. 

Of course there was nothing. So we rode on, rather aimlessly, weavingin and out of the bushes and open spaces. I think we were all a littletired from the long day and the excitement, and hence a bit listless. Suddenly we were fairly shaken out of our saddles by an angry roar justahead. Usually a lion growls, low and thunderous, when he wants, towarn you that you have gone about far enough; but this one was angry allthrough at being followed about so much, and he just plain yelled at us. 

He crouched near a bush forty yards away, and was switching his tail. Ihad heard that this was a sure premonition of an instant charge, but Ihad not before realized exactly what "switching the tail" meant. I hadthought of it as a slow sweeping from side to side, after the mannerof the domestic cat. This lion's tail was whirling perpendicularly fromright to left, and from left to right with the speed and energy of aflail actuated by a particularly instantaneous kind of machinery. Icould see only the outline of the head and this vigorous tail; but Itook instant aim and let drive. The whole affair sank out of sight. 

We made a detour around the dead lion without stopping to examine him, shouting to one of the men to stay and watch the carcass. Billy aloneseemed uninfected with the now prevalent idea that we were likely tofind lions almost anywhere. Her skepticism was justified. We found nomore lions; but another miracle took place for all that. We ran acrossthe second imbecile gerenuk, and B. Collected it! These two werethe only ones we ever got within decent shot of, and they sandwichedthemselves neatly with lions. Truly, it WAS our day. 

After a time we gave it up, and went back to measure and photograph ourlatest prize. It proved to be a male, maneless, two inches shorter thanthat killed by B. , and three feet five and one half inches tall at theshoulder. My bullet had reached the brain just over the left eye. 

Now, toward sunset, we headed definitely toward camp. The long shadowsand beautiful lights of evening were falling across the hills far theother side the Isiola. A little breeze with a touch of coolness breatheddown from distant unseen Kenia. We plodded on through the grass quitehappily, noting the different animals coming out to the cool of theevening. The line of brush that marked the course of the Isiola cameimperceptibly nearer until we could make out the white gleam of theporters' tents and wisps of smoke curling upward. 

Then a small black mass disengaged itself from the camp and came slowlyacross the prairie in our direction. As it approached we made it outto be our Monumwezis, twenty strong. The news of the lions had reachedthem, and they were coming to meet us. They were huddled in a closeknot, their heads inclined toward the centre. Each man carried uprighta peeled white wand. They moved in absolute unison and rhythm, on aslanting zigzag in our direction: first three steps to the right, thenthree to the left, with a strong stamp of the foot between. Their bodiesswayed together. Sulimani led them, dancing backward, his wand upheld. 

"Sheeka!" he enunciated in a piercing half whistle. 

And the swaying men responded in chorus, half hushed, rumbling, withstrong aspiration. 

"Goom zoop! goom zoop!"

When fifty yards from us, however, the formation broke and they rushedus with a yell. Our horses plunged in astonishment, and we had hard workto prevent their bolting, small blame to 'em! The men surrounded us, shaking our hands frantically. At once they appropriated everything weor our gunbearers carried. One who got left otherwise insisted on havingBilly's parasol. Then we all broke for camp at full speed, yelling likefiends, firing our revolvers in the air. It was a grand entry, and agrand reception. The rest of the camp poured out with wild shouts. Thedark forms thronged about us, teeth flashing, arms waving. And in thebackground, under the shadows of the trees were the Monumwezis, theirformation regained, close gathered, heads bent, two steps swaying tothe right-stamp! two steps swaying to the left-stamp!-the white wandsgleaming, and the rumble of their lion song rolling in an undertone:

"Goom zoop! goom zoop!"

XV. THE LION DANCE

We took our hot baths and sat down to supper most gratefully, for wewere tired. The long string of men, bearing each a log of wood, filed infrom the darkness to add to our pile of fuel. Saa-sita and Shamba kneltand built the night fire. In a moment the little flame licked up throughthe carefully arranged structure. We finished the meal, and the boyswhisked away the table. 

Then out in the blackness beyond our little globe of light we becameaware of a dull confusion, a rustling to and fro. Through the shadowsthe eye could guess at movement. The confusion steadied to a kind ofrhythm, and into the circle of the fire came the group of Monumwezis. Again they were gathered together in a compact little mass; but now theywere bent nearly double, and were stripped to the red blankets abouttheir waists. Before them writhed Sulimani, close to earth, dartingirregularly now to right, now to left, wriggling, spreading his armsabroad. He was repeating over and over two phrases; or rather the samephrase in two such different intonations that they seemed to conveyquite separate meanings. 

"Ka soompeele?" he cried with a strongly appealing interrogation. 

"Ka soompeele!" he repeated with the downward inflection of decidedaffirmation. 

And the bent men, their dark bodies gleaming in the firelight, stampingin rhythm every third step, chorused in a deep rumbling bass:

"Goom zoop! goom zoop!"

Thus they advanced; circled between us and the fire, and withdrew to thehalf darkness, where tirelessly they continued the same reiterations. 

Hardly had they withdrawn when another group danced forward in theirplaces. These were the Kikuyus. They had discarded completely theirsafari clothes, and now came forth dressed out in skins, in strips ofwhite cloth, with feathers, shells and various ornaments. They carriedwhite wands to represent spears, and they sang their tribal lion song. A soloist delivered the main argument in a high wavering minor and wasfollowed by a deep rumbling emphatic chorus of repetition, stronglyaccented so that the sheer rhythm of it was most pronounced:

"An-gee a Ka ga An-gee a Ka ga An-gee a Ka ga Ki ya Ka ga Ka ga an geeya!"

Solemnly and loftily, their eyes fixed straight before them they madethe circle of the fire, passed before our chairs, and withdrew to thehalf light. There, a few paces from the stamping, crouching Monumwezis, they continued their performance. 

The next to appear were the Wakambas. These were more histrionic. Theytoo were unrecognizable as our porters, for they too had for the liondiscarded their work-a-day garments in favour of savage. They produced apantomime of the day's doings, very realistic indeed, ending with a halfdozen of dark swaying bodies swinging and shuddering in the long grassas lions, while the "horses" wove in and out among the crouching forms, all done to the beat of rhythm. Past us swept the hunt, and in its turnmelted into the half light. 

The Kavirondos next appeared, the most fantastically caparisoned of thelot, fine big black men, their eyes rolling with excitement. They hadcaptured our flag from its place before the big tent, and were ralliedclose about this, dancing fantastically. Before us they leaped andstamped and shook their spears and shouted out their full-voiced song, while the other three tribes danced each its specialty dimly in thebackground. 

The dance thus begun lasted for fully two hours. Each tribe took aturn before us, only to give way to the next. We had leisure to noticeminutiae, such as the ingenious tail one of the "lions" had constructedfrom a sweater. As time went on, the men worked themselves to a frenzy. From the serried ranks every once in a while one would break forth witha shriek to rush headlong into the fire, to beat the earth about himwith his club, to rush over to shake one of us violently by the hand, or even to seize one of our feet between his two palms. Then with equalabruptness back he darted to regain his place among the dancers. Wilderand wilder became the movements, higher rose the voices. The mock lionhunt grew more realistic, and the slaughter on both sides somethingtremendous. Lower and lower crouched the Monumwezi, drawing apart withtheir deep "goom"; drawing suddenly to a common centre with the sharp"zoop!" Only the Kikuyus held their lofty bearing as they rolled forththeir chant, but the mounting excitement showed in their tense musclesand the rolling of their eyes. The sweat glistened on naked black andbronze bodies. Among the Monumwezi to my astonishment I saw Memba Sasa, stripped like the rest, and dancing with all abandon. The firelightleaped high among the logs that eager hands cast on it; and the shadowsit threw from the swirling, leaping figures wavered out into a great, calm darkness. 

The night guard understood a little of the native languages, so he stoodbehind our chairs and told us in Swahili the meaning of some of therepeated phrases. 

"This has been a glorious day; few safaris have had so glorious a day. "

"The masters looked upon the fierce lions and did not run away. "

"Brave men without other weapons will nevertheless kill with a knife. "

"The masters' mothers must be brave women, the masters are so brave. "

"The white woman went hunting, and so were many lions killed. "

The last one pleased Billy. She felt that at last she was appreciated. 

We sat there spellbound by the weird savagery of the spectacle-the greatlicking fire, the dancing, barbaric figures, the rise and fall of therhythm, the dust and shuffle, the ebb and flow of the dance, the dim, half-guessed groups swaying in the darkness-and overhead the calm tropicnight. 

At last, fairly exhausted, they stopped. Some one gave a signal. The menall gathered in one group, uttered a final yell, very like a cheer, anddispersed. 

We called up the heroes of the day-Fundi and his companion-and made alittle speech, and bestowed appropriate reward. Then we turned in. 

XVI. FUNDI

Fundi, as I have suggested, was built very much on the lines of themarabout stork. He was about twenty years old, carried himself veryerect, and looked one straight in the eye. His total assets when he cameto us were a pair of raggedy white breeches, very baggy, and an old meshundershirt, ditto ditto. To this we added a jersey, a red blanket, and awater bottle. At the first opportunity he constructed himself a pair ofrawhide sandals. 

Throughout the first part of the trip he had applied himself to businessand carried his load. He never made trouble. Then he and his companionsaw five lions; and the chance Fundi had evidently long been awaitingcame to his hand. He ran himself almost into coma, exhibited himselfgame, and so fell under our especial and distinguished notice. Afterparticipating whole-heartedly in the lion dance he and his companionwere singled out for Our Distinguished Favour, to the extent of fiverupees per. Thus far Fundi's history reads just like the history of anyordinary Captain of Industry. 

Next morning, after the interesting ceremony of rewarding the worthy, wemoved on to a new camp. When the line-up was called for, lo! there stoodFundi, without a load, but holding firmly my double-barrelled rifle. Evidently he had seized the chance of favour-and the rifle-and intendedto be no longer a porter but a second gunbearer. 

This looked interesting, so we said nothing. Fundi marched the daythrough very proudly. At evening he deposited the rifle in the properplace, and set to work with a will at raising the big tent. 

The day following he tried it again. It worked. The third day he marcheddeliberately up past the syce to take his place near me. And the fourthday, as we were going hunting, Fundi calmly fell in with the rest. Nothing had been said, but Fundi had definitely grasped his chance torise from the ranks. In this he differed from his companion in glory. That worthy citizen pocketed his five rupees and was never heard fromagain; I do not even remember his name nor how he looked. 

I killed a buck of some sort, and Memba Sasa, as usual, stepped forwardto attend to the trophy. But I stopped him. 

"Fundi, " said I, "if you are a gunbearer, prepare this beast. "

He stepped up confidently and set to work. I watched him closely. Hedid it very well, without awkwardness, though he made one or two minormistakes in method. 

"Have you done this before?" I inquired. 

"No, bwana. "

"How did you learn to do it?"

"I have watched the gunbearers when I was a porter bringing in meat. "*

 * Except in the greatest emergencies a gunbearer would never think of carrying any sort of a burden. 

This was pleasing, but it would never do, at this stage of the game, to let him think so, neither on his own account nor that of the realgunbearers. 

"You will bring in meat today also, " said I, for I was indeed alittle shorthanded, "and you will learn how to make the top incisionstraighter. "

When we had reached camp I handed him the Springfield. 

"Clean this, " I told him. 

He departed with it, returning it after a time for my inspection. Itlooked all right. I catechized him on the method he had employed-forhigh velocities require very especial treatment-and found him letterperfect. 

"You learned this also by watching?"

"Yes, bwana, I watched the gunbearers by the fire, evenings. "

Evidently Fundi had been preparing for his chance. 

Next day, as he walked alongside, I noticed that he had not removed theleather cap, or sight protector, that covers the end of the rifle and isfastened on by a leather thong. Immediately I called a halt. 

"Fundi, " said I, "do you know that the cover should be in your pocket?Suppose a rhinoceros jumps up very near at hand: how can you get time tounlace the thong and hand me the rifle?"

He thrust the rifle at me suddenly. In some magical fashion the sightcover had disappeared!

"I have thought of this, " said he, "and I have tied the thong, so, inorder that it come away with one pull; and I snatch it off, so, with myleft hand while I am giving you the gun with my right hand. It seemedgood to keep the cover on, for there are many branches, and the sight isvery easy to injure. "

Of course this was good sense, and most ingenious; Fundi bade fair to bequite a boy, but the native African is very easily spoiled. Therefore, although my inclination was strongly to praise him, I did nothing of thesort. 

"A gunbearer carries the gun away from the branches, " was my onlycomment. 

Shortly after occurred an incident by way of deeper test. We were allriding rather idly along the easy slope below the foothills. The grasswas short, so we thought we could see easily everything there was tobe seen; but, as we passed some thirty yards from a small tree, anunexpected and unnecessary rhinoceros rose from an equally unexpectedand unnecessary green hollow beneath the tree, and charged us. He madestraight for Billy. Her mule, panic-stricken, froze with terror in spiteof Billy's attack with a parasol. I spurred my own animal between herand the charging brute, with some vague idea of slipping off the otherside as the rhino struck. F. And B. Leaped from their own animals, andF. , with a little. 28 calibre rifle, took a hasty shot at the big brute. Now, of course a. 28 calibre rifle would hardly injure a rhino, but thebullet happened to catch his right shoulder just as he was about to comedown on his right foot. The shock tripped him up as neatly as though hehad been upset by a rope. At the same instant Billy's mule came to itssenses and bolted, whereupon I too jumped off. The whole thing tookabout two finger snaps of time. At the instant I hit the ground, Fundipassed the double rifle across the horse's back to me. 

Note two things to the credit of Fundi: in the first place, he had notbolted; in the second place, instead of running up to the left side ofmy mount and perhaps colliding with and certainly confusing me, he hadcome up on the right side and passed the rifle to me ACROSS the horse. I do not know whether or not he had figured this out beforehand, but itwas cleverly done. 

The rhinoceros rolled over and over, like a shot rabbit, kicked for amoment, and came to his feet. We were now all ready for him, in battlearray, but he had evidently had enough. He turned at right angles andtrotted off, apparently-and probably-none the worse for the littlebullet in his shoulder. 

Fundi now began acquiring things that he supposed befitting to hisdignity. The first of these matters was a faded fez, in which he stucka long feather. From that he progressed in worldly wealth. How he gotit all, on what credit, or with what hypnotic power, I do not know. Probably he hypothecated his wages, certainly he had his five rupees. 

At any rate he started out with a ragged undershirt and a pair of white, baggy breeches. He entered Nairobi at the end of the trip with a cap, a neat khaki shirt, two water bottles, a cartridge belt, a sash with atassel, a pair of spiral puttees, an old pair of shoes, and a personalprivate small boy, picked up en route from some of the savage tribes, to carry his cooking pot, make his fires, draw his water, and generally perform his lordly behests. This was indeed"more-than-oriental-splendour!"

From now on Fundi considered himself my second gunbearer. I had no usefor him, but Fundi's development interested me, and I wanted to givehim a chance. His main fault at first was eagerness. He had to be rappedpretty sharply and a good number of times before he discovered thathe really must walk in the rear. His habit of calling my attention toperfectly obvious things I cured by liberal sarcasm. His intense desireto take his own line as perhaps opposed to mine when we were castingabout on trail, I abated kindly but firmly with the toe of my boot. Hisevident but mistaken tendency to consider himself on an equality withMemba Sasa we both squelched by giving him the hard and dirty work todo. But his faults were never those of voluntary omission, and he cameon surprisingly; in fact so surprisingly that he began to get quitecocky over it. Not that he was ever in the least aggressive ordisrespectful or neglectful-it would have been easy to deal with thatsort of thing-but he carried his head pretty high, and evidently beganto have mental reservations. Fundi needed a little wholesome discipline. He was forgetting his porter days, and was rapidly coming to considerhimself a full-fledged gunbearer. 

The occasion soon arose. We were returning from a buffalo hunt and ranacross two rhinoceroses, one of which carried a splendid horn. B. Wanted a well developed specimen very much, so we took this chance. Theapproach was easy enough, and at seventy yards or so B. Knocked her flatwith a bullet from his. 465 Holland. The beast was immediately afoot, butwas as promptly smothered by shots from us all. So far the affair wasvery simple, but now came complication. The second rhinoceros refused toleave. We did not want to kill it, so we spent a lot of time and painsshooing it away. We showered rocks and clods of earth in his direction;we yelled sharply and whistled shrilly. The brute faced here and there, his pig eyes blinking, his snout upraised, trying to locate us, anddeclining to budge. At length he gave us up as hopeless, and trottedaway slowly. We let him go, and when we thought he had quite departed, we approached to examine B. 's trophy. 

Whereupon the other craftily returned; and charged us, snorting likean engine blowing off steam. This was a genuine premeditated charge, as opposed to a blind rush, and it is offered as a good example of thesort. 

The rhinoceros had come fairly close before we got into action. Heheaded straight for F. And myself, with B. A little to one side. Thingshappened very quickly. F. And I each planted a heavy bullet in his head;while B. Sent a lighter Winchester bullet into the ribs. The rhino wentdown in a heap eleven yards away, and one of us promptly shot him in thespine to finish him. 

Personally I was entirely concentrated in the matter at hand-as isalways the way in crises requiring action-and got very few impressionsfrom anything outside. Nevertheless I imagined, subconsciously that Ihad heard four shots. F. And B. Disclaimed more than one apiece, so Iconcluded myself mistaken, exchanged my heavy rifle with Fundi for thelighter Winchester, and we started for camp, leaving all the boysto attend to the dead rhinos. At camp I threw down the lever of myWinchester-and drew out an exploded shell!

Here was a double crime on Fundi's part. In the first place, hehad fired the gun, a thing no bearer is supposed ever to do in anycircumstances short of the disarmament and actual mauling of his master. Naturally this is so, for the white man must be able in an emergency todepend ABSOLUTELY on his second gun being loaded and ready for his need. In the second place, Fundi had given me an empty rifle to carry home. Such a weapon is worse than none in case of trouble; at least I couldhave gone up a tree in the latter case. I would have looked sweetsnapping that old cartridge at anything dangerous!

Therefore after supper we stationed ourselves in a row before the fire, seated in our canvas chairs, and with due formality sent word that wewanted all the gunbearers. They came and stood before us. Memba Sasaerect, military, compact, looking us straight in the eye; Mavroukislightly bent forward, his face alive with the little crafty, calculating smile peculiar to him; Simba, tall and suave, standing withmuch social ease; and Fundi, a trifle frightened, but uncertain as towhether or not he had been found out. 

We stated the matter in a few words. 

"Gunbearers, this man Fundi, when the rhinoceros charged, fired Winchi. Was this the work of a gunbearer?"

The three seasoned men looked at each other with shocked astonishmentthat such depravity could exist. 

"And being frightened, he gave back Winchi with the exploded cartridgein her. Was that the work of a gunbearer?"

"No, bwana, " said Fundi humbly. 

"You, the gunbearers, have been called because we wish to know whatshould be done with this man Fundi. "

It should be here explained that it is not customary to kiboko, or flog, men of the gunbearer class. They respect themselves and their calling, and would never stand that sort of punishment. When one blunders, asarcastic scolding is generally sufficient; a more serious fault maybe punished on the spot by the white man's fist; or a really baddereliction may cause the man's instant degradation from the post. Withthis in mind we had called the council of gunbearers. Memba Sasa spoke. 

"Bwana, " said he, "this man is not a true gunbearer. He is no longera true porter. He carries a gun in the field, like a gunbearer; and heknows much of the duty of gunbearer. Also he does not run away nor climbtrees. But he carries in the meat; and he is not a real gunbearer. He ishalf porter and half gunbearer. "

"What punishment shall he have?"

"Kiboko, " said they. 

"Thank you. Bass!"

They went, leaving Fundi. We surveyed him, quietly. 

"You a gunbearer!" said we at last. "Memba Sasa says you are halfgunbearer. He was wrong. You are all porter; and you know no more thanthey do. It is in our mind to put you back to carrying a load. If you donot wish to taste the kiboko, you can take a load to-morrow. "

"The kiboko, bwana, " pleaded Fundi, very abashed and humble. 

"Furthermore, " we added crushingly, "you did not even hit therhinoceros!"

So with all ceremony he got the kiboko. The incident did him a lot ofgood, and toned down his exuberance somewhat. Nevertheless he stillrequired a good deal of training, just as does a promising bird dog inits first season. Generally his faults were of over-eagerness. Indeed, once he got me thoroughly angry in face of another rhinoceros by dancingjust out of reach with the heavy rifle, instead of sticking close to mewhere I could get at him. I temporarily forgot the rhino, and advancedon Fundi with the full intention of knocking his fool head off. Whereupon this six feet something of most superb and insolent pridewilted down to a small boy with his elbow before his face. 

"Don't hit, bwana! Don't hit!" he begged. 

The whole thing was so comical, especially with Memba Sasa standingby virtuous and scornful, that I had hard work to keep from laughing. Fortunately the rhinoceros behaved himself. 

The proud moment of Fundi's life was when safari entered Nairobi at theend of the first expedition. He had gone forth with a load on his head, rags on his back, and his only glory was the self-assumed one of thename he had taken-Fundi, the Expert. He returned carrying a rifle, rigged from top to toe in new garments and fancy accoutrements, followedby a toro, or small boy, he had bought from some of the savage tribes tocarry his blanket and cooking pot for him. To the friends who darted outto the line of march, he was gracious, but he held his head high, andhad no time for mere persiflage. 

I did not take Fundi on my second expedition, for I had no real use fora second gunbearer. Several times subsequently I saw him on the streetsof Nairobi. Always he came up to greet me, and ask solicitously if Iwould not give him a job. This I was unable to do. When we paid off, Ihad made an addition to his porter's wages, and had written him a chit. This said that the boy had the makings of a gunbearer with furthertraining. It would have been unfair to possible white employers to havesaid more. Fundi was, when I left the country, precisely in the positionof any young man who tries to rise in the world. He would not again takea load as porter, and he was not yet skilled enough or known enough topick up more than stray jobs as gunbearer. Before him was struggle andhard times, with a certainty of a highly considered profession if he wonthrough. Behind him was steady work without outlets for ambition. Itwas distinctly up to him to prove whether he had done well to reach forambition, or whether he would have done better in contentment with hisold lot. And that is in essence a good deal like our own world isn't it?

XVII. NATIVES

Up to this time, save for a few Masai at the very beginning of our trip, we had seen no natives at all. Only lately, the night of the lion dance, one of the Wanderobo-the forest hunters-had drifted in to tell us ofbuffalo and to get some meat. He was a simple soul, small and capable, of a beautiful red-brown, with his hair done up in a tight, short queue. He wore three skewers about six inches long thrust through each of hisears, three strings of blue beads on his neck, a bracelet tight aroundhis upper arm, a bangle around his ankle, a pair of rawhide sandals, andabout a half yard of cotton cloth which he hung from one shoulder. As weapons he carried a round-headed, heavy club, or runga, and along-bladed spear. He led us to buffalo, accepted a thirty-three centblanket, and made fire with two sticks in about thirty seconds. The onlyother evidences of human life we had come across were a few beehivessuspended in the trees. These were logs, bored hollow and stopped ateither end. Some of them were very quaintly carved. They hung in thetrees like strange fruits. 

Now, however, after leaving the Isiola, we were to quit the game countryand for days travel among the swarming millions of the jungle. 

A few preliminary and entirely random observations may be permitted meby way of clearing the ground for a conception of these people. Theseobservations do not pretend to be ethnological, nor even common logical. 

The first thing for an American to realize is that our own negropopulation came mainly from the West Coast, and differed utterly fromthese peoples of the highlands in the East. Therefore one must first ofall get rid of the mental image of our own negro "dressed up" in savagegarb. Many of these tribes are not negro at all-the Somalis, the Nandi, and the Masai, for example-while others belong to the negroid andNilotic races. Their colour is general cast more on the red-bronze thanthe black, though the Kavirondos and some others are black enough. Thetexture of their skin is very satiny and wonderful. This perfection isprobably due to the constant anointing of the body with oils of varioussorts. As a usual thing they are a fine lot physically. The southernMasai will average between six and seven feet in height, and are almostinvariably well built. Of most tribes the physical development isremarkably strong and graceful; and a great many of the women willdisplay a rounded, firm, high-breasted physique in marked contrast tothe blacks of the lowlands. Of the different tribes possibly the Kikuyusare apt to count the most weakly and spindly examples: though some ofthese people, perhaps a majority, are well made. 

Furthermore, the native differentiates himself still further inimpression from our negro in his carriage and the mental attitude thatlies behind it. Our people are trying to pattern themselves on whitemen, and succeed in giving a more or less shambling imitation thereof. The native has standards, ideas, and ideals that perfectly satisfy him, and that antedated the white man's coming by thousands of years. Theconsciousness of this reflects itself in his outward bearing. He doesnot shuffle; he is not either obsequious or impudent. Even when heacknowledges the white man's divinity and pays it appropriate respect, he does not lose the poise of his own well-worked-out attitude towardlife and toward himself. 

We are fond of calling these people primitive. In the world's standardof measurement they are primitive, very primitive indeed. But ordinarilyby that term, we mean also undeveloped, embryonic. In that sense we arewrong. Instead of being at the very dawn of human development, thesepeople are at the end-as far as they themselves are concerned. Theoriginal racial impulse that started them down the years towarddevelopment has fulfilled its duty and spent its force. They have workedout all their problems, established all their customs, arranged theworld and its phenomena in a philosophy to their complete satisfaction. They have lived, ethnologists tell us, for thousands, perhaps hundredsof thousands of years, just as we find them to-day. From our standpointthat is in a hopeless intellectual darkness, for they know absolutelynothing of the most elementary subjects of knowledge. From theirstandpoint, however, they have reached the highest DESIRABLE pinnacleof human development. Nothing remains to be changed. Their customs, religions, and duties have been worked out and immutably establishedlong ago; and nobody dreams of questioning either their wisdom or theirimperative necessity. They are the conservatives of the world. 

Nor must we conclude-looking at them with the eyes of our owncivilization-that the savage is, from his standpoint, lazy and idle. His life is laid out more rigidly than ours will be for a great manythousands of years. From childhood to old age he performs his every actin accord with prohibitions and requirements. He must remember them all;for ignorance does not divert consequences. He must observe them all; inpain of terrible punishments. For example, never may he cultivate onthe site of a grave; and the plants that spring up from it must neverbe cut. * He must make certain complicated offerings before venturing toharvest a crop. On crossing the first stream of a journey he must touchhis lips with the end of his wetted bow, wade across, drop a stone onthe far side, and then drink. If he cuts his nails, he must throw theparings into a thicket. If he drink from a stream, and also cross it, he must eject a mouthful of water back into the stream. He must beparticularly careful not to look his mother-in-law in the face. Hundredsof omens by the manner of their happening may modify actions, as, onwhat side of the road a woodpecker calls, or in which direction a hyenaor jackal crosses the path, how the ground hornbill flies or alights, and the like. He must notice these things, and change his plansaccording to their occurrence. If he does not notice them, they exercisetheir influence just the same. This does not encourage a distraitmental attitude. Also it goes far to explain otherwise unexplainablevisitations. Truly, as Hobley says in his unexcelled work on theA-Kamba, "the life of a savage native is a complex matter, and he ishedged round by all sorts of rules and prohibitions, the infringementof which will probably cause his death, if only by the intense belief hehas in the rules which guide his life. "

 * Customs are not universal among the different tribes. I am merely illustrating. 

For these rules and customs he never attempts to give a reason. Theyare; and that is all there is to it. A mere statement: "This is thecustom" settles the matter finally. There is no necessity, nor passingthought even, of finding any logical cause. The matter was worked outin the mental evolution of remote ancestors. At that time, perhaps, insurgent and Standpatter, Conservative and Radical fought out thequestions of the day, and the Muckrakers swung by their tails andchattered about it. Those days are all long since over. The questionsof the world are settled forever. The people have passed through thestruggles of their formative period to the ultimate highest perfectionof adjustment to material and spiritual environment of which they werecapable under the influence of their original racial force. 

Parenthetically, it is now a question whether or not an added impulsecan be communicated from without. Such an impulse must (a) unsettle allthe old beliefs, (b) inspire an era of skepticism, (c) reintroduce theold struggle of ideas between the Insurgent and the Standpatter, andRadical and the Conservative, (d) in the meantime furnish, from theolder civilization, materials, both in the thought-world and in theobject-world, for building slowly a new set of customs more closelyapproximating those we are building for ourselves. This is a longerand slower and more complicated affair than teaching the native to wearclothes and sing hymns; or to build houses and drink gin; but it is whatmust be accomplished step by step before the African peoples are reallycivilized. I, personally, do not think it can be done. 

Now having, a hundred thousand years or so ago, worked out the highestgood of the human race, according to them, what must they say tothemselves and what must their attitude be when the white man has comeand has unrolled his carpet of wonderful tricks? The dilemma is evident. Either we, as black men, must admit that our hundred-thousand-year-oldideas as to what constitutes the highest type of human relation toenvironment is all wrong, or else we must evolve a new attitude towardthis new phenomena. It is human nature to do the latter. Therefore thenative has not abandoned his old gods; nor has he adopted a new. Hestill believes firmly that his way is the best way of doing things, buthe acknowledges the Superman. 

To the Superman, with all races, anything is possible. Only our Supermanis an idea, and ideal. The native has his Superman before him in theactual flesh. 

We will suppose that our own Superman has appeared among us, accomplishing things that apparently contravene all our establishedtenets of skill, of intellect, of possibility. It will be readilyacknowledged that such an individual would at first create someastonishment. He wanders into a crowded hotel lobby, let us say, evidently with the desire of going to the bar. Instead of pushinglaboriously through the crowd, he floats just above their heads, getshis drink, and floats out again! That is levitation, and is probablyjust as simple to him as striking a match is to you and me. After weget thoroughly accustomed to him and his life, we are no longer vastlyastonished, though always interested, at the various manifestationsof his extraordinary powers. We go right along using the marvellouswireless, aeroplanes, motor cars, constructive machinery, and thelike that make us confident-justly, of course-in that we are about thesmartest lot of people on earth. And if we see red, white, and bluestreamers of light crossing the zenith at noon, we do not manifest anyvery profound amazement. "There's that confounded Superman again, " wemutter, if we happen to be busy. "I wonder what stunt he's going to donow!"

A consideration of the above beautiful fable may go a little way towardexplaining the supposed native stolidity in the face of the white man'swonders. A few years ago some misguided person brought a balloon toNairobi. The balloon interested the white people a lot, but everybodywas chiefly occupied wondering what the natives would do when they sawTHAT! The natives did not do anything. They gathered in large numbers, and most interestedly watched it go up, and then went home again. Butthey were not stricken with wonder to any great extent. So also withlocomotives, motor cars, telephones, phonographs-any of our moderningenuities. The native is pleased and entertained, but not astonished. "Stupid creature, no imagination, " say we, because our pride in showingoff is a wee bit hurt. 

Why should he be astonished? His mental revolution took place when hesaw the first match struck. It is manifestly impossible for any one tomake fire instantaneously by rubbing one small stick. When for the firsttime he saw it done, he was indeed vastly astounded. The immutable hadbeen changed. The law had been transcended. The impossible had beenaccomplished. And then, as logical sequence, his mind completed thesyllogism. If the white man can do this impossibility, why not all therest? To defy the laws of nature by flying in the air or forcing greatmasses of iron to transport one, is no more wonderful than to defythem by striking a light. Since the white man can provedly do one, whatearthly reason exists why he should not do anything else that hits hisfancy? There is nothing to get astonished at. 

This does not necessarily mean that the native looks on the white manas a god. On the contrary, your African is very shrewd in the reading ofcharacter. But indubitably white men possess great magic, uncertain inits extent. 

That is as far as I should care to go, without much deeper acquaintance, into the attitude of the native mind toward the whites. A superficialstudy of it, beyond the general principals I have enunciated, disclosesmany strange contradictions. The native respects the white man's warlikeskill, he respects his physical prowess, he certainly acknowledgestacitly his moral superiority in the right to command. In case ofdispute he likes the white man's adjudication; in case of illness theman's medicine; in case of trouble the white man's sustaining hand. Yethe almost never attempts to copy the white man's appearance or ways ofdoing things. His own savage customs and habits he fulfils with as muchpride as ever in their eternal fitness. Once I was badgering Memba Sasa, asking him whether he thought the white skin or the black skin the moreornamental. "You are not white, " he retorted at last. "That, " pointingto a leaf of my notebook, "is white. You are red. I do not like thelooks of red people. "

They call our speech the "snake language, " because of its hissing sound. Once this is brought to your attention, indeed, you cannot help noticingthe superabundance of the sibilants. 

A queer melange the pigeonholes of an African's brain must contain-fearand respect, strongly mingled with clear estimate of intrinsic characterof individuals and a satisfaction with his own standards. 

Nor, I think, do we realize sufficiently the actual fundamentaldifferences between the African and our peoples. Physically they mustbe in many ways as different from our selves as though they actuallybelonged to a different species. The Masai are a fine big race, enduring, well developed and efficient. They live exclusively on cow'smilk mixed with blood; no meat, no fruit, no vegetables, no grain;just that and nothing more. Obviously they must differ from us mostradically, or else all our dietetic theories are wrong. It is awell-known fact that any native requires a triple dose of white man'smedicine. Furthermore a native's sensitiveness to pain is very muchless than the white man's. This is indubitable. For example, the Wakambafile-or, rather, chip, by means of a small chisel-all their frontteeth down to needle points, When these happen to fall out, the warriorsubstitutes an artificial tooth which he drives down into the socket. If the savage got the same effects from such a performance that a whiteman's dental system would arouse, even "savage stoicism" would hardlydo him much good. There is nothing to be gained by multiplying examples. Every African traveller can recall a thousand. 

Incidentally, and by the way, I want to add to the milk-and-blood jokeon dietetics another on the physical culturists. We are all familiarwith the wails over the loss of our toe nails. You know what I mean;they run somewhat like this: shoes are the curse of civilization; ifwe wear them much longer we shall not only lose the intended use of ourfeet, but we shall lose our toe nails as well; the savage man, etc. , etc. , etc. Now I saw a great many of said savage men in Africa, and Igot much interested in their toe nails, because I soon found that ourown civilized "imprisoned" toe nails were very much better developed. Infact, a large number of the free and untramelled savages have hardly anytoe nails at all! Whether this upsets a theory, nullifies a sentimentalprotest, or merely stands as an exception, I should not dare guess. Butthe fact is indubitable. 

XVIII. IN THE JUNGLE (a) THE MARCH TO MERU

Now, one day we left the Isiola River and cut across on a long upwardslant to the left. In a very short time we had left the plains, and wereadrift in an ocean of brown grass that concealed all but the bobbingloads atop the safari, and over which we could only see when mounted. Itwas glorious feed, apparently, but it contained very few animals for allthat. An animal could without doubt wax fat and sleek therein: but onlyto furnish light and salutary meals to beasts of prey. Long grass makeseasy stalking. We saw a few ostriches, some giraffe, and three orfour singly adventurous oryx. The ripening grasses were softer than arippling field grain; and even more beautiful in their umber and browns. Although apparently we travelled a level, nevertheless in the extremedistance the plains of our hunting were dropping below, and the far offmountains were slowly rising above the horizon. On the other side weretwo very green hills, looking nearly straight up and down, and through acleft the splintered snow-clad summit of Mt. Kenia. 

At length this gentle foothill slope broke over into rougher country. Then, in the pass, we came upon many parallel beaten paths, wider andstraighter than the game trails-native tracks. That night we camped ina small, round valley under some glorious trees, with green grass aroundus; a refreshing contrast after the desert brown. In the distance aheadstood a big hill, and at its base we could make out amid the tree-green, the straight slim smoke of many fires and the threads of many roads. 

We began our next morning's march early, and we dropped over the hillinto a wide, cultivated valley. Fields of grain, mostly rape, wereplanted irregularly among big scattered trees. The morning air, warmingunder the sun, was as yet still, and carried sound well. The cooing, chattering and calling of thousands of birds mingled with shouts and theclapping together of pieces of wood. As we came closer we saw that everyso often scaffolds had been erected overlooking the grain, and on thesescaffolds naked boys danced and yelled and worked clappers to scare thebirds from the crops. They seemed to put a great deal of rigour into thejob; whether from natural enthusiasm or efficient direful supervision Icould not say. Certainly they must have worked in watches, however; nohuman being could keep up that row continuously for a single day, letalone the whole season of ripening grain. As we passed they fell silentand stared their fill. 

On the banks of a boggy little stream that we had to flounder across wecame on a gentleman and lady travelling. They were a tall, well formedpair, mahogany in colour, with the open, pleasant expression of most ofthese jungle peoples. The man wore a string around his waist into whichwas thrust a small leafy branch; the woman had on a beautiful skirt madeby halving a banana leaf, using the stem as belt, and letting the leafpart hang down as a skirt. Shortly after meeting these people we turnedsharp to the right on a well beaten road. 

For nearly two weeks we were to follow this road, so it may be as wellto get an idea of it. Its course was a segment of about a sixth of thecircle of Kenia's foothills. With Kenia itself as a centre, this roadswung among the lower elevations about the base of that great mountain. Its course was mainly down and up hundreds of the canyons radiating fromthe main peak, and over the ridges between them. No sooner were we down, than we had to climb up; and no sooner were we up, than once more downwe had to plunge. At times, however, we crossed considerable plateaus. Most of this country was dense jungle, so dense that we could not seeon either side more than fifteen or twenty feet. Occasionally, atop theridges, however, we would come upon small open parks. In these jungleslive millions of human beings. 

At once, as soon as we had turned into the main road, we began to meetpeople. In the grain fields of the valley we saw only the elevated boys, and a few men engaged in weaving a little house perched on stilts. Wecame across some of these little houses all completed, with conicalroofs. They were evidently used for granaries. As we mounted the slopeon the other side, however, the trees closed in, and we found ourselvesmarching down the narrow aisle of the jungle itself. 

It was a dense and beautiful jungle, with very tall trees and thedeepest shade; and the impenetrable tangle to the edge of the track. Among the trees were the broad leaves of bananas and palms, the flingof leafy vines. Over the track these leaned, so that we rode throughsplashing and mottling shade. Nothing could have seemed wilder thanthis apparently impenetrable and yet we had ridden but a short distancebefore we realized that we were in fact passing through cultivated land. It was, again, only a difference in terms. Native cultivation in thisdistrict rarely consists of clearing land and planting crops in dueorder, but in leaving the forest proper as it is, and in plantingfoodstuffs haphazard wherever a tiny space can be made for even threehills of corn or a single banana. Thus they add to rather than subtractfrom the typical density of the jungle. At first, we found, it took somepractice to tell a farm when we saw it. 

From the track narrow little paths wound immediately out of sight. Sometimes we saw a wisp of smoke rising above the undergrowth andeddying in the tops of the trees. Long vine ropes swung from point topoint, hung at intervals with such matters as feathers, bones, miniatureshields, carved sticks, shells and clappers: either as magic or to keepoff the birds. From either side the track we were conscious always ofbright black eyes watching us. Sometimes we caught a glimpse of theirowners crouched in the bush, concealed behind banana leaves, motionlessand straight against a tree trunk. When they saw themselves observedthey vanished without a sound. 

The upper air was musical with birds, and bright with the flutter oftheir wings. Rarely did we see them long enough to catch a fair idea oftheir size and shape. They flashed from shade to shade, leaving onlyan impression of brilliant colour. There were some exceptions: as thewidower-bird, dressed all in black, with long trailing wing-plumes ofwhich he seemed very proud; and the various sorts of green pigeons andparrots. There were many flowering shrubs and trees, and the air wasladen with perfume. Strange, too, it seemed to see tall trees withleaves three or four feet long and half as many wide. 

We were riding a mile or so ahead of the safari. At first we wereaccompanied only by our gunbearers and syces. Before long, however, webegan to accumulate a following. 

This consisted at first of a very wonderful young man, probably achief's son. He carried a long bright spear, wore a short sword thrustthrough a girdle, had his hair done in three wrapped queues, one overeach temple and one behind, and was generally brought to a high stateof polish by means of red earth and oil. About his knee he wore a littlebell that jingled pleasingly at every step. From one shoulder hung agoat-skin cloak embroidered with steel beads. A small package neatlydone up in leaves probably contained his lunch. He teetered along with amincing up and down step, every movement, and the expression of his facedisplaying a fatuous self-satisfaction. When we looked back again thisyouth had magically become two. Then appeared two women and a whitegoat. All except the goat were dressed for visiting, with long chains ofbeads, bracelets and anklets, and heavy ornaments in the distended earlobes. The manner people sprang apparently out of the ground was verydisconcerting. It was a good deal like those fairy-story moving pictureswhere a wave of the wand produces beautiful ladies. By half an hourwe had acquired a long retinue-young warriors, old men, women andinnumerable children. After we had passed, the new recruits steppedquietly from the shadow of the jungle and fell in. Every one withnothing much to do evidently made up his mind he might as well go toMeru now as any other time. 

Also we met a great number of people going in the other direction. Womenwere bearing loads of yams. Chiefs' sons minced along, their spearspoised in their left hands at just the proper angle, their banglesjingling, their right hands carried raised in a most affected manner. Their social ease was remarkable, especially in contrast with theawkwardness of the lower poverty-stricken or menial castes. The latterdrew one side to let us pass, and stared. Our chiefs' sons, on the otherhand, stepped springingly and beamingly forward; spat carefully in theirhands (we did the same); shook hands all down the line: exchangeda long-drawn "moo-o-ga!" with each of us; and departed at the samespringing rapid gait. The ordinary warriors greeted us, but did notoffer to shake hands, thank goodness! There were a great many of them. Across the valleys and through the open spaces the sun, as it struckdown the trail, was always flashing back from distant spears. Twice wemet flocks of sheep being moved from one point to another. Three or fourherdsmen and innumerable small boys seemed to be in charge. Occasionallywe met a real chief or headman of a village, distinguished by thefact that he or a servant carried a small wooden stool. With thesedignitaries we always stopped to exchange friendly words. 

These comprised the travelling public. The resident public also showeditself quite in evidence. Once our retainers had become sufficientlynumerous to inspire confidence, the jungle people no longer hid. Onthe contrary, they came out to the very edge of the track to exchangegreetings. They were very good-natured, exceedingly well-formed, andquite jocular with our boys. Especially did our suave and elegant Simbasparkle. This resident public, called from its daily labours and duties, did not always show as gaudy a make-up as did the dressed-up travellingpublic. Banana leaves were popular wear, and seemed to us at once prettyand fresh. To be sure some had rather withered away; but even wool willshrink. We saw some grass skirts, like the Sunday-school pictures. 

At noon we stopped under a tree by a little stream for lunch. Beforelong a dozen women were lined up in front of us staring at Billy withall their might. She nodded and smiled at them. Thereupon they sentone of their number away. The messenger returned after a few momentscarrying a bunch of the small eating bananas which she laid at our feet. Billy fished some beads out of her saddle bags, and presented them. Friendly relations having been thus fully established, two or three ofthe women scurried hastily away, to return a few moments later each withher small child. To these infants they carefully and earnestly pointedout Billy and her wonders, talking in a tongue unknown to us. Theadmonition undoubtedly ran something like this:

"Now, my child, look well at this: for when you get to be a very oldperson you will be able to look back at the day when with your owneyes you beheld a white woman. See all the strange things she wears-andHASN'T she a funny face?"

We offered these bung-eyed and totally naked youngsters various bribesin the way of beads, the tinfoil from chocolate, and even a small pieceof the chocolate itself. Most of them howled and hid their faces againsttheir mothers. The mothers looked scandalized, and hypocriticallyastounded, and mortified. 

They made remarks, still in an unknown language, but which much pastexperience enabled me to translate very readily:

"I don't know what has got into little Willie, " was the drift of it. "Ihave never known him to act this way before. Why, only yesterday I wassaying to his father that it really seemed as though that child NEVERcried-"

It made me feel quite friendly and at home. 

Now at last came two marvellous and magnificent personages beforewhom the women and children drew back to a respectful distance. Thesepotentates squatted down and smiled at us engagingly. Evidently this wasa really important couple, so we called up Simba, who knew the language, and had a talk. 

They were old men, straight, and very tall, with the hawk-faced, high-headed dignity of the true aristocrat. Their robes were voluminous, of some short-haired skins, beautifully embroidered. Around their armswere armlets of polished buffalo horn. They wore most elaborate earornaments, and long cased marquise rings extending well beyond the firstjoints of the fingers. Very fine old gentlemen. They were quite unarmed. 

After appropriate greetings, we learned that these were the chiefand his prime minister of a nearby village hidden in the jungle. Weexchanged polite phrases; then offered tobacco. This was accepted. From the jungle came a youth carrying more bananas. We indicated ourpleasure. The old men arose with great dignity and departed, sweepingthe women and children before them. 

We rode on. Our acquired retinue, which had waited at a respectfuldistance, went on too. I suppose they must have desired the prestigeof being attached to Our Persons. In the depths of the forest Billysuccumbed to the temptation to bargain, and made her first trade. Herprize was a long water gourd strapped with leather and decorated withcowry shells. Our boys were completely scandalized at the price she paidfor it, so I fear the wily savage got ahead of her. 

About the middle of the afternoon we sat down to wait for the safari tocatch up. It would never do to cheat our boys out of their anticipatedgrand entrance to the Government post at Meru. We finally debouchedfrom the forest to the great clearing at the head of a most impressiveprocession, flags flying, oryx horns blowing, boys chanting and beatingthe sides of their loads with the safari sticks. As there happened to begathered, at this time, several thousand of warriors for the purposeof a council, or shauri, with the District Commissioner we had just theaudience to delight our barbaric hearts. 

(b) MERU

The Government post at Meru is situated in a clearing won from theforest on the first gentle slopes of Kenia's ranges. The clearing is avery large one, and on it the grass grows green and short, like a lawn. It resembles, as much as anything else, the rolling, beautiful downsof a first-class country club, and the illusion is enhanced by theCommissioner's house among some trees atop a hill. Well-kept roadwaysrailed with rustic fences lead from the house to the native quarterslying in the hollow and to the Government offices atop another hill. Then also there are the quarters of the Nubian troops; round low houseswith conical grass roofs. 

These, and the presence everywhere of savages, rather take away fromthe first country-club effect. A corral seemed full of a seething mob ofnatives; we found later that this was the market, a place of exchange. Groups wandered idly here and there across the greensward; and othergroups sat in circles under the shade of trees, each man's spear stuckin the ground behind him. At stated points were the Nubians, fine, tall, black, soldierly men, with red fez, khaki shirt, and short breeches, bare knees and feet, spiral puttees, and a broad red sash of webbing. One of these soldiers assigned us a place to camp. We directed oursafari there, and then immediately rode over to pay our respects to theCommissioner. 

The latter, Horne by name, greeted us with the utmost cordiality, andoffered us cool drinks. Then we accompanied him to a grand shauri orcouncil of chiefs. 

Horne was a little chap, dressed in flannels and a big slouch hat, carrying only a light rawhide whip, with very little of the dignity and"side" usually considered necessary in dealing with wild natives. Thepost at Meru had been established only two years, among a people thathad always been very difficult, and had only recently ceased openhostilities. Nevertheless in that length of time Horne's personalinfluence had won them over to positive friendliness. He had, moreover, done the entire construction work of the post itself; and this we nowsaw to be even more elaborate than we had at first realized. Irrigatingditches ran in all directions brimming with clear mountain water; theroads and paths were rounded, graded and gravelled; the houses weresubstantial, well built and well kept; fences, except of course therustic, were whitewashed; the native quarters and "barracks" were wellranged and in perfect order. The place looked ten years old instead ofonly two. 

We followed Horne to an enclosure, outside the gate of which werestacked a great number of spears. Inside we found the owners of thosespears squatted before the open side of a small, three-walled buildingcontaining a table and a chair. Horne placed himself in the chair, lounged back, and hit the table smartly with his rawhide whip. From thecentre of the throng an old man got up and made quite a long speech. When he had finished another did likewise. All was carried out with thegreatest decorum. After four or five had thus spoken, Horne, withoutaltering his lounging attitude, spoke twenty or thirty words, rappedagain on the table with his rawhide whip, and immediately came over tous. 

"Now, " said he cheerfully, "we'll have a game of golf. "

That was amusing, but not astonishing. Most of us have at one time oranother laid out a scratch hole or so somewhere in the vacant lot. Wereturned to the house, Horne produced a sufficiency of clubs, and wesallied forth. Then came the surprise of our life! We played eighteenholes-eighteen, mind you-over an excellently laid-out and kept-upcourse! The fair greens were cropped short and smooth by a well-managedsmall herd of sheep; the putting greens were rolled, and in perfectorder; bunkers had been located at the correct distances; therewere water hazards in the proper spots. In short, it was a genuine, scientific, well-kept golf course. Over it played Horne, solitary excepton the rare occasions when he and his assistant happened to be at thepost at the same time. The nearest white man was six days' journey;the nearest small civilization 196 miles. * The whole affair was mostastounding. 

 * Which was, in turn, over three hundred miles from the next. 

Our caddies were grinning youngsters a good deal like the GoldDust Twins. They wore nothing but our golf bags. Afield were othersupernumerary caddies: one in case we sliced, one in case we pulled, and one in case we drove straight ahead. Horne explained that unlimitedcaddies were easier to get than unlimited golf balls. I can well believeit. 

F. Joined forces with Horne against B. And me for a grand internationalmatch. I regret to state that America was defeated by two holes. 

We returned to find our camp crowded with savages. In a short time wehad established trade relations and were doing a brisk business. Twoyears before we should have had to barter exclusively; but now, thanksto Horne's attempt to collect an annual hut tax, money was some good. Wehad, however, very good luck with bright blankets and cotton cloth. Our beads did not happen here to be in fashion. Probably three monthsearlier or later we might have done better with them. The feminine mindhere differs in no basic essential from that of civilization. Fashionschange as rapidly, as often and as completely in the jungle as in Paris. The trader who brings blue beads when blue beads have "gone out" mightjust as well have stayed at home. We bought a number of the pretty"marquise" rings for four cents apiece (our money), some war clubs orrungas for the same, several spears, armlets, stools and the like. Billythought one of the short, soft skin cloaks embroidered with steel beadsmight be nice to hang on the wall. We offered a youth two rupees forone. This must have been a high price, for every man in hearing of thewords snatched off his cloak and rushed forward holding it out. As thatreduced his costume to a few knick-knacks, Billy retired from the busymart until we could arrange matters. 

We dined with Horne. His official residence was most interesting. Themain room was very high to beams and a grass-thatched roof, with awell-brushed earth floor covered with mats. It contained comfortablefurniture, a small library, a good phonograph, tables, lamps and thelike. When the mountain chill descended, Horne lit a fire in a coal-oilcan with a perforated bottom. What little smoke was produced by theclean burning wood lost itself far aloft. Leopard skins and othertrophies hung on the wall. We dined in another room at a well-appointedtable. After dinner we sat up until the unheard of hour of ten o'clockdiscussing at length many matters that interested us. Horne told us ofhis personal bodyguard consisting of one son from each chief of his widedistrict. These youths were encouraged to make as good an appearanceas possible, and as a consequence turned out in the extreme of savagegorgeousness. Horne spoke of them carelessly as a "matter of policy inkeeping the different tribes well disposed, " but I thought he was atheart a little proud of them. Certainly, later and from other sources, we heard great tales of their endurance, devotion and efficiency. Alsowe heard that Horne had cut in half his six months' leave (earnedby three years' continuous service in the jungle) to hurry back fromEngland because he could not bear the thought of being absent from thefirst collection of the hut tax! He is a good man. 

We said good-night to him and stepped from the lighted house intothe vast tropical night. The little rays of our lantern showed us theinequalities of the ground, and where to step across the bubbling, little irrigation streams. But thousands of stars insisted on asimplification. The broad, rolling meadows of the clearing lay halfguessed in the dim light; and about its edge was the velvet band ofthe forest, dark and mysterious, stretching away for leagues into thejungle. From it near at hand, far away, came the rhythmic beating ofsolemn great drums, and the rising and falling chants of the savagepeoples. 

(C) THE CHIEFS

We left Meru well observed by a very large audience, much to the delightof our safari boys, who love to show off. We had acquired fourteen moresmall boys, or totos, ranging in age from eight to twelve years. Thesehad been fitted out by their masters to alleviate their original shenziappearance of savagery. Some had ragged blankets, which they had alreadylearned to twist turban wise around their heads; others had raggedold jerseys reaching to their knees, or the wrecks of full-grownundershirts; one or two even sported baggy breeches a dozen sizes toolarge. Each carried his little load, proudly, atop his head like a realporter, sufurias or cooking pots, the small bags of potio, and the like. Inside a mile they had gravitated together and with the small boy'srelish for imitation and for playing a game, had completed a miniaturesafari organization of their own. Thenceforth they marched in a compactlittle company, under orders of their "headman. " They marched very well, too, straight and proud and tireless. Of course we inspected their loadsto see that they were not required to carry too much for their strength;but, I am bound to say, we never discovered an attempt at overloading. In fact, the toto brigade was treated very well indeed. M'gangaespecially took great interest in their education and welfare. One ofmy most vivid camp recollections is that of M'ganga, very benign anddidactic, seated on a chop box and holding forth to a semicircle oftotos squatted on the ground before him. On reaching camp totos hadseveral clearly defined duties: they must pick out good places for theirmasters' individual camps, they must procure cooking stones, they mustcollect kindling wood and start fires, they must fill the sufurias withwater and set them over to boil. In the meantime, their masters wereattending to the pitching of the bwana's camp. The rest of the time thetoto played about quite happily, and did light odd jobs, or watched mostattentively while his master showed him small details of a safari-boy'sduty, or taught him simple handicraft. Our boys seemed to take greatpains with their totos and to try hard to teach them. 

Also at Meru we had acquired two cocks and four hens of the ridiculouslysmall native breed. These rode atop the loads: their feet were tied tothe cords and there they swayed and teetered and balanced all day long, apparently quite happy and interested. At each new camp site they werereleased and went scratching and clucking around among the tents. Theylent our temporary quarters quite a settled air of domesticity. We namedthe cocks Gaston and Alphonse and somehow it was rather fine, inthe blackness before dawn, to hear these little birds crowingstout-heartedly against the great African wilderness. Neither Gaston, Alphonse nor any of their harem were killed and eaten by their owners;but seemed rather to fulfil the function of household pets. 

Along the jungle track we met swarms of people coming in to the post. One large native safari composed exclusively of women were transportingloads of trade goods for the Indian trader. They carried their burdenson their backs by means of a strap passing over the top of the head; ourown "tump line" method. The labour seemed in no way to have dashed theirspirits, for they grinned at us, and joked merrily with our boys. Alongthe way, every once in a while, we came upon people squatted down behindsmall stocks of sugarcane, yams, bananas, and the like. With these ourboys did a brisk trade. Little paths led mysteriously into the jungle. Down them came more savages to greet us. Everybody was most friendly andcheerful, thanks to Horne's personal influence. Two years before thissame lot had been hostile. From every hidden village came the headmenor chiefs. They all wanted to shake hands-the ordinary citizen neverdreamed of aspiring to that honour-and they all spat carefully intotheir palms before they did so. This all had to be done in passing; forordinary village headmen it was beneath Our Dignity to draw rein. Onceonly we broke over this rule. That was in the case of an old fellow withwhite hair who managed to get so tangled up in the shrubbery that hecould not get to us. He was so frantic with disappointment that we madean exception and waited. 

About three miles out, we lost one of our newly acquired totos. Reason:an exasperated parent who had followed from Meru for the purpose ofreclaiming his runaway offspring. The latter was dragged off howling. Evidently he, like some of his civilized cousins, had "run away to jointhe circus. " As nearly as we could get at it, the rest of the totos, aswell as the nine additional we picked up before we quitted the jungle, had all come with their parents' consent. In fact, we soon discoveredthat we could buy any amount of good sound totos, not house brokehowever, for an average of half a rupee (16-1/2 cents) apiece. 

The road was very much up and down hill over the numerous ridges thatstar-fish out from Mt. Kenia. We would climb down steep trails from 200to 800 feet (measured by aneroid), cross an excellent mountain stream ofcrystalline dashing water, and climb out again. The trails of course hadno notion of easy grades. It was very hard work, especially for men withloads; and it would have been impossible on account of the heat wereit not for the numerous streams. On the slopes and in the bottomswere patches of magnificent forest; on the crests was the jungle, andoccasionally an outlook over extended views. The birds and the strangetropical big-leaved trees were a constant delight-exotic and strange. Billy was in a heaven of joy, for her specialty in Africa was plants, seeds and bulbs, for her California garden. She had syces, gunbearersand tent boys all climbing, shaking branches, and generally pawingabout. 

This idiosyncracy of Billy's puzzled our boys hugely. At first theytried telling her that everything was poisonous; but when that did notwork, they resigned themselves to their fate. In fact, some of the mostenterprising like Memba Sasa, Kitaru, and, later, Kongoni used of theirown accord to hunt up and bring in seeds and blossoms. They did not inthe least understand what it was for; and it used to puzzle themhugely until out of sheer pity for their uneasiness, I implied that theMemsahib collected "medicine. " That was rational, so the wrinkled browof care was smoothed. From this botanical trait, Billy got her nativename of "Beebee Kooletta"-"The Lady Who Says: Go Get That. " For inAfrica every white man has a name by which he is known among the nativepeople. If you would get news of your friends, you must know their localcognomens-their own white man names will not do at all. For example, I was called either Bwana Machumwani or Bwana N'goma. The former meansmerely Master Four-eyes, referring to my glasses. The precise meaning ofthe latter is a matter much disputed between myself and Billy. An N'gomais a native dance, consisting of drum poundings, chantings, and hoppingsaround. Therefore I translate myself (most appropriately) as theMaster who Makes Merry. On the other hand, Billy, with true feminineindirectness, insists that it means "The Master who Shouts and Howls. " Ileave it to any fairminded reader. 

About the middle of the morning we met a Government runner, a proudyouth, young, lithe, with many ornaments and bangles; his red skinglistening; the long blade of his spear, bound around with a red stripto signify his office, slanting across his shoulder; his buffalo hideshield slung from it over his back; the letter he was bearing stuck ina cleft stick and carried proudly before him as a priest carries a crossto the heathen-in the pictures. He was swinging along at a brisk pace, but on seeing us drew up and gave us a smart military salute. 

At one point where the path went level and straight for some distance, we were riding in an absolute solitude. Suddenly from the jungle oneither side and about fifty yards ahead of us leaped a dozen women. Theywere dressed in grass skirts, and carried long narrow wooden shieldspainted white and brown. These they clashed together, shrieked shrilly, and charged down on us at full speed. When within a few yards ofour horses noses they came to a sudden halt, once more clashed theirshields, shrieked, turned and scuttled away as fast as their legscould carry them. At a hundred yards they repeated the performance; andcharged back at us again. Thus advancing and retreating, shrieking high, hitting the wooden shields with resounding crash, they preceded our slowadvance for a half mile or so. Then at some signal unperceived by usthey vanished abruptly into the jungle. Once more we rode forward insilence and in solitude. Why they did it I could not say. 

Of this tissue were our days made. At noon our boys plucked us each twoor three banana leaves which they spread down for us to lie on. Thenwe dozed through the hot hours in great comfort, occasionally waking toblue sky through green trees, or to peer idly into the tangled jungle. At two o'clock or a little later we would arouse ourselves reluctantlyand move on. The safari we had dimly heard passing us an hour before. In this country of the direct track we did not attempt to accompany ourmen. 

The end of the day's march found us in a little clearing where we couldpitch camp. Generally this was atop a ridge, so that the boys had somedistance to carry water; but that disadvantage was outweighed by thecleared space. Sometimes we found ourselves hemmed in by a wall ofjungle. Again we enjoyed a broad outlook. One such in especial took inthe magnificent, splintered, snow-capped peak of Kenia on the right, atremendous gorge and rolling forested mountains straight ahead, and agreat drop to a plain with other and distant mountains to the left. Itwas as fine a panoramic view as one could imagine. 

Our tents pitched, and ourselves washed and refreshed, we gave audienceto the resident chief, who had probably been waiting. With thispotentate we conversed affably, after the usual expectoratorialceremonies. Billy, being a mere woman, did not always come in for this;but nevertheless she maintained what she called her "quarantine gloves, "and kept them very handy. We had standing orders with our boys forbasins of hot water to be waiting always behind our tents. After theusual polite exchanges we informed the chief of our needs-firewood, perhaps, milk, a sheep or the like. These he furnished. When we left wemade him a present of a few beads, a knife, a blanket or such accordingto the value of his contribution. 

To me these encounters were some of the most interesting of our manyexperiences, for each man differed radically from every other in hisconceptions of ceremony, in his ideas, and in his methods. Our comingwas a good deal of an event, always, and each chief, according to histemperament and training, tried to do things up properly. And inthat attempt certain basic traits of human nature showed in the verystrongest relief. Thus there are three points of view to take in runningany spectacle: that of the star performer, the stage manager, or thetruly artistic. We encountered well-marked specimens of each. I willtell you about them. 

The star performer knew his stagecraft thoroughly; and in the expositionof his knowledge he showed incidentally how truly basic are theprinciples of stagecraft anywhere. 

We were seated under a tree near the banks of a stream eating our lunch. Before us appeared two tall and slender youths, wreathed in smiles, engaging, and most attentive to the small niceties of courtesy. Wereturned their greeting from our recumbent positions, whereupon theymade preparation to squat down beside us. 

"Are you sultans?" we demanded sternly, "that you attempt to sit in OurPresence, " and we lazily kicked the nearest. 

Not at all abashed, but favourably impressed with our transcendentimportance-as we intended-they leaned gracefully on their spears andentered into conversation. After a few trifles of airy persiflage theygot down to business. 

"This, " said they, indicating the tiny flat, "is the most beautifulplace to camp in all the mountains. "

We doubted it. 

"Here is excellent water. "

We agreed to that. 

"And there is no more water for a journey. "

"You are liars, " we observed politely. 

"And near is the village of our chief, who is a great warrior, and willbring you many presents; the greatest man in these parts. "

"Now you're getting to it, " we observed in English; "you want trade. "Then in Swahili, "We shall march two hours longer. "

After a few polite phrases they went away. We finished lunch, remounted, and rode up the trail. At the edge of the canyon we came to a wideclearing, at the farther side of which was evidently the village inquestion. But the merry villagers, down to the last toro, were drawn upat the edge of the track in a double line through which we rode. Theywere very wealthy savages, and wore it all. Bright neck, arm, and legornaments, yards and yards of cowry shells in strings, blue beads ofall sizes (blue beads were evidently "in"), odd scraps and shapes ofembroidered skins, clean shaves and a beautiful polish characterizedthis holiday gathering. We made our royal progress between theserried ranks. About eight or ten seconds after we had passed the lastvillager-just the proper dramatic pause, you observe-the bushes partedand a splendid, straight, springy young man came into view and steppedsmilingly across the space that separated us. And about eight or tenseconds after his emergence-again just the right dramatic pause-thebushes parted again to give entrance to four of the quaintest littledolls of wives. These advanced all abreast, parted, and took uppositions two either side the smiling chief. This youth was evidentlyin the height of fashion, his hair braided in a tight queue bound withskin, his ears dangling with ornaments, heavy necklaces around his neck, and armlets etc. , ad lib. His robe was of fine monkey skin embroideredwith rosettes of beads, and his spear was very long, bright and keen. Hewas tall and finely built carried himself with a free, lithe swing. Asthe quintette came to halt, the villagers fell silent and our shauribegan. 

We drew up and dismounted. We all expectorated as gentlemen. 

"These, " said he proudly, "are my beebees. "

We replied that they seemed like excellent beebees and politely inquiredthe price of wives thereabout, and also the market for totos. He gave usto understand that such superior wives as these brought three cows andtwenty sheep apiece, but that you could get a pretty good toto for halfa rupee. 

"When we look upon our women, " he concluded grandly, "we find themgood; but when we look upon the white women they are as nothing!"He completely obliterated the poor little beebees with a magnificentgesture. They looked very humble and abashed. I was, however, a bituncertain as to whether this was intended as a genuine tribute to Billy, or was meant to console us for having only one to his four. 

Now observe the stagecraft of all this: entrance of diplomats, preliminary conversation introducing the idea of the greatness ofN'Zahgi (for that was his name), chorus of villagers, and, as climax, dramatic entrance of the hero and heroines. It was pretty well done. 

Again we stopped about the middle of the afternoon in an opening on therounded top of a hill. While waiting for the safari to come up, Billywandered away fifty or sixty yards to sit under a big tree. She did notstay long. Immediately she was settled, a dozen women and young girlssurrounded her. They were almost uproariously good-natured, but Billywas probably the first white woman they had ever seen, and they intendedto make the most of her. Every item of her clothes and equipment theyexamined minutely, handled and discussed. When she told them with greatdignity to go away, they laughed consumedly, fairly tumbling into eachother's arms with excess of joy. Billy tried to gather her effects for amasterly retreat, but found the press of numbers too great. At last shehad to signal for help. One of us wandered over with a kiboko with whichlightly he flicked the legs of such damsels as he could reach. Theyscattered like quail, laughing hilariously. Billy was escorted back tosafety. 

Shortly after the Chief and his Prime Minister came in. He was a littleold gray-haired gentleman, as spry as a cricket, quite nervous, and verychatty. We indicated our wants to him, and he retired after enunciatingmany words. The safari came in, made camp. We had tea and a bath. Thedarkness fell; and still no Chief, no milk, no firewood, no promisesfulfilled. There were plenty of natives around camp, but when wesuggested that they get out and rustle on our behalf, they merelylaughed good-naturedly. We seriously contemplated turning the whole lotout of camp. 

Finally we gave it up, and sat down to our dinner. It was now quitedark. The askaris had built a little campfire out in front. 

Then, far in the distance of the jungle's depths, we heard a faintmeasured chanting as of many people coming nearer. From anotherdirection this was repeated. The two processions approached each other;their paths converged; the double chanting became a chorus that grewmoment by moment. We heard beneath the wild weird minors the rhythmicstamping of feet, and the tapping of sticks. The procession debouchedfrom the jungle's edge into the circle of the firelight. Our old chiefled, accompanied by a bodyguard in all the panoply of war: ostrichfeather circlets enclosing the head and face, shields of brightheraldry, long glittering spears. These were followed by a dozen of thequaintest solemn dolls of beebees dressed in all the white cowry shells, beads and brass the royal treasury afforded, very earnest, very muchon inspection, every little head uplifted, singing away just as hard asever they could. Each carried a gourd of milk, a bunch of bananas, somesugarcane, yams or the like. Straight to the fire marched the pageant. Then the warriors dividing right and left, drew up facing each otherin two lines, struck their spears upright in the ground, and stood atattention. The quaint brown little women lined up to close the end ofthis hollow square, of which our group was, roughly speaking, thefourth side. Then all came to attention. The song now rose to a wildand ecstatic minor chanting. The beebees, still singing, one by one casttheir burdens between the files and at our feet in the middle of thehollow square. Then they continued their chant, singing away at the topsof their little lungs, their eyes and teeth showing, their pretty bodiesheld rigidly upright. The warriors, very erect and military, staredstraight ahead. 

And the chief? Was he the centre of the show, the important leading man, to the contemplation of whom all these glories led? Not at all! Thisparticular chief did not have the soul of a leading man, but rather thesoul of a stage manager. Quite forgetful of himself and his part in thespectacle, his brow furrowed with anxiety, he was flittering from one toanother of the performers. He listened carefully to each singer in turn, holding his hand behind his ear to catch the individual note, strikingone on the shoulder in admonition, nodding approval at another. Hedarted unexpectedly across to scrutinize a warrior, in the chance ofcatching a flicker of the eyelid even. Nary a flicker! They did theirstage manager credit, and stood like magnificent bronzes. He even ranacross to peer into our own faces to see how we liked it. 

With a sudden crescendo the music stopped. Involuntarily we brokeinto handclapping. The old boy looked a bit startled at this, but weexplained to him, and he seemed very pleased. We then accepted formallythe heap of presents, by touching them-and in turn passed over ablanket, a box of matches, and two needles, together with beads for thebeebees. Then F. , on an inspiration, produced his flashlight. This madea tremendous sensation. The women tittered and giggled and blinked asits beams were thrown directly into their eyes; the chief's sons grinnedand guffawed; the chief himself laughed like a pleased schoolboy, andseemed never to weary of the sudden shutting on and off of the switch. But the trusty Spartan warriors, standing still in their formationbehind their planted spears, were not to be shaken. They glared straightin front of them, even when we held the light within a few inches oftheir eyes, and not a muscle quivered!

"It is wonderful! wonderful!" the old man repeated. "Many Government menhave come here, but none have had anything like that! The bwanas must bevery great sultans!"

After the departure of our friends, we went rather grandly to bed. Wealways did after any one had called us sultans. 

But our prize chief was an individual named M'booley. * Our camp herealso was on a fine cleared hilltop between two streams. After we hadtraded for a while with very friendly and prosperous people M'booleycame in. He was young, tall, straight, with a beautiful smooth litheform, and his face was hawklike and cleverly intelligent. He carriedhimself with the greatest dignity and simplicity, meeting us on an easyplane of familiarity. I do not know how I can better describe his mannertoward us than to compare it to the manner the member of an exclusivegolf club would use to one who is a stranger, but evidently a guest. Hetook our quality for granted; and supposed we must do the same by him, neither acting as though he considered us "great white men, " nor yetstanding aloof and too respectful. And as the distinguishing feature ofall, he was absolutely without personal ornament. 

 * Pronounce each o separately. 

Pause for a moment to consider what a real advance in esthetic tastethat one little fact stands for. All M'booley's attendants were thegiddiest and gaudiest savages we had yet seen, with more colobus fur, sleighbells, polished metal, ostrich plumes, and red paint than wouldhave fitted out any two other royal courts of the jungle. The women toowere wealthy and opulent without limit. It takes considerable perceptionamong our civilized people to realize that severe simplicity amid ultramagnificence makes the most effective distinguishing of an individual. If you do not believe it, drop in at the next ball to which you areinvited. M'booley had fathomed this, and what was more he had thestrength of mind to act on it. Any savage loves finery for its ownsake. His hair was cut short, and shaved away at the edges to leave whatlooked like an ordinary close-fitting skull cap. He wore one pair ofplain armlets on his left upper arm and small simple ear-rings. His robewas black. He had no trace of either oil or paint, nor did he even carrya spear. 

He greeted us with good-humoured ease, and inquired conversationally ifwe wanted anything. We suggested wood and milk, whereupon stillsmiling, he uttered a few casual words in his own language to no one inparticular. There was no earthly doubt that he was chief. Three of themost gorgeous and haughty warriors ran out of camp. Shortly longfiles of women came in bringing loads of firewood; and others carryingbananas, yams, sugarcane and a sheep. Truly M'booley did things on aprincely scale. We thanked him. He accepted the thanks with a casualsmile, waved his hand and went on to talk of something else. In dueorder our M'ganga brought up one of our best trade blankets, to which weadded a half dozen boxes of matches and a razor. 

Now into camp filed a small procession: four women, four children, andtwo young men. These advanced to where M'booley was standing smokingwith great satisfaction one of B's tailor-made cigarettes. M'booleyadvanced ten feet to meet them, and brought them up to introduce themone by one in the most formal fashion. These were of course his family, and we had to confess that they "saw" N'Zahgi's outfit of ornaments and"raised" him beyond the ceiling. We gave them each in turn the handshakeof ceremony, first with the palms as we do it, and then each graspingthe other's upright thumb. The "little chiefs" were proud, aristocraticlittle fellows, holding themselves very straight and solemn. I think onewould have known them for royalty anywhere. 

It was quite a social occasion. None of our guests was in the least illat ease; in fact, the young ladies were quite coy and flirtatious. Wehad a great many jokes. Each of the little ladies received a handfulof prevailing beads. M'booley smiled benignly at these delightfulfemininities. After a time he led us to the edge of the hill and showedus his houses across the cation, perched on a flat about halfway up thewall. They were of the usual grass-thatched construction, but ratherlarger and neater than most. Examining them through the glasses we sawthat a little stream had been diverted to flow through the frontyard. M'booley waved his hand abroad and gave us to understand that heconsidered the outlook worth looking at. It was; but an appreciation ofthat fact is foreign to the average native. Next morning, when we rodeby very early, we found the little flat most attractively clearedand arranged. M'booley was out to shake us by the hand in farewell, shivering in the cold of dawn. The flirtatious and spoiled littlebeauties were not in evidence. 

One day after two very deep canyons we emerged from the forest jungleinto an up and down country of high jungle bush-brush. From the topof a ridge it looked a good deal like a northern cut-over pine countrygrown up very heavily to blackberry vines; although, of course, whenwe came nearer, the "blackberry vines" proved to be ten or twenty feethigh. This was a district of which Horne had warned us. The nativesherein were reported restless and semi-hostile; and in fact had neverbeen friendly. They probably needed the demonstration most native tribesseem to require before they are content to settle down and be happy. Atany rate safaris were not permitted in their district; and we ourselveswere allowed to go through merely because we were a large party, did notintend to linger, and had a good reputation with natives. 

It is very curious how abruptly, in Central Africa, one passes from onecondition to another, from one tribe or race to the next. Sometimes, asin the present case, it is the traversing of a deep cation; at othersthe simple crossing of a tiny brook is enough. Moreover the line ofdemarcation is clearly defined, as boundaries elsewhere are neverdefined save in wartime. 

Thus we smiled our good-bye to a friendly numerous people, descended ahill, and ascended another into a deserted track. After a half mile wecame unexpectedly on to two men carrying each a load of reeds. Thesethey abandoned and fled up the hillside through the jungle, in spite ofour shouted assurances. A moment later they reappeared at some distanceabove us, each with a spear he had snatched from somewhere; they wereunarmed when we first caught sight of them. Examined through the glassesthey proved to be sullen looking men, copper coloured, but broad acrossthe cheekbones, broad in the forehead, more decidedly of the negro typethan our late hosts. 

Aside from these two men we travelled through an apparently desertedjungle. I suspect, however, that we were probably well watched; for whenwe stopped for noon we heard the gunbearers beyond the screen of leavestalking to some one. On learning from our boys that these were some ofthe shenzis, we told them to bring the savages in for a shauri; but inthis our men failed, nor could they themselves get nearer than fiftyyards or so to the wild people. So until evening our impression remainedthat of two distant men, and the indistinct sound of voices behind aleafy screen. 

We made camp comparatively early in a wide open space surrounded by lowforest. Almost immediately then the savages commenced to drift in, very haughty and arrogant. They were fully armed. Besides the spear anddecorated shield, some of them carried the curious small grass spears. These are used to stab upward from below, the wielder lying flat in thegrass. Some of these men were fantastically painted with a groundworkochre, on which had been drawn intricate wavy designs on the legs, like stockings, and varied stripes across the face. One particularlyingenious individual, stark naked, had outlined a roughly entireskeleton! He was a gruesome object! They stalked here and there throughthe camp, looking at our men and their activities with a lofty andsilent contempt. 

You may be sure we had our arrangements, though they did not appear onthe surface. The askaris, or native soldiers, were posted here and therewith their muskets; the gunbearers also kept our spare weapons by them. The askaris could not hit a barn, but they could make a noise. Thegunbearers were fair shots. 

Of course the chief and his prime minister came in. They wereevil-looking savages. To them we paid not the slightest attention, butwent about our usual business as though they did not exist. At the endof an hour they of their own initiative greeted us. We did not hearthem. Half an hour later they disappeared, to return after an interval, followed by a string of young men bearing firewood. Evidently ourbearing had impressed them, as we had intended. We then unbent farenough to recognize them, carried on a formal conversation for a fewmoments, gave them adequate presents and dismissed them. Then we orderedthe askaris to clear camp and to keep it clear. No women had appeared. Even the gifts of firewood had been carried by men, a most unusualproceeding. 

As soon as dark fell the drums began roaring in the forest all about ourclearing, and the chanting to rise. We instructed our men to shoot firstand inquire afterward, if a shenzi so much as showed himself in theclearing. This was not as bad as it sounded; the shenzi stood in noimmediate danger. Then we turned in to a sleep rather light and brokenby uncertainty. I do not think we were in any immediate danger of aconsidered attack, for these people were not openly hostile; but therewas always a chance that the savages might by their drum pounding anddancing work themselves into a frenzy. Then we might have to do a littlerapid shooting. Not for one instant the whole night long did thosemisguided savages cease their howling and dancing. At any rate we costthem a night's sleep. 

Next morning we took up our march through the deserted tracks once more. Not a sign of human life did we encounter. About ten o'clock we climbeddown a tremendous gash of a box canyon with precipitous cliffs. Frombelow we looked back to see, perched high against the skyline, themotionless figures of many savages watching us from the crags. So we hadhad company after all, and we had not known it. This canyon proved tobe the boundary line. With the same abruptness we passed again intofriendly country. 

(d) OUT THE OTHER SIDE

We left the jungle finally when we turned on a long angle away fromKenia. At first the open country of the foothills was closely cultivatedwith fields of rape and maize. We saw some of the people breaking newsoil by means of long pointed sticks. The plowmen quite simply insertedthe pointed end in the ground and pried. It was very slow hard work. Inother fields the grain stood high and good. From among the stalks, asfrom a miniature jungle, the little naked totos stared out, and thegood-natured women smiled at us. The magnificent peak of Kenia had nowshaken itself free of the forests. On its snow the sunrises and sunsetskindled their fires. The flames of grass fires, too, could plainly bemade out, incredible distances away, and at daytime, through the reek, were fascinating suggestions of distant rivers, plains, jungles, andhills. You see, we were still practically on the wide slope of Kenia'sbase, though the peak was many days away, and so could look out overwide country. 

The last half day of this we wandered literally in a rape field. Thestalks were quite above our heads, and we could see but a few yards inany direction. In addition the track had become a footpath not over twofeet wide. We could occasionally look back to catch glimpses of a packor so bobbing along on a porter's head. From our own path hundreds ofother paths branched; we were continually taking the wrong fork andmoving back to set the safari right before it could do likewise. This wedid by drawing a deep double line in the earth across the wrong trail. Then we hustled on ahead to pioneer the way a little farther; ourdifficulties were further complicated by the fact that we had sent ourhorses back to Nairobi for fear of the tsetse fly, so we could not seeout above the corn. All we knew was that we ought to go down hill. 

At the ends of some of our false trails we came upon fascinating littlesettlements: groups of houses inside brush enclosures, with low woodengateways beneath which we had to stoop to enter. Within were groups ofbeehive houses with small naked children and perhaps an old woman or oldman seated cross-legged under a sort of veranda. From them we obtainednew-and confusing-directions. 

After three o'clock we came finally out on the edge of a cliff fifty orsixty feet high, below which lay uncultivated bottom lands like a greatmeadow and a little meandering stream. We descended the cliff, andcamped by the meandering stream. 

By this time we were fairly tired from long walking in the heat, and sowere content to sit down under our tent-fly before our little table, andlet Mahomet bring us sparklets and lime juice. Before us was the flat ofa meadow below the cliffs and the cliffs themselves. Just below the riselay a single patch of standing rape not over two acres in extent, theonly sign of human life. It was as though this little bit had overflowedfrom the countless millions on the plateau above. Beyond it arose a thinsignal of smoke. 

We sipped our lime juice and rested. Soon our attention was attractedby the peculiar actions of a big flock of very white birds. They rosesuddenly from one side of the tiny rape field, wheeled and swirled likeleaves in the wind, and dropped down suddenly on the other side thepatch. After a few moments they repeated the performance. The sun caughtthe dazzling white of their plumage. At first we speculated on whatthey might be, then on what they were doing, to behave in so peculiara manner. The lime juice and the armchair began to get in theirrecuperative work. Somehow the distance across that flat did not seemquite as tremendous as at first. Finally I picked up the shotgun andsauntered across to investigate. The cause of action I soon determined. The owner of that rape field turned out to be an emaciated, gray-hairedbut spry old savage. He was armed with a spear; and at the moment hischief business in life seemed to be chasing a large flock of white birdsoff his grain. Since he had no assistance, and since the birds held hisspear in justifiable contempt as a fowling piece, he was getting muchexercise and few results. The birds gave way before his direct charge, flopped over to the other side, and continued their meal. They hadalready occasioned considerable damage; the rape heads were bent anddestroyed for a space of perhaps ten feet from the outer edge of thefield. As this grain probably constituted the old man's food supplyfor a season, I did not wonder at the vehemence with which he shook hisspear at his enemies, nor the apparent flavour of his language, though Idid marvel at his physical endurance. As for the birds, they had becomecynical and impudent; they barely fluttered out of the way. 

I halted the old gentleman and hastened to explain that I was neither apirate, a robber, nor an oppressor of the poor. This as counter-check tohis tendency to flee, leaving me in sole charge. He understood a littleSwahili, and talked a few words of something he intended for thatlanguage. By means of our mutual accomplishment in that tongue, andthrough a more efficient sign language, I got him to understand the planof campaign. It was very simple. I squatted down inside the rape, whilehe went around the other side to scare them up. 

The white birds uttered their peculiarly derisive cackle at the old manand flapped over to my side. Then they were certainly an astonishedlot of birds. I gave them both barrels and dropped a pair; got two moreshots as they swung over me and dropped another pair, and brought down astraggling single as a grand finale. The flock, with shrill, derogatoryremarks, flew in an airline straight away. They never deviated, as faras I could follow them with the eye. Even after they had apparentlydisappeared, I could catch an occasional flash of white in the sun. 

Now the old gentleman came whooping around with long, undignified boundsto fall on his face and seize my foot in an excess of gratitude. He roseand capered about, he rushed out and gathered in the slain one by oneand laid them in a pile at my feet. Then he danced a jig-step aroundthem and reviled them, and fell on his face once more, repeating theword "Bwana! bwana! bwana!" over and over-"Master! master! master!" Wereturned to camp together, the old gentleman carrying the birds, andcapering about like a small boy, pouring forth a flood of his sort ofSwahili, of which I could understand only a word here and there. MembaSasa, very dignified and scornful of such performances, met us halfwayand took my gun. He seemed to be able to understand the old fellow'sbrand of Swahili, and said it over again in a brand I could understand. From it I gathered that I was called a marvellously great sultan, aprotector of the poor, and other Arabian Nights titles. 

The birds proved to be white egrets. Now at home I am strongly againstthe killing of these creatures, and have so expressed myself on manyoccasions. But, looking from the beautiful white plumage of thesevillainous mauraders, to the wrinkled countenance of the grateful wearyold savage, I could not fan a spark of regret. And from the straightline of their retreating flight I like to think that the rest of theflock never came back, but took their toll from the wider fields of theplateau above. 

Next day we reentered the game-haunted wilderness, nor did we see anymore native villages until many weeks later we came into the country ofthe Wakamba. 

XIX. THE TANA RIVER

Our first sight of the Tana River was from the top of a bluff. It flowedbelow us a hundred feet, bending at a sharp elbow against the cliffon which we stood. Out of the jungle it crept sluggishly and into thejungle it crept again, brown, slow, viscid, suggestive of the fevers andthe lurking beasts by which, indeed, it was haunted. From our elevationwe could follow its course by the jungle that grew along its banks. At first this was intermittent, leaving thin or even open spaces atintervals, but lower down it extended away unbroken and very tall. Thetrees were many of them beginning to come into flower. 

Either side of the jungle were rolling hills. Those to the left made upto the tremendous slopes of Kenia. Those to the right ended finally ina low broken range many miles away called the Ithanga Hills. The countrygave one the impression of being clothed with small trees; althoughhere and there this growth gave space to wide grassy plains. Later wediscovered that the forest was more apparent than real. The small trees, even where continuous, were sparse enough to permit free walking in alldirections, and open enough to allow clear sight for a hundred yards orso. Furthermore, the shallow wide valleys between the hills were almostinvariably treeless and grown to very high thick grass. 

Thus the course of the Tana possessed advantages to such as we. Byfollowing in general the course of the stream we were always certainof wood and water. The river itself was full of fish-not to speak ofhundreds of crocodiles and hippopotamuses. The thick river jungle gavecover to such animals as the bushbuck, leopard, the beautiful colobus, some of the tiny antelope, waterbuck, buffalo and rhinoceros. Amongthe thorn and acacia trees of the hillsides one was certain of impalla, eland, diks-diks, and giraffes. In the grass bottoms were lions, rhinoceroses, a half dozen varieties of buck, and thousands andthousands of game birds such as guinea fowl and grouse. On the plainsfed zebra, hartebeeste, wart-hog, ostriches, and several species of thesmaller antelope. As a sportsman's paradise this region would be hard tobeat. 

We were now afoot. The dreaded tsetse fly abounded here, and we hadsent our horses in via Fort Hall. F. Had accompanied them, and hoped torejoin us in a few days or weeks with tougher and less valuable mules. Pending his return we moved on leisurely, camping long at one spot, marching short days, searching the country far and near for the specialtrophies of which we stood in need. 

It was great fun. Generally we hunted each in his own direction andaccording to his own ideas. The jungle along the river, while not themost prolific in trophies, was by all odds the most interesting. It wasvery dense, very hot, and very shady. Often a thorn thicket would flingitself from the hills right across to the water's edge, absolutely andhopelessly impenetrable save by way of the rhinoceros tracks. Alongthese then we would slip, bent double, very quietly and gingerly, keeping a sharp lookout for the rightful owners of the trail. Againwe would wander among lofty trees through the tops of which the sunflickered on festooned serpent-like vines. Every once in a while wemanaged a glimpse of the sullen oily river through the dense leaf screenon its banks. The water looked thick as syrup, of a deadly menacinggreen. Sometimes we saw a loathsome crocodile lying with his nose justout of water, or heard the snorting blow of a hippopotamus coming up forair. Then the thicket forced us inland again. We stepped very slowly, very alertly, our ears cocked for the faintest sound, our eyes roving. Generally, of course, the creatures of the jungle saw us first. Webecame aware of them by a crash or a rustling or a scamper. Then westood stock listening with all our ears for some sound distinguishingto the species. Thus I came to recognize the queer barking note of thebushbuck, for example, and to realize how profane and vulgar that andthe beautiful creature, the impalla, can be when he forgets himself. Asfor the rhinoceros, he does not care how much noise he makes, nor howbadly he scares you. 

Personally, I liked very well to circle out in the more open countryuntil about three o'clock, then to enter the river jungle and workmy way slowly back toward camp. At that time of day the shadows werelengthening, the birds and animals were beginning to stir about. Inthe cooling nether world of shadow we slipped silently from thicketto thicket, from tree to tree; and the jungle people fled from us, orwithdrew, or gazed curiously, or cursed us as their dispositions varied. 

While thus returning one evening I saw my first colobus. He was swingingrapidly from one tree to another, his long black and white fur shiningagainst the sun. I wanted him very much, and promptly let drive at himwith the 405 Winchester. I always carried this heavier weapon in thedense jungle. Of course I missed him, but the roar of the shot sosurprised him that he came to a stand. Memba Sasa passed me theSpringfield, and I managed to get him in the head. At the shot anotherflashed into view, high up in the top of a tree. Again I aimed andfired. The beast let go and fell like a plummet. "Good shot, " said I tomyself. Fifty feet down the colobus seized a limb and went skipping awaythrough the branches as lively as ever. In a moment he stopped to lookback, and by good luck I landed him through the body. When we retrievedhim we found that the first shot had not hit him at all!

At the time I thought he must have been frightened into falling; butmany subsequent experiences showed me that this sheer let-go-all-holdsdrop is characteristic of the colobus and his mode of progression. Herarely, as far as my observation goes, leaps out and across as dothe ordinary monkeys, but prefers to progress by a series of slantingascents followed by breath-taking straight drops to lower levels. Whenclosely pressed from beneath, he will go as high as he can, and willthen conceal himself in the thick leaves. 

B. And I procured our desired number of colobus by taking advantage ofthis habit-as soon as we had learned it. Shooting the beasts with ourrifles we soon found to be not only very difficult, but also destructiveof the skins. On the other hand, a man could not, save by sheer goodfortune, rely on stalking near enough to use a shotgun. Therefore weevolved a method productive of the maximum noise, row, barked shins, thorn wounds, tumbles, bruises-and colobus! It was very simple. We tookabout twenty boys into the jungle with us, and as soon as we caughtsight of a colobus we chased him madly. That was all there was to it. 

And yet this method, simple apparently to the point of imbecility, had considerable logic back of it after all; for after a time somebodymanaged to get underneath that colobus when he was at the top of a tree. Then the beast would hide. 

Consider then a tumbling riotous mob careering through the jungle asfast as the jungle would let it, slipping, stumbling, falling flat, getting tangled hopelessly, disentangling with profane remarks, fallingbehind and catching up again, everybody yelling and shrieking. Ahead ofus we caught glimpses of the sleek bounding black and white creature, running up the long slanting limbs, and dropping like a plummet into thelower branches of the next tree. We white men never could keep up withthe best of our men at this sort of work, although in the open country Icould hold them well enough. We could see them dashing through the thickcover at a great rate of speed far ahead of us. After an interval camea great shout in chorus. By this we knew that the quarry had beendefinitely brought to a stand. Arriving at the spot we craned our headsbackward, and proceeded to get a crick in the neck trying to make outinvisible colobus in the very tops of the trees above us. For gaudilymarked beasts the colobus were extraordinarily difficult to see. Thiswas in no sense owing to any far-fetched application of protectivecolouration; but to the remarkable skill the animals possessedin concealing themselves behind apparently the scantiest and mostinadequate cover. Fortunately for us our boys' ability to see them wasequally remarkable. Indeed, the most difficult part of their task was topoint the game out to us. We squinted, and changed position, and triedhard to follow directions eagerly proffered by a dozen of the men. Finally one of us would, by the aid of six power-glasses, make out, or guess at a small tuft of white or black hair showing beyond theconcealment of a bunch of leaves. We would unlimber the shotgun and senda charge of BB into that bunch. Then down would plump the game, tothe huge and vociferous delight of all the boys. Or, as occasionallyhappened, the shot was followed merely by a shower of leaves and achorus of expostulations indicating that we had mistaken the place, andhad fired into empty air. 

In this manner we gathered the twelve we required between us. At noonwe sat under the bank, with the tangled roots of trees above us, and thesmooth oily river slipping by. You may be sure we always selected aspot protected by very shoal water, for the crocodiles were numerous. Ialways shot these loathsome creatures whenever I got a chance, wheneverthe sound of a shot would not alarm more valuable game. Generally theywere to be seen in midstream, just the tip of their snouts above water, and extraordinarily like anything but crocodiles. Often it took severalclose scrutinies through the glass to determine the brutes. Thisrequired rather nice shooting. More rarely we managed to see them on thebanks, or only half submerged. In this position, too, they were all butundistinguishable as living creatures. I think this is perhaps becauseof their complete immobility. The creatures of the woods, standing quitestill, are difficult enough to see; but I have a notion that the eye, unknown to itself, catches the sum total of little flexings of themuscles, movements of the skin, winkings, even the play of wind andlight in the hair of the coat, all of which, while impossible ofanalysis, together relieve the appearance of dead inertia. The vitalityof a creature like the crocodile, however, seems to have withdrawn intothe inner recesses of its being. It lies like a log of wood, and for alog of wood it is mistaken. 

Nevertheless the crocodile has stored in it somewhere a fearfulvitality. The swiftness of its movements when seizing prey is mostastonishing; a swirl of water, the sweep of a powerful tail, and theunfortunate victim has disappeared. For this reason it is especiallydangerous to approach the actual edge of any of the great rivers, unlessthe water is so shallow that the crocodile could not possibly approachunder cover, as is its cheerful habit. We had considerable difficulty inimpressing this elementary truth on our hill-bred totos until one day, hearing wild shrieks from the direction of the river, I rushed downto find the lot huddled together in the very middle of a sand spitthat-reached well out into the stream. Inquiry developed that whilepaddling in the shallows they had been surprised by the suddenappearance of an ugly snout and well drenched by the sweep of an eagertail. The stroke fortunately missed. We stilled the tumult, sat downquietly to wait, and at the end of ten minutes had the satisfaction ofabating that croc. 

Generally we killed the brutes where we found them and allowed them todrift away with the current. Occasionally however we wanted a piece ofhide, and then tried to retrieve them. One such occasion showed veryvividly the tenacity of life and the primitive nervous systems of thesegreat saurians. 

I discovered the beast, head out of water, in a reasonable sized poolbelow which were shallow rapids. My Springfield bullet hit him fair, whereupon he stood square on his head and waved his tail in the air, rolled over three or four times, thrashed the water, and disappeared. After waiting a while we moved on downstream. Returning four hours laterI sneaked up quietly. There the crocodile lay sunning himself on thesand bank. I supposed he must be dead; but when I accidentally broke atwig, he immediately commenced to slide off into the water. ThereuponI stopped him with a bullet in the spine. The first shot had smasheda hole in his head, just behind the eye, about the size of an ordinarycoffee cup. In spite of this wound, which would have been instantlyfatal to any warm-blooded animal, the creature was so little affectedthat it actually reacted to a slight noise made at some distance fromwhere it lay. Of course the wound would probably have been fatal in thelong run. 

The best spot to shoot at, indeed, is not the head but the spineimmediately back of the head. 

These brutes are exceedingly powerful. They are capable of taking downhorses and cattle, with no particular effort. This I know from myown observation. Mr. Fleischman, however, was privileged to seethe wonderful sight of the capture and destruction of a full-grownrhinoceros by a crocodile. The photographs he took of this mostextraordinary affair leave no room for doubt. Crossing a stream wasalways a matter of concern to us. The boys beat the surface of the watervigorously with their safari sticks. On occasion we have even let loosea few heavy bullets to stir up the pool before venturing in. 

A steep climb through thorn and brush would always extricate us from theriver jungle when we became tired of it. Then we found ourselves in acontinuous but scattered growth of small trees. Between the trunks ofthese we could see for a hundred yards or so before their numbers closedin the view. Here was the favourite haunt of numerous beautiful impalla. We caught glimpses of them, flashing through the trees; or occasionallystanding, gazing in our direction, their slender necks stretched high, their ears pointed for us. These curious ones were generally the does. The bucks were either more cautious or less inquisitive. A herd or soof eland also liked this covered country; and there were always afew waterbuck and rhinoceroses about. Often too we here encounteredstragglers from the open plains-zebra or hartebeeste, very alert andsuspicious in unaccustomed surroundings. 

A great deal of the plains country had been burned over; and aconsiderable area was still afire. The low bright flames licked theirway slowly through the grass in a narrow irregular band extendingsometimes for miles. Behind it was blackened soil, and above it rolleddense clouds of smoke. Always accompanied it thousands of birds wheelingand dashing frantically in and out of the murk, often fairly at theflames themselves. The published writings of a certain worthy andsentimental person waste much sympathy over these poor birds dashingfrenziedly about above their destroyed nests. As a matter of fact theyare taking greedy advantage of a most excellent opportunity to getinsects cheap. Thousands of the common red-billed European storkspatrolled the grass just in front of the advancing flames, or wheeledbarely above the fire. Grasshoppers were their main object, althoughapparently they never objected to any small mammals or reptiles thatcame their way. Far overhead wheeled a few thousand more assortedsoarers who either had no appetite or had satisfied it. 

The utter indifference of the animals to the advance of a bigconflagration always impressed me. One naturally pictures the beasts asfleeing wildly, nostrils distended, before the devouring element. Onthe contrary I have seen kongoni grazing quite peacefully with flames onthree sides of them. The fire seems to travel rather slowly in the toughgrass; although at times and for a short distance it will leap to a wildand roaring life. Beasts will then lope rapidly away to right or left, but without excitement. 

On these open plains we were more or less pestered with ticks ofvarious sizes. These clung to the grass blades; but with no invinciblepreference for that habitat; trousers did them just as well. Then theyascended looking for openings. They ranged in size from little red onesas small as the period of a printed page to big patterned fellows thesize of a pea. The little ones were much the most abundant. At timesI have had the front of my breeches so covered with them that theirnumbers actually imparted a reddish tinge to the surface of the cloth. This sounds like exaggeration, but it is a measured statement. Theprocess of de-ticking (new and valuable word) can then be done only byscraping with the back of a hunting knife. 

Some people, of tender skin, are driven nearly frantic by these pests. Others, of whom I am thankful to say I am one, get off comparativelyeasy. In a particularly bad tick country, one generally appoints one ofthe youngsters as "tick toto. " It is then his job in life to de-tickany person or domestic animal requiring his services. His is a busyexistence. But though at first the nuisance is excessive, one becomesaccustomed to it in a remarkably short space of time. The adaptabilityof the human being is nowhere better exemplified. After a time one getsso that at night he can remove a marauding tick and cast it forth intothe darkness without even waking up. Fortunately ticks are localin distribution. Often one may travel weeks or months without thisinfliction. 

I was always interested and impressed to observe how indifferent thewild animals seem to be to these insects. Zebra, rhinoceros and giraffeseem to be especially good hosts. The loathsome creatures fastenthemselves in clusters wherever they can grip their fangs. Thus ina tick country a zebra's ears, the lids and corners of his eyes, hisnostrils and lips, the soft skin between his legs and body, and betweenhis hind legs, and under his tail are always crusted with ticks asthick as they can cling. One would think the drain on vitality would beenormous, but the animals are always plump and in condition. Thesame state of affairs obtains with the other two beasts named. Thehartebeeste also carries ticks but not nearly in the same abundance;while such creatures as the waterbuck, impalla, gazelles and the smallerbucks seem either to be absolutely free from the pests, or to have avery few. Whether this is because such animals take the trouble to ridthemselves, or because they are more immune from attack it would bedifficult to say. I have found ticks clinging to the hair of lions, butnever fastened to the flesh. It is probable that they had been brushedoff from the grass in passing. Perhaps ticks do not like lions, waterbuck, Tommies, et al. , or perhaps only big coarse-grained commonbrutes like zebra and rhinos will stand them at all. 

XX. DIVERS ADVENTURES ALONG THE TANA

Late one afternoon I shot a wart-hog in the tall grass. The beast was anunusually fine specimen, so I instructed Fundi and the porters to takethe head, and myself started for camp with Memba Sasa. I had gone notover a hundred yards when I was recalled by wild and agonized appeals of"Bwana! bwana!" The long-legged Fundi was repeatedly leaping straightup in the air to an astonishing height above the long grass, curlinghis legs up under him at each jump, and yelling like a steam-engine. Returning promptly, I found that the wart-hog had come to life at thefirst prick of the knife. He was engaged in charging back and forth inan earnest effort to tusk Fundi, and the latter was jumping high in anequally earnest effort to keep out of the way. Fortunately he provedagile enough to do so until I planted another bullet in the aggressor. 

These wart-hogs are most comical brutes from whatever angle one viewsthem. They have a patriarchal, self-satisfied, suburban manner ofcomplete importance. The old gentleman bosses his harem outrageously, and each and every member of the tribe walks about with short steps anda stuffy parvenu small-town self-sufficiency. One is quite certain thatit is only by accident that they have long tusks and live in Africa, instead of rubber-plants and self-made business and a pug-dog withincommuters' distance of New York. But at the slightest alarm this swollenand puffy importance breaks down completely. Away they scurry, theirtails held stiffly and straightly perpendicular, their short legsscrabbling the small stones in a frantic effort to go faster than naturehad intended them to go. Nor do they cease their flight at a reasonabledistance, but keep on going over hill and dale, until they fairly vanishin the blue. I used to like starting them off this way, just for thesake of contrast, and also for the sake of the delicious but impossiblevision of seeing their human prototypes do likewise. 

When a wart-hog is at home, he lives down a hole. Of course it has tobe a particularly large hole. He turns around and backs down it. Nomore peculiar sight can be imagined than the sardonically toothsomecountenance of a wart-hog fading slowly in the dimness of a deep burrow, a good deal like Alice's Cheshire Cat. Firing a revolver, preferablywith smoky black powder, just in front of the hole annoys the wart-hogexceedingly. Out he comes full tilt, bent on damaging some one, and ittakes quick shooting to prevent his doing so. 

Once, many hundreds of miles south of the Tana, and many months later, we were riding quite peaceably through the country, when we werestartled by the sound of a deep and continuous roaring in a small brushpatch to our left. We advanced cautiously to a prospective lion, onlyto discover that the roaring proceeded from the depths of a wart-hogburrow. The reverberation of our footsteps on the hollow ground hadalarmed him. He was a very nervous wart-hog. 

On another occasion, when returning to camp from a solitary walk, I sawtwo wart-hogs before they saw me. I made no attempt to conceal myself, but stood absolutely motionless. They fed slowly nearer and nearer untilat last they were not over twenty yards away. When finally they mademe out, their indignation and amazement and utter incredulity were veryfunny. In fact, they did not believe in me at all for some few snortymoments. Finally they departed, their absurd tails stiff upright. 

One afternoon F. And I, hunting along one of the wide grass bottomlands, caught sight of a herd of an especially fine impalla. The animalswere feeding about fifty yards the other side of a small solitary bush, and the bush grew on the sloping bank of the slight depressionthat represented the dry stream bottom. We could duck down into thedepression, sneak along it, come up back of the little bush, and shootfrom very close range. Leaving the gunbearers, we proceeded to do this. 

So quietly did we move that when we rose up back of the little bush alioness lying under it with her cub was as surprised as we were!

Indeed, I do not think she knew what we were, for instead of attacking, she leaped out the other side the bush, uttering a startled snarl. Atonce she whirled to come at us, but the brief respite had allowed usto recover our own scattered wits. As she turned I caught her broadsidethrough the heart. Although this shot knocked her down, F. Immediatelyfollowed it with another for safety's sake. We found that actually wehad just missed stepping on her tail!

The cub we caught a glimpse of. He was about the size of a setter dog. We tried hard to find him, but failed. The lioness was an unusuallylarge one, probably about as big as the female ever grows, measuringnine feet six inches in length, and three feet eight inches tail at theshoulder. 

Billy had her funny times housekeeping. The kitchen department neverquite ceased marvelling at her. Whenever she went to the cook-camp todeliver her orders she was surrounded by an attentive and respectfulaudience. One day, after holding forth for some time in Swahili, shefound that she had been standing hobnailed on one of the boy's feet. 

"Why, Mahomet!" she cried. "That must hurt you! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Memsahib, " he smiled politely, "I think perhaps you move some time!"

On another occasion she was trying to tell the cook, through Mahometas interpreter, that she wanted a tough old buffalo steak pounded, boarding-house style. This evidently puzzled all hands. They turnedto in an earnest discussion of what it was all about, anyway. Billyunderstood Swahili well enough at that time to gather that they couldnot understand the Memsahib's wanting the meat "kibokoed"-FLOGGED. Wasit a religious rite, or a piece of revenge? They gave it up. 

"All right, " said Mahomet patiently at last. "He say he do it. WHICH ONEIS IT?"

Part of our supplies comprised tins of dehydrated fruit. One eveningBilly decided to have a grand celebration, so she passed out atin marked "rhubarb" and some cornstarch, together with suitableinstructions for a fruit pudding. In a little while the cook returned. 

"Nataka m'tund-I want fruit, " said he. 

Billy pointed out, severely, that he already had fruit. He went awayshaking his head. Evening and the pudding came. It looked good, and wecongratulated Billy on her culinary enterprise. Being hungry, we tookbig mouthfuls. There followed splutterings and investigations. Therhubarb can proved to be an old one containing heavy gun grease!

When finally we parted with our faithful cook we bought him a reallywonderful many bladed knife as a present. On seeing it he slumped to theground-six feet of lofty dignity-and began to weep violently, rockingback and forth in an excess of grief. 

"Why, what is it?" we inquired, alarmed. 

"Oh, Memsahib!" he wailed, the tears coursing down his cheeks, "I wanteda watch!"

One morning about nine o'clock we were riding along at the edge of agrass-grown savannah, with a low hill to our right and another aboutfour hundred yards ahead. Suddenly two rhinoceroses came to their feetsome fifty yards to our left out in the high grass, and stood lookinguncertainly in our direction. 

"Look out! Rhinos!" I warned instantly. 

"Why-why!" gasped Billy in an astonished tone of voice, "they havemanes!"

In some concern for her sanity I glanced in her direction. She wasstaring, not to her left, but straight ahead. I followed the directionof her gaze, to see three lions moving across the face of the hill. 

Instantly we dropped off our horses. We wanted a shot at thoselions very much indeed, but were hampered in our efforts by thetwo rhinoceroses, now stamping, snorting, and moving slowly in ourdirection. The language we muttered was racy, but we dropped to akneeling position and opened fire on the disappearing lions. It wasmost distinctly a case of divided attention, one eye on those menacingrhinos, and one trying to attend to the always delicate operation ofaligning sights and signalling from a rather distracted brain just whento pull the trigger. Our faithful gunbearers crouched by us, the heavyguns ready. 

One rhino seemed either peaceable or stupid. He showed no inclinationeither to attack or to depart, but was willing to back whatever play hisfriend might decide on. The friend charged toward us until we began tothink he meant battle, stopped, thought a moment, and then, followed byhis companion, trotted slowly across our bows about eighty yards away, while we continued our long range practice at the lions over theirbacks. 

In this we were not winning many cigars. F. Had a 280-calibre rifleshooting the Ross cartridge through the much advertised grooveless ovalbore. It was little accurate beyond a hundred yards. Memba Sasa hadthrust the 405 into my hand, knowing it for the "lion gun, " and keptjust out of reach with the long-range Springfield. I had no time toargue the matter with him. The 405 has a trajectory like a rainbowat that distance, and I was guessing at it, and not making very goodguesses either. B. Had his Springfield and made closer practice, finallyhitting a leg of one of the beasts. We saw him lift his paw and shakeit, but he did not move lamely afterward, so the damage was probablyconfined to a simple scrape. It was a good shot anyway. Then theydisappeared over the top of the hill. 

We walked forward, regretting rhinos. Thirty yards ahead of me came athunderous and roaring growl, and a magnificent old lion reared his headfrom a low bush. He evidently intended mischief, for I could see histail switching. However, B. Had killed only one lion and I wanted verymuch to give him the shot. Therefore, I held the front sight on themiddle of his chest, and uttered a fervent wish to myself that B. Wouldhurry up. In about ten seconds the muzzle of his rifle poked over myshoulder, so I resigned the job. 

At B. 's shot the lion fell over, but was immediately up and trying toget at us. Then we saw that his hind quarters were paralyzed. He wasa most magnificent sight as he reared his fine old head, roaring at usfull mouthed so that the very air trembled. Billy had a good look at alion in action. B. Took up a commanding position on an ant hill to oneside with his rifle levelled. F. And I advanced slowly side by side. At twelve feet from the wounded beast stopped, F. Unlimbered the kodak, while I held the bead of the 405 between the lion's eyes, ready to presstrigger at the first forward movement, however slight. Thus we tookseveral exposures in the two cameras. Unfortunately one of the camerasfell in the river the next day. The other contained but one exposure. While not so spectacular as some of those spoiled, it shows very wellthe erect mane, the wicked narrowing of the eyes, the flattening of theears of an angry lion. You must imagine, furthermore, the deep rumblingdiapason of his growling. 

We backed away, and B. Put in the finishing shot. The first bullet, we then found, had penetrated the kidneys, thus inflicting a temporaryparalysis. 

When we came to skin him we found an old-fashioned lead bullet betweenthe bones of his right forepaw. The entrance wound had so entirelyhealed over that hardly the trace of a scar remained. From what I knowof the character of these beasts, I have no doubt that this ancientinjury furnished the reason for his staying to attack us instead ofdeparting with the other three lions over the hill. 

Following the course of the river, we one afternoon came around a bendon a huge herd of mixed game that had been down to water. The river, a quite impassable barrier lay to our right, and an equally impassableprecipitous ravine barred their flight ahead. They were forced to crossour front, quite close, within the hundred yards. We stopped to watchthem go, a seemingly endless file of them, some very much frightened, bounding spasmodically as though stung; others more philosophical, loping easily and unconcernedly; still others to a few-even stopping fora moment to get a good view of us. The very young creatures, as always, bounced along absolutely stiff-legged, exactly like wooden animalssuspended by an elastic, touching the ground and rebounding high, without a bend of the knee nor an apparent effort of the muscles. Young animals seem to have to learn how to bend their legs for the mostefficient travel. The same is true of human babies as well. In this herdwere, we estimated, some four or five hundred beasts. 

While hunting near the foothills I came across the body of a large eaglesuspended by one leg from the crotch of a limb. The bird's talon hadmissed its grip, probably on alighting, the tarsus had slipped throughthe crotch beyond the joint, the eagle had fallen forward, and had neverbeen able to flop itself back to an upright position!

XXI. THE RHINOCEROS

The rhinoceros is, with the giraffe, the hippopotamus, the gerenuk, andthe camel, one of Africa's unbelievable animals. Nobody has betteredKipling's description of him in the Just-so Stories: "A horn on hisnose, piggy eyes, and few manners. " He lives a self-centred life, wrapped up in the porcine contentment that broods within nor looksabroad over the land. When anything external to himself and his foodand drink penetrates to his intelligence he makes a flurried fool ofhimself, rushing madly and frantically here and there in a hystericaleffort either to destroy or get away from the cause of disturbance. Heis the incarnation of a living and perpetual Grouch. 

Generally he lives by himself, sometimes with his spouse, more rarelystill with a third that is probably a grown-up son or daughter. Ipersonally have never seen more than three in company. Some observershave reported larger bands, or rather collections, but, lacking otherevidence, I should be inclined to suspect that some circumstances offood or water rather than a sense of gregariousness had attracted anumber of individuals to one locality. 

The rhinoceros has three objects in life: to fill his stomach with foodand water, to stand absolutely motionless under a bush, and to imitateant hills when he lies down in the tall grass. When disturbed at anyof these occupations he snorts. The snort sounds exactly as though thesafety valve of a locomotive had suddenly opened and as suddenly shutagain after two seconds of escaping steam. Then he puts his head downand rushes madly in some direction, generally upwind. As he weighsabout two tons, and can, in spite of his appearance, get over the groundnearly as fast as an ordinary horse, he is a truly imposing sight, especially since the innocent bystander generally happens to be upwind, and hence in the general path of progress. This is because the rhino'sscent is his keenest sense, and through it he becomes aware, in themajority of times, of man's presence. His sight is very poor indeed; hecannot see clearly even a moving object much beyond fifty yards. He can, however, hear pretty well. 

The novice, then, is subjected to what he calls a "vicious charge" onthe part of the rhinoceros, merely because his scent was borne to thebeast from upwind, and the rhino naturally runs away upwind. He opensfire, and has another thrilling adventure to relate. As a matter offact, if he had approached from the other side, and then aroused theanimal with a clod of earth, the beast would probably have "charged"away in identically the same direction. I am convinced from a fairlyvaried experience that this is the basis for most of the thrillingexperiences with rhinoceroses. 

But whatever the beast's first mental attitude, the danger is quitereal. In the beginning he rushes, upwind in instinctive reaction againstthe strange scent. If he catches sight of the man at all, it must beafter he has approached to pretty close range, for only at close rangeare the rhino's eyes effective. Then he is quite likely to finish whatwas at first a blind dash by a genuine charge. Whether this is frommalice or from the panicky feeling that he is now too close to attemptto get away, I never was able determine. It is probably in the majorityof cases the latter. This seems indicated by the fact that the rhino, ifavoided in his first rush, will generally charge right through and keepon going. Occasionally, however, he will whirl and come back to theattack. There can then be no doubt that he actually intends mischief. 

Nor must it be forgotten that with these animals, AS WITH ALL OTHERS, not enough account is taken of individual variation. They, as well asman, and as well as other animals, have their cowards, their fighters, their slothful and their enterprising. And, too, there seem to betruculent and peaceful districts. North of Mt. Kenia, between that peakand the Northern Guaso Nyero River, we saw many rhinos, none of whichshowed the slightest disposition to turn ugly. In fact, they were sopeaceful that they scrabbled off as fast as they could go every timethey either scented, heard, or SAW us; and in their flight they heldtheir noses up, not down. In the wide angle between the Tana and Thikarivers, and comprising the Yatta Plains, and in the thickets of theTsavo, the rhinoceroses generally ran nose down in a position of attackand were much inclined to let their angry passions master them at thesight of man. Thus we never had our safari scattered by rhinocerosesin the former district, while in the latter the boys were up trees sixtimes in the course of one morning! Carl Akeley, with a moving picturemachine, could not tease a charge out of a rhino in a dozen tries, whileDugmore, in a different part of the country, was so chivied about thathe finally left the district to avoid killing any more of the brutes inself-defence!

The fact of the matter is that the rhinoceros is neither animated by theimplacable man-destroying passion ascribed to him by the amateur hunter, nor is he so purposeless and haphazard in his rushes as some would haveus believe. On being disturbed his instinct is to get away. He generallytries to get away in the direction of the disturbance, or upwind, as thecase may be. If he catches sight of the cause of disturbance he is aptto try to trample and gore it, whatever it is. As his sight is short, he will sometimes so inflict punishment on unoffending bushes. In doingthis he is probably not animated by a consuming destructive blind rage, but by a naturally pugnacious desire to eliminate sources of annoyance. Missing a definite object, he thunders right through and disappearswithout trying again to discover what has aroused him. 

This first rush is not a charge in the sense that it is an attack on adefinite object. It may not, and probably will not, amount to a chargeat all, for the beast will blunder through without ever defining moreclearly the object of his blind dash. That dash is likely, however, atany moment, to turn into a definite charge should the rhinoceros happento catch sight of his disturber. Whether the impelling motive would thenbe a mistaken notion that on the part of the beast he was so close hehad to fight, or just plain malice, would not matter. At such times theintended victim is not interested in the rhino's mental processes. 

Owing to his size, his powerful armament, and his incredible quicknessthe rhinoceros is a dangerous animal at all times, to be treated withrespect and due caution. This is proved by the number of white men, out of a sparse population, that are annually tossed and killed by thebrutes, and by the promptness with which the natives take to trees-thorntrees at that!-when the cry of faru! is raised. As he comes rushing inyour direction, head down and long weapon pointed, tail rigidly erect, ears up, the earth trembling with his tread and the air with his snorts, you suddenly feel very small and ineffective. 

If you keep cool, however, it is probable that the encounter willresult only in a lot of mental perturbation for the rhino and a bitof excitement for yourself. If there is any cover you should duck downbehind it and move rapidly but quietly to one side or another of theline of advance. If there is no cover, you should crouch low and holdstill. The chances are he will pass to one side or the other of you, andgo snorting away into the distance. Keep your eye on him very closely. If he swerves definitely in your direction, AND DROPS HIS HEAD A LITTLELOWER, it would be just as well to open fire. Provided the beast wasstill far enough away to give me "sea-room, " I used to put a smallbullet in the flesh of the outer part of the shoulder. The wound thusinflicted was not at all serious, but the shock of the bullet usuallyturned the beast. This was generally in the direction of the woundedshoulder, which would indicate that the brute turned toward the apparentsource of the attack, probably for the purpose of getting even. Atany rate, the shot turned the rush to one side, and the rhinoceros, asusual, went right on through. If, however, he seemed to mean business, or was too close for comfort, the point to aim for was the neck justabove the lowered horn. 

In my own experience I came to establish a "dead line" about twentyyards from myself. That seemed to be as near as I cared to let thebrutes come. Up to that point I let them alone on the chance that theymight swerve or change their minds, as they often did. But inside oftwenty yards, whether the rhinoceros meant to charge me, or was merelyrunning blindly by, did not particularly matter. Even in the latter casehe might happen to catch sight of me and change his mind. Thus, looking over my notebook records, I find that I was "charged" forty oddtimes-that is to say, the rhinoceros rushed in my general direction. Ofthis lot I can be sure of but three, and possibly four, that certainlymeant mischief. Six more came so directly at us, and continued so tocome, that in spite of ourselves we were compelled to kill them. Therest were successfully dodged. 

As I have heard old hunters of many times my experience, affirm thatonly in a few instances have they themselves been charged indubitablyand with malice aforethought, it might be well to detail my reasons forbelieving myself definitely and not blindly attacked. 

The first instance was that when B. Killed his second trophy rhinoceros. The beast's companion refused to leave the dead body for a long time, but finally withdrew. On our approaching, however, and after we hadbeen some moments occupied with the trophy, it returned and chargedviciously. It was finally killed at fifteen yards. 

The second instance was of a rhinoceros that got up from the grasssixty yards away, and came headlong in my direction. At the moment Iwas standing on the edge of a narrow eroded ravine, ten feet deep, withperpendicular sides. The rhinoceros came on bravely to the edge of thisravine-and stopped. Then he gave an exhibition of unmitigated bad tempermost amusing to contemplate-from my safe position. He snorted, andstamped, and pawed the earth, and tramped up and down at a great rate. I sat on the opposite bank and laughed at him. This did not please hima bit, but after many short rushes to the edge of the ravine, he gaveit up and departed slowly, his tail very erect and rigid. From thepersistency with which he tried to get at me, I cannot but think heintended something of the sort from the first. 

The third instance was much more aggravating. In company with Memba Sasaand Fundi I left camp early one morning to get a waterbuck. Four or fivehundred yards out, however, we came on fresh buffalo signs, not an hourold. To one who knew anything of buffaloes' habits this seemed like anexcellent chance, for at this time of the morning they should be feedingnot far away preparatory to seeking cover for the day. Therefore weimmediately took up the trail. 

It led us over hills, through valleys, high grass, burned country, brush, thin scrub, and small woodland alternately. Unfortunately we hadhappened on these buffalo just as they were about changing district, andthey were therefore travelling steadily. At times the trail was easy tofollow and at other times we had to cast about very diligently tofind traces of the direction even such huge animals had taken. It wasinteresting work, however, and we drew on steadily, keeping a sharplookout ahead in case the buffalo had come to a halt in some shadythicket out of the sun. As the latter ascended the heavens and thescorching heat increased, our confidence in nearing our quarryascended likewise, for we knew that buffaloes do not like great heat. Nevertheless this band continued straight on its way. I think now theymust have got scent of our camp, and had therefore decided to move toone of the alternate and widely separated feeding grounds every herdkeeps in its habitat. Only at noon, and after six hours of steadytrailing, covering perhaps a dozen miles, did we catch them up. 

From the start we had been bothered with rhinoceroses. Five times didwe encounter them, standing almost squarely on the line of the spoor wewere following. Then we had to make a wide quiet circle to leeward inorder to avoid disturbing them, and were forced to a very minute searchin order to pick up the buffalo tracks again on the other side. This wasat once an anxiety and a delay, and we did not love those rhino. 

Finally, at the very edge of the Yatta Plains we overtook the herd, resting for noon in a scattered thicket. Leaving Fundi, I, with MembaSasa, stalked down to them. We crawled and crept by inches flat to theground, which was so hot that it fairly burned the hand. The sun beatdown on us fiercely, and the air was close and heavy even among thescanty grass tufts in which we were trying to get cover. It was veryhard work indeed, but after a half hour of it we gained a thin bush notover thirty yards from a half dozen dark and indeterminate bodies dozingin the very centre of a brush patch. Cautiously I wiped the sweatfrom my eyes and raised my glasses. It was slow work and patient work, picking out and examining each individual beast from the mass. Finallythe job was done. I let fall my glasses. 

"Monumookee y'otey-all cows, " I whispered to Memba Sasa. 

We backed out of there inch by inch, with intention of circling a shortdistance to the leeward, and then trying the herd again lower down. Butsome awkward slight movement, probably on my part, caught the eye ofone of those blessed cows. She threw up her head; instantly the wholethicket seemed alive with beasts. We could hear them crashing andstamping, breaking the brush, rushing headlong and stopping again; wecould even catch momentary glimpses of dark bodies. After a few minuteswe saw the mass of the herd emerge from the thicket five hundred yardsaway and flow up over the hill. There were probably a hundred and fiftyof them, and, looking through my glasses, I saw among them two fine oldbulls. They were of course not much alarmed, as only the one cow knewwhat it was all about anyway, and I suspected they would stop at thenext thicket. 

We had only one small canteen of water with us, but we divided that. Itprobably did us good, but the quantity was not sufficient to touch ourthirst. For the remainder of the day we suffered rather severely, as thesun was fierce. 

After a short interval we followed on after the buffaloes. Within a halfmile beyond the crest of the hill over which they had disappearedwas another thicket. At the very edge of the thicket, asleep under anoutlying bush, stood one of the big bulls!

Luck seemed with us at last. The wind was right, and between us and thebull lay only four hundred yards of knee-high grass. All we had todo was to get down on our hands and knees, and, without furtherprecautions, crawl up within range and pot him. That meant only a bit ofhard, hot work. 

When we were about halfway a rhinoceros suddenly arose from the grassbetween us and the buffalo, and about one hundred yards away. 

What had aroused him, at that distance and upwind, I do not know. Ithardly seemed possible that he could have heard us, for we were movingvery quietly, and, as I say, we were downwind. However, there he wason his feet, sniffing now this way, now that, in search for what hadalarmed him. We sank out of sight and lay low, fully expecting that thebrute would make off. 

For just twenty-five minutes by the watch that rhinoceros looked andlooked deliberately in all directions while we lay hidden waiting forhim to get over it. Sometimes he would start off quite confidently forfifty or sixty yards, so that we thought at last we were rid of him, butalways he returned to the exact spot where we had first seen him, there to stamp, and blow. The buffalo paid no attention to thesemanifestations. I suppose everybody in jungleland is accustomed torhinoceros bad temper over nothing. Twice he came in our direction, butboth times gave it up after advancing twenty-five yards or so. We layflat on our faces, the vertical sun slowly roasting us, and cursed thatrhino. 

Now the significance of this incident is twofold: first, the fact that, instead of rushing off at the first intimation of our presence, as wouldthe average rhino, he went methodically to work to find us; second, thathe displayed such remarkable perseverance as to keep at it nearly ahalf hour. This was a spirit quite at variance with that finding itsexpression in the blind rush or in the sudden passionate attack. Fromthat point of view it seems to me that the interest and significance ofthe incident can hardly be overstated. 

Four or five times we thought ourselves freed of the nuisance, butalways, just as we were about to move on, back he came, as eager as everto nose us out. Finally he gave it up, and, at a slow trot, started togo away from there. And out of the three hundred and sixty degrees ofthe circle where he might have gone he selected just our direction. Notethat this was downwind for him, and that rhinoceroses usually escapeupwind. 

We laid very low, hoping that, as before, he would change his mind as todirection. But now he was no longer looking, but travelling. Nearerand nearer he came. We could see plainly his little eyes, and hearthe regular swish, swish, swish of his thick legs brushing through thegrass. The regularity of his trot never varied, but to me lying theredirectly in his path, he seemed to be coming on altogether too fastfor comfort. From our low level he looked as big as a barn. Memba Sasatouched me lightly on the leg. I hated to shoot, but finally when heloomed fairly over us I saw it must be now or never. If I allowed him tocome closer, he must indubitably catch the first movement of my gunand so charge right on us before I would have time to deliver even anineffective shot. Therefore, most reluctantly, I placed the ivory beadof the great Holland gun just to the point of his shoulder and pulledthe trigger. So close was he that as he toppled forward I instinctively, though unnecessarily of course, shrank back as though he might fall onme. Fortunately I had picked my spot properly, and no second shot wasnecessary. He fell just twenty-seven feet-nine yards--from where we lay!

The buffalo vanished into the blue. We were left with a dead rhino, which we did not want, twelve miles from camp, and no water. It wasa hard hike back, but we made it finally, though nearly perished fromthirst. 

This beast, be it noted, did not charge us at all, but I consider himas one of the three undoubtedly animated by hostile intentions. Of theothers I can, at this moment, remember five that might or might not havebeen actually and maliciously charging when they were killed or dodged. I am no mind reader for rhinoceros. Also I am willing to believe intheir entirely altruistic intentions. Only, if they want to get thepractical results of their said altruistic intentions they must reallyrefrain from coming straight at me nearer than twenty yards. It has beenstated that if one stands perfectly still until the rhinoceros is justsix feet away, and then jumps sideways, the beast will pass him. I neverhappened to meet anybody who had acted on this theory. I suppose thatsuch exist: though I doubt if any persistent exponent of the art islikely to exist long. Personally I like my own method, and stoutlymaintain that within twenty yards it is up to the rhinoceros to begin todo the dodging. 

XXII. THE RHINOCEROS-(continued)

At first the traveller is pleased and curious over rhinoceros. After hehas seen and encountered eight or ten, he begins to look upon them asan unmitigated nuisance. By the time he has done a week in thickrhino-infested scrub he gets fairly to hating them. 

They are bad enough in the open plains, where they can be seen andavoided, but in the tall grass or the scrub they are a continuousanxiety. No cover seems small enough to reveal them. Often they willstand or lie absolutely immobile until you are within a very shortdistance, and then will outrageously break out. They are, in spite oftheir clumsy build, as quick and active as polo ponies, and are theonly beasts I know of capable of leaping into full speed ahead from arecumbent position. In thorn scrub they are the worst, for there, nomatter how alert the traveller may hold himself, he is likely to comearound a bush smack on one. And a dozen times a day the throat-stopping, abrupt crash and smash to right or left brings him up all standing, hisheart racing, the blood pounding through his veins. It is jumpy work, and is very hard on the temper. In the natural reaction from beingstartled into fits one snaps back to profanity. The cumulative effectsof the epithets hurled after a departing and inconsiderately hastyrhinoceros may have done something toward ruining the temper of thespecies. It does not matter whether or not the individual beast provesdangerous; he is inevitably most startling. I have come in at nightwith my eyes fairly aching from spying for rhinos during a day's journeythrough high grass. 

And, as a friend remarked, rhinos are such a mussy death. One poor chap, killed while we were away on our first trip, could not be moved fromthe spot where he had been trampled. A few shovelfuls of earth over theremains was all the rhinoceros had left possible. 

Fortunately, in the thick stuff especially, it is often possible toavoid the chance rhinoceros through the warning given by the rhinocerosbirds. These are birds about the size of a robin that accompany thebeast everywhere. They sit in a row along his back occupying themselveswith ticks and a good place to roost. Always they are peaceful and quietuntil a human being approaches. Then they flutter a few feet into theair uttering a peculiar rapid chattering. Writers with more sentimentthan sense of proportion assure us that this warns the rhinoceros ofapproaching danger! On the contrary, I always looked at it the otherway. The rhinoceros birds thereby warned ME of danger, and I was dulythankful. 

The safari boys stand quite justly in a holy awe of the rhino. Thesafari is strung out over a mile or two of country, as a usual thing, and a downwind rhino is sure to pierce some part of the line in hisrush. Then down go the loads with a smash, and up the nearest treesswarm the boys. Usually their refuges are thorn trees, armed, even onthe main trunk, with long sharp spikes. There is no difficulty in goingup, but the gingerly coming down, after all the excitement has died, isa matter of deliberation and of voices uplifted in woe. Cuninghame tellsof an inadequate slender and springy, but solitary, sapling into whichswarmed half his safari on the advent of a rambunctious rhino. The treeswayed and bent and cracked alarmingly, threatening to dump the wholelot on the ground. At each crack the boys yelled. This attracted therhinoceros, which immediately charged the tree full tilt. He hit square, the tree shivered and creaked, the boys wound their arms and legs aroundthe slender support and howled frantically. Again and again rhinocerosdrew back to repeat his butting of that tree. By the time Cuninghamereached the spot, the tree, with its despairing burden of black birds, was clinging to the soil by its last remaining roots. 

In the Nairobi Club I met a gentleman with one arm gone at the shoulder. He told his story in a slightly bored and drawling voice, pickinghis words very carefully, and evidently most occupied with neitherunderstating nor overstating the case. It seems he had been out, and hadkilled some sort of a buck. While his men were occupied with this, hestrolled on alone to see what he could find. He found a rhinoceros, thatcharged viciously, and into which he emptied his gun. 

"When I came to, " he said, "it was just coming on dusk, and the lionswere beginning to grunt. My arm was completely crushed, and I was badlybruised and knocked about. As near as I could remember I was fully tenmiles from camp. A circle of carrion birds stood all about me not morethan ten feet away, and a great many others were flapping over me andfighting in the air. These last were so close that I could feel the windfrom their wings. It was rawther gruesome. " He paused and thought a amoment, as though weighing his words. "In fact, " he added with an air offinal conviction, "it was QUITE gruesome!"

The most calm and imperturbable rhinoceros I ever saw was one that madeus a call on the Thika River. It was just noon, and our boys were makingcamp after a morning's march. The usual racket was on, and the usualvaried movement of rather confused industry. Suddenly silence fell. We came out of the tent to see the safari gazing spellbound in onedirection. There was a rhinoceros wandering peaceably over the littleknoll back of camp, and headed exactly in our direction. While wewatched, he strolled through the edge of camp, descended the steep bankto the river's edge, drank, climbed the bank, strolled through campagain and departed over the hill. To us he paid not the slightestattention. It seems impossible to believe that he neither scented norsaw any evidences of human life in all that populated flat, especiallywhen one considers how often these beasts will SEEM to become aware ofman's presence by telepathy. * Perhaps he was the one exception to thewhole race, and was a good-natured rhino. 

 * Opposing theories are those of "instinct, " and of slight causes, such a grasshoppers leaping before the hunter's feet, not noticed by the man approaching. 

The babies are astonishing and amusing creatures, with blunt noses onwhich the horns are just beginning to form, and with even fewer mannersthan their parents. The mere fact of an 800-pound baby does not ceaseto be curious. They are truculent little creatures, and sometimes ratherhard to avoid when they get on the warpath. Generally, as far as myobservation goes, the mother gives birth to but one at a time. There maybe occasional twin births, but I happen never to have met so interestinga family. 

Rhinoceroses are still very numerous-too numerous. I have seen as manyas fourteen in two hours, and probably could have found as many moreif I had been searching for them. There is no doubt, however, that thisspecies must be the first to disappear of the larger African animals. His great size combined with his 'orrid 'abits mark him for earlydestruction. No such dangerous lunatic can be allowed at large in asettled country, nor in a country where men are travelling constantly. The species will probably be preserved in appropriate restrictedareas. It would be a great pity to have so perfect an example of thePrehistoric Pinhead wiped out completely. Elsewhere he will diminish, and finally disappear. 

For one thing, and for one thing only, is the traveller indebted to therhinoceros. The beast is lazy, large, and has an excellent eye for easyways through. For this reason, as regards the question of good roads, hecombines the excellent qualities of Public Sentiment, the Steam Roller, and the Expert Engineer. Through thorn thickets impenetrable to anythingless armoured than a Dreadnaught like himself he clears excellentpaths. Down and out of eroded ravines with perpendicular sides he makesexcellent wide trails, tramped hard, on easy grades, often with zigzagsto ease the slant. In some of the high country where the torrentialrains wash hundreds of such gullies across the line of march itis hardly an exaggeration to say that travel would be practicallyimpossible without the rhino trails wherewith to cross. Sometimes theperpendicular banks will extend for miles without offering any naturalbreak down to the stream-bed. Since this is so I respectfully submit toGovernment the following proposal:

(a) That a limited number of these beasts shall be licensed as TrailRhinos; and that all the rest shall be killed from the settled andregularly travelled districts. 

(b) That these Trail Rhinos shall be suitably hobbled by short steelchains. 

(c) That each Trail Rhino shall carry painted conspicuously on his sidehis serial number. 

(d) That as a further precaution for public safety each Trail Rhinoshall carry firmly attached to his tail a suitable red warning flag. Thus the well-known habit of the rhinoceros of elevating his tailrigidly when about to charge, or when in the act of charging, will flythe flag as a warning to travellers. 

(e) That an official shall be appointed to be known as the Inspector ofRhinos whose duty it shall be to examine the hobbles, numbers and flagsof all Trail Rhinos, and to keep the same in due working order andrepair. 

And I do submit to all and sundry that the above resolutions have asmuch sense to them as have most of the petitions submitted to Governmentby settlers in a new country. 

XXIII. THE HIPPO POOL

For a number of days we camped in a grove just above a dense jungleand not fifty paces from the bank of a deep and wide river. We couldat various points push through light low undergrowth, or stoop beneathclear limbs, or emerge on tiny open banks and promontories to look outover the width of the stream. The river here was some three or fourhundred feet wide. It cascaded down through various large boulders andsluiceways to fall bubbling and boiling into deep water; it then flowedstill and sluggish for nearly a half mile and finally divided intochannels around a number of wooded islands of different sizes. In thelong still stretch dwelt about sixty hippopotamuses of all sizes. 

During our stay these hippos led a life of alarmed and angry care. When we first arrived they were distributed picturesquely on banks orsandbars, or were lying in midstream. At once they disappeared underwater. By the end of four or five minutes they began to come to thesurface. Each beast took one disgusted look, snorted, and sank again. So hasty was his action that he did not even take time to get a fullbreath; consequently up he had to come in not more than two minutes, this time. The third submersion lasted less than a minute; and at theend of half hour of yelling we had the hippos alternating between thebottom of the river and the surface of the water about as fast as theycould make a round trip, blowing like porpoises. It was a comical sight. And as some of the boys were always out watching the show, those hipposhad no respite during the daylight hours. From a short distance inlandthe explosive blowing as they came to the surface sounded like theirregular exhaust of a steam-engine. 

We camped at this spot four days; and never, in that length of time, during the daytime, did those hippopotamuses take any recreation andrest. To be sure after a little they calmed down sufficiently to remainon the surface for a half minute or so, instead of gasping a mouthful ofair and plunging below at once; but below was where they considered theybelonged most of the time. We got to recognize certain individuals. Theywould stare at us fixedly for a while; and then would glump down out ofsight like submarines. 

When I saw them thus floating with only the very top of the head andsnout out of water, I for the first time appreciated why the Greeks hadnamed them hippopotamuses-the river horses. With the heavy jowl hidden;and the prominent nostrils, the long reverse-curved nose, the wide eyes, and the little pointed ears alone visible, they resembled more thana little that sort of conventionalized and noble charger seen on thefrieze of the Parthenon, or in the prancy paintings of the Renaissance. 

There were hippopotamuses of all sizes and of all colours. Thelittle ones, not bigger than a grand piano, were of flesh pink. Thosehalf-grown were mottled with pink and black in blotches. The adults werealmost invariably all dark, though a few of them retained still a smallpink spot or so-a sort of persistence in mature years of the eternalboy-, I suppose. All were very sleek and shiny with the wet; and theyhad a fashion of suddenly and violently wiggling one or the other orboth of their little ears in ridiculous contrast to the fixed stare oftheir bung eyes. Generally they had nothing to say as to the situation, though occasionally some exasperated old codger would utter a grumblingbellow. 

The ground vegetation for a good quarter mile from the river bankwas entirely destroyed, and the earth beaten and packed hard by theseanimals. Landing trails had been made leading out from the water by easyand regular grades. These trails were about two feet wide and worn afoot or so deep. They differed from the rhino trails, from which theycould be easily distinguished, in that they showed distinctly twoparallel tracks separated from each other by a slight ridge. In otherwords, the hippo waddles. These trails we found as far as four andfive miles inland. They were used, of course, only at night; and ledinvariably to lush and heavy feed. While we were encamped there, thecountry on our side the river was not used by our particular herd ofhippos. One night, however, we were awakened by a tremendous rendingcrash of breaking bushes, followed by an instant's silence and then theoutbreak of a babel of voices. Then we heard a prolonged sw-i-sh-sh-sh, exactly like the launching of a big boat. A hippo had blundered out thewrong side the river, and fairly into our camp. 

In rivers such as the Tana these great beasts are most extraordinarilyabundant. Directly in front of our camp, for example, were threeseparate herds which contained respectively about sixty, forty, andtwenty-five head. Within two miles below camp were three other big poolseach with its population; while a walk of a mile above showed about asmany more. This sort of thing obtained for practically the whole lengthof the river-hundreds of miles. Furthermore, every little tributarystream, no matter how small, provided it can muster a pool or so deepenough to submerge so large an animal, has its faithful band. I haveknown of a hippo quite happily occupying a ditch pool ten feet wide andfifteen feet long. There was literally not room enough for the beast toturn around; he had to go in at one end and out at the other! Each lake, too, is alive with them; and both lakes and rivers are many. 

Nobody disturbs hippos, save for trophies and an occasional supply ofmeat for the men or of cooking fat for the kitchen. Therefore they waxfat and sassy, and will long continue to flourish in the land. 

It takes time to kill a hippo, provided one is wanted. The mark issmall, and generally it is impossible to tell whether or not the bullethas reached the brain. Harmed or whole the beast sinks anyway. Somehours later the distention of the stomach will float the body. Thereforethe only decent way to do is to take the shot, and then wait a halfday to see whether or not you have missed. There are always plenty ofvolunteers in camp to watch the pool, for the boys are extravagantlyfond of hippo meat. Then it is necessary to manoeuvre a rope on thecarcass, often a matter of great difficulty, for the other hippos bellowand snort and try to live up to the circus posters of the Blood-sweatingBehemoth of Holy Writ, and the crocodiles like dark meat very much. Usually one offers especial reward to volunteers, and shoots into thewater to frighten the beasts. The volunteer dashes rapidly across theshallows, makes a swift plunge, and clambers out on the floating body asonto a raft. 

Then he makes fast the rope, and everybody tails on and tows the wholeoutfit ashore. On one occasion the volunteer produced a fish line andactually caught a small fish from the floating carcass! This sounds likea good one; but I saw it with my own two eyes. 

It was at the hippo pool camp that we first became acquainted with FunnyFace. 

Funny Face was the smallest, furriest little monkey you ever saw. Inever cared for monkeys before; but this one was altogether engaging. Hehad thick soft fur almost like that on a Persian cat, and a tiny humanblack face, and hands that emerged from a ruff; and he was about as bigas old-fashioned dolls used to be before they began to try to imitatereal babies with them. That is to say, he was that big when we saidfarewell to him. When we first knew him, had he stood in a half pintmeasure he could just have seen over the rim. We caught him in a littlethorn ravine all by himself, a fact that perhaps indicates that hismother had been killed, or perhaps that he, like a good little FunnyFace, was merely staying where he was told while she was away. At anyrate he fought savagely, according to his small powers. We took himignominiously by the scruff of the neck, haled him to camp, and dumpedhim down on Billy. Billy constructed him a beautiful belt by sacrificingpart of a kodak strap (mine), and tied him to a chop box filled with drygrass. Thenceforth this became Funny Face's castle, at home and on themarch. 

Within a few hours his confidence in life was restored. He acceptedsmall articles of food from our hands, eyeing us intently, retired andexamined them. As they all proved desirable, he rapidly came to theconclusion that these new large strange monkeys, while not so beautifuland agile as his own people, were nevertheless a good sort after all. Therefore he took us into his confidence. By next day he was quitetame, would submit to being picked up without struggling, and had ceasedtrying to take an end off our various fingers. In fact when the fingerwas presented, he would seize it in both small black hands; convey itto his mouth; give it several mild and gentle love-chews; and then, clasping it with all four hands, would draw himself up like a littleathlete and seat himself upright on the outspread palm. Thence he wouldsurvey the world, wrinkling up his tiny brow. 

This chastened and scholarly attitude of mind lasted for four or fivedays. Then Funny Face concluded that he understood all about it, hadsettled satisfactorily to himself all the problems of the world andhis relations to it, and had arrived at a good working basis for life. Therefore these questions ceased to occupy him. He dismissed them fromhis mind completely, and gave himself over to light-hearted frivolity. 

His disposition was flighty but full of elusive charm. You deprecatedhis lack of serious purpose in life, disapproved heartily of hisirresponsibility, but you fell to his engaging qualities. He was atypical example of the lovable good-for-naught. Nothing retained hisattention for two consecutive minutes. If he seized a nut and startedfor his chop box with it, the chances were he would drop it and forgetall about it in the interest excited by a crawling ant or the colour ofa flower. His elfish face was always alight with the play of emotionsand of flashing changing interests. He was greatly given to starting offon very important errands, which he forgot before he arrived. 

In this he contrasted strangely with his friend Darwin. Darwin wasanother monkey of the same species, caught about a week later. Darwin'sface was sober and pondering, and his methods direct and effective. Noside excursions into the brilliant though evanescent fields of fancydiverted him from his ends. These were, generally, to get the most andbest food and the warmest corner for sleep. When he had acquired a nut, a kernel of corn, or a piece of fruit, he sat him down and examined itthoroughly and conscientiously and then, conscientiously and thoroughly, he devoured it. No extraneous interest could distract his attention; notfor a moment. That he had sounded the seriousness of life is proved bythe fact that he had observed and understood the flighty characterof Funny Face. When Funny Face acquired a titbit, Darwin took up ahump-backed position near at hand, his bright little eyes fixed on hisfriend's activities. Funny Face would nibble relishingly at his prunefor a moment or so; then an altogether astonishing butterfly wouldflitter by just overhead. Funny Face, lost in ecstasy would gaze skywardafter the departing marvel. This was Darwin's opportunity. In twohops he was at Funny Face's side. With great deliberation, but mostbusinesslike directness, Darwin disengaged Funny Face's unresistingfingers from the prune, seized it, and retired. Funny Face neverknew it; his soul was far away after the blazoned wonder, and when itreturned, it was not to prunes at all. They were forgotten, and hiswandering eye focussed back to a bright button in the grass. Thus bystrict attention to business did Darwin prosper. 

Darwin's attitude was always serious, and his expression grave. When hecondescended to romp with Funny Face one could see that it was not forthe mere joy of sport, but for the purposes of relaxation. If offereda gift he always examined it seriously before finally accepting it, turning it over and over in his hands, and considering it with wrinkledbrow. If you offered anything to Funny Face, no matter what, he dashedup, seized it on the fly, departed at speed uttering grateful lowchatterings; probably dropped and forgot it in the excitement ofsomething new before he had even looked to see what it was. 

"These people, " said Darwin to himself, "on the whole, and as anaverage, seem to give me appropriate and pleasing gifts. To be sure, itis always well to see that they don't try to bunco me with olive stonesor such worthless trash, but still I believe they are worth cultivatingand standing in with. "

"It strikes me, " observed Funny Face to himself, "that my adorableMemsahib and my beloved bwana have been very kind to me to-day, though Idon't remember precisely how. But I certainly do love them!"

We cut good sized holes on each of the four sides of their chop box toafford them ventilation on the march. The box was always carried on oneof the safari boy's heads: and Funny Face and Darwin gazed forth withgreat interest. It was very amusing to see the big negro stridingjauntily along under his light burden; the large brown winking eyesglued to two of the apertures. When we arrived in camp and threw thebox cover open, they hopped forth, shook themselves, examined theirimmediate surroundings and proceeded to take a little exercise. Whenanything alarmed them, such as the shadow of a passing hawk, theyskittered madly up the nearest thing in sight-tent pole, tree, or humanform-- and scolded indignantly or chittered in a low tone according tothe degree of their terror. When Funny Face was very young, indeed, thegrass near camp caught fire. After the excitement was over we found himcompletely buried in the straw of his box, crouched, and whimpering likea child. As he could hardly, at his tender age, have had any previousexperience with fire, this instinctive fear was to me very interesting. 

The monkeys had only one genuine enemy. That was an innocent plushlion named Little Simba. It had been given us in joke before we leftCalifornia, we had tucked it into an odd corner of our trunk, haddiscovered it there, carried it on safari out of sheer idleness, andlo! it had become an important member of the expedition. Every morningMahomet or Yusuf packed it-or rather him-carefully away in the tin box. Promptly at the end of the day's march Little Simba was haled forthand set in a place of honour in the centre of the table, and reignedthere-or sometimes in a little grass jungle constructed by his faithfulservitors-until the march was again resumed. His job in life was to lookafter our hunting luck. When he failed to get us what we wanted, he waspunished; when he procured us what we desired he was rewarded by havinghis tail sewed on afresh, or by being presented with new black threadwhiskers, or even a tiny blanket of Mericani against the cold. Thislast was an especial favour for finally getting us the greater kudu. Naturally as we did all this in the spirit of an idle joke our rewardsand punishments were rather desultory. To our surprise, however, we soonfound that our boys took Little Simba quite seriously. He was a fetish, a little god, a power of good or bad luck. We did not appreciate thispoint until one evening, after a rather disappointing day, Mahomet cameto us bearing Little Simba in his hand. 

"Bwana, " said he respectfully, "is it enough that I shut Simba in thetin box, or do you wish to flog him?"

On one very disgraceful occasion, when everything went wrong, weplucked Little Simba from his high throne and with him made a beautifuldrop-kick out into the tall grass. There, in a loud tone of voice, westernly bade him lie until the morrow. The camp was bung-eyed. It is notgiven to every people to treat its gods in such fashion: indeed, invery deed, great is the white man! To be fair, having published LittleSimba's disgrace, we should publish also Little Simba's triumph: totell how, at the end of a certain very lucky three months' safari he wasperched atop a pole and carried into town triumphantly at the head ofa howling, singing procession of a hundred men. He returned to America, and now, having retired from active professional life, is leading anhonoured old age among the trophies he helped to procure. 

Funny Face first met Little Simba when on an early investigating tour. With considerable difficulty he had shinnied up the table leg, and hadhoisted himself over the awkwardly projecting table edge. When almostwithin reach of the fascinating affairs displayed atop, he lookedstraight up into the face of Little Simba! Funny Face shrieked aloud, let go all holds and fell off flat on his back. Recovering immediately, he climbed just as high as he could, and proceeded, during the nexthour, to relieve his feelings by the most insulting chatterings andgrimaces. He never recovered from this initial experience. All that wasnecessary to evoke all sorts of monkey talk was to produce Little Simba. Against his benign plush front then broke a storm of remonstrance. He became the object of slow advances and sudden scurrying, shriekingretreats, that lasted just as long as he stayed there, and never got anyfarther than a certain quite conservative point. Little Simba did notmind. He was too busy being a god. 

XXIV. BUFFALO

The Cape Buffalo is one of the four dangerous kinds of African big game;of which the other three are the lion, the rhinoceros, and the elephant. These latter are familiar to us in zoological gardens, although theAfrican and larger form of the rhinoceros and elephant are seldom ornever seen in captivity. But buffaloes are as yet unrepresented in ourliving collections. They are huge beasts, tremendous from any pointof view, whether considered in height, in mass, or in power. At theshoulder they stand from just under five feet to just under six feet inheight; they are short legged, heavy bodied bull necked, thick in everydimension. In colour they are black as to hair, and slate gray as toskin; so that the individual impression depends on the thickness of thecoat. They wear their horns parted in the middle, sweeping smoothly awayin the curves of two great bosses either side the head. A good trophywill measure in spread from forty inches to four feet. Four men willbe required to carry in the head alone. As buffaloes when disturbed orsuspicious have a habit of thrusting their noses up and forward, thatposition will cling to one's memory as the most typical of the species. 

A great many hunters rank the buffalo first among the dangerous beasts. This is not my own opinion, but he is certainly dangerous enough. Hepossesses the size, power, and truculence of the rhinoceros, togetherwith all that animal's keenness of scent and hearing but with asharpness of vision the rhinoceros has not. While not as clever aseither the lion or the elephant, he is tricky enough when angered tocircle back for the purpose of attacking his pursuers in the rear orflank, and to arrange rather ingenious ambushes for the same purpose. He is rather more tenacious of life than the rhinoceros, and willcarry away an extraordinary quantity of big bullets. Add to theseconsiderations the facts that buffaloes go in herds; and that, barringluck, chances are about even they will have to be followed into thethickest cover, it can readily be seen that their pursuit is exciting. 

The problem would be simplified were one able or willing to slip intothe thicket or up to the grazing herd and kill the nearest beast thatoffers. As a matter of fact an ordinary herd will contain only two orthree bulls worth shooting; and it is the hunter's delicate task toglide and crawl here and there, with due regard for sight, scent andsound, until he has picked one of these from the scores of undesirables. Many times will he worm his way by inches toward the great black bodieshalf defined in the screen of thick undergrowth only to find that he hasstalked cows or small bulls. Then inch by inch he must back out again, unable to see twenty yards to either side, guiding himself by theprobabilities of the faint chance breezes in the thicket. To right andleft he hears the quiet continued crop, crop, crop, sound of animalsgrazing. The sweat runs down his face in streams, and blinds his eyes, but only occasionally and with the utmost caution can he raise hishand-or, better, lower his head-to clear his vision. When at last he haswithdrawn from the danger zone, he wipes his face, takes a drink fromthe canteen, and tries again. Sooner or later his presence comes to thenotice of some old cow. Behind the leafy screen where unsuspected shehas been standing comes the most unexpected and heart-jumping crash!Instantly the jungle all about roars into life. The great bodies of thealarmed beasts hurl themselves through the thicket, smash! bang! crash!smash! as though a tornado were uprooting the forest. Then abruptly acomplete silence! This lasts but ten seconds or so; then off rushes thewild stampede in another direction; only again to come to a listeninghalt of breathless stillness. So the hunter, unable to see anything, and feeling very small, huddles with his gunbearers in a compact group, listening to the wild surging short rushes, now this way, now that, hoping that the stampede may not run over him. If by chance it does, hehas his two shots and the possibility of hugging a tree while the rushdivides around him. The latter is the most likely; a single buffalois hard enough to stop with two shots, let alone a herd. And yet, sometimes, the mere flash and noise will suffice to turn them, providedthey are not actually trying to attack, but only rushing indefinitelyabout. Probably a man can experience few more thrilling moments than hewill enjoy standing in one of the small leafy rooms of an African junglewhile several hundred tons of buffalo crash back and forth all aroundhim. 

In the best of circumstances it is only rarely that having identifiedhis big bull, the hunter can deliver a knockdown blow. The beast isextraordinarily vital, and in addition it is exceedingly difficult toget a fair, open shot. Then from the danger of being trampled downby the blind and senseless stampede of the herd he passes to the moredefined peril from an angered and cunning single animal. The majority offatalities in hunting buffaloes happen while following wounded beasts. Aflank charge at close range may catch the most experienced man; and evenwhen clearly seen, it is difficult to stop. The buffalo's wide bossesare a helmet to his brain, and the body shot is always chancy. The beasttosses his victim, or tramples him, or pushes him against a tree tocrush him like a fly. 

He who would get his trophy, however, is not always-perhaps is notgenerally-forced into the thicket to get it. When not much disturbed, buffaloes are in the habit of grazing out into the open just beforedark; and of returning to their thicket cover only well after sunrise. If the hunter can arrange to meet his herd at such a time, he stands avery good chance of getting a clear shot. The job then requires merelyordinary caution and manoeuvring; and the only danger, outside theever-present one from the wounded beast, is that the herd may chargeover him deliberately. Therefore it is well to keep out of sight. 

The difficulty generally is to locate your beasts. They wander allnight, and must be blundered upon in the early morning before they havedrifted back into the thickets. Sometimes, by sending skilled trackersin several directions, they can be traced to where they have enteredcover. A messenger then brings the white man to the place, and every onetries to guess at what spot the buffaloes are likely to emerge for theirevening stroll. It is remarkably easy to make a wrong guess, and theremaining daylight is rarely sufficient to repair a mistake. And also, in the case of a herd ranging a wide country with much tall grass andseveral drinking holes, it is rather difficult, without very good luck, to locate them on any given night or morning. A few herds, a very few, may have fixed habits, and so prove easy hunting. 

These difficulties, while in no way formidable, are real enough in theirsmall way; but they are immensely increased when the herds have beenoften disturbed. Disturbance need not necessarily mean shooting. Incountries unvisited by white men often the pastoral natives will soannoy the buffalo by shoutings and other means, whenever they appearnear the tame cattle, that the huge beasts will come practicallynocturnal. In that case only the rankest luck will avail to get a mana chance in the open. The herds cling to cover until after sundown andjust at dusk; and they return again very soon after the first streaks ofdawn. If the hunter just happens to be at the exact spot, he may geta twilight shot when the glimmering ivory of his front sight is barelyvisible. Otherwise he must go into the thicket. 

As an illustration of the first condition might be instanced anafternoon on the Tana. The weather was very hot. We had sent three lotsof men out in different directions, each under the leadership of oneof the gunbearers, to scout, while we took it easy in the shade of ourbanda, or grass shelter, on the bank of the river. About one o'clocka messenger came into camp reporting that the men under Mavrouki hadtraced a herd to its lying-down place. We took our heavy guns andstarted. 

The way led through thin scrub up the long slope of a hill that brokeon the other side into undulating grass ridges that ended in a range ofhills. These were about four or five miles distant, and thinly woodedon sides and lower slopes with what resembled a small live-oak growth. Among these trees, our guide told us, the buffalo had first beensighted. 

The sun was very hot, and all the animals were still. We saw impalla inthe scrub, and many giraffes and bucks on the plains. After an hour anda half's walk we entered the parklike groves at the foot of the hills, and our guide began to proceed more cautiously. He moved forward a fewfeet, peered about, retraced his steps. Suddenly his face broke into abroad grin. Following his indication we looked up, and there in a treealmost above us roosted one of our boys sound asleep! We whistled athim. Thereupon he awoke, tried to look very alert, and pointed in thedirection we should go. After an interval we picked up another sentinel, and another, and another until, passed on thus from one to the next, we traced the movements of the herd. Finally we came upon Mavrouki andSimba under a bush. From them, in whispers, we learned that the buffalowere karibu sana-very near; that they had fed this far, and were nowlying in the long grass just ahead. Leaving the men, we now continuedour forward movement on hands and knees, in single file. It was very hotwork, for the sun beat square down on us, and the tall grass kept offevery breath of air. Every few moments we rested, lying on our faces. Occasionally, when the grass shortened, or the slant of ground tendedto expose us, we lay quite flat and hitched forward an inch at a time bythe strength of our toes. This was very severe work indeed, and we weredrenched in perspiration. In fact, as I had been feeling quite ill allday, it became rather doubtful whether I could stand the pace. 

However after a while we managed to drop down into an eroded deep littleravine. Here the air was like that of a furnace, but at least we couldwalk upright for a few rods. This we did, with the most extraordinaryprecautions against even the breaking of a twig or the rolling of apebble. Then we clambered to the top of the bank, wormed our way forwardanother fifty feet to the shelter of a tiny bush, and stretched out torecuperate. We lay there some time, sheltered from the sun. Then aheadof us suddenly rumbled a deep bellow. We were fairly upon the herd!

Cautiously F. , who was nearest the centre of the bush, raised himselfalongside the stem to look. He could see where the beasts were lying, not fifty yards away, but he could make out nothing but the fact ofgreat black bodies taking their ease in the grass under the shade oftrees. So much he reported to us; then rose again to keep watch. 

Thus we waited the rest of the afternoon. The sun dipped at last towardthe west, a faint irregular breeze wandered down from the hills, certainbirds awoke and uttered their clear calls, an unsuspected kongonistepped from the shade of a tree over the way and began to crop thegrass, the shadows were lengthening through the trees. Then ahead ofus an uneasiness ran through the herd. We in the grass could hear themutterings and grumblings of many great animals. Suddenly F. Snapped hisfingers, stooped low and darted forward. We scrambled to our feet andfollowed. 

Across a short open space we ran, bent double to the shelter of a bigant hill. Peering over the top of this we found ourselves within sixtyyards of a long compact column of the great black beasts, moving forwardorderly to the left, the points of the cow's horns, curved up and in, tossing slowly as the animals walked. On the flank of the herd was a biggray bull. 

It had been agreed that B. Was to have the shot. Therefore he openedfire with his 405 Winchester, a weapon altogether too light for thissort of work. At the shot the herd dashed forward to an open grassmeadow a few rods away, wheeled and faced back in a compact mass, theirnoses thrust up and out in their typical fashion, trying with all theirsenses to locate the cause of the disturbance. 

Taking advantage both of the scattered cover, and the half light of theshadows we slipped forward as rapidly and as unobtrusively as we couldto the edge of the grass meadow. Here we came to a stand eighty yardsfrom the buffaloes. They stood compactly like a herd of cattle, staring, tossing their heads, moving slightly, their wild eyes searching for us. I saw several good bulls, but always they moved where it was impossibleto shoot without danger of getting the wrong beast. Finally my chancecame; I planted a pair of Holland bullets in the shoulder of one ofthem. 

The herd broke away to the right, sweeping past us at close range. Mybull ran thirty yards with them, then went down stone dead. When weexamined him we found the hole made by B. 's Winchester bullet; so thatquite unintentionally and by accident I had fired at the same beast. This was lucky. The trophy, by hunter's law, of course, belonged to B. 

Therefore F. And I alone followed on after the herd. It was now comingon dusk. Within a hundred yards we began to see scattered beasts. Theformation of the herd had broken. Some had gone on in flight, whileothers in small scattered groups would stop to stare back, and wouldthen move slowly on for a few paces before stopping again. Among theseI made out a bull facing us about a hundred and twenty-five yards away, and managed to stagger him, but could not bring him down. 

Now occurred an incident which I should hesitate to relate were it notthat both F. And myself saw it. We have since talked it over, comparedour recollections, and found them to coincide in every particular. 

As we moved cautiously in pursuit of the slowly retreating herd threecows broke back and came running down past us. We ducked aside and hid, of course, but noticed that of the three two were very young, while onewas so old that she had become fairly emaciated, a very unusual thingwith buffaloes. We then followed the herd for twenty minutes, or untiltwilight, when we turned back. About halfway down the slope we again metthe three cows, returning. They passed us within twenty yards, but paidus no attention whatever. The old cow was coming along very reluctantly, hanging back at every step, and every once in a while swinging her headviciously at one or the other of her two companions. These escorted heron either side, and a little to the rear. They were plainly urging herforward, and did not hesitate to dig her in the ribs with their hornswhenever she turned especially obstinate. In fact they acted exactlylike a pair of cowboys HERDING a recalcitrant animal back to its bandand I have no doubt at all that when they first by us the old lady wasmaking a break for liberty in the wrong direction, AND THAT THE TWOYOUNGER COWS WERE TRYING TO ROUND HER BACK! Whether they were herdaughters or not is problematical; but it certainly seemed that theywere taking care of her and trying to prevent her running back whereit was dangerous to go. I never heard of a similar case, though HerbertWard* mentions, without particulars that elephants AND BUFFALOES willassist each other WHEN WOUNDED. 

 * A Voice from the Congo. 

After passing these we returned to where B. And the men, who had nowcome up, had prepared the dead bull for transportation. We started atonce, travelling by the stars, shouting and singing to discourage thelions, but did not reach camp until well into the night. 

XXV. THE BUFFALO-continued

Some months later, and many hundreds of miles farther south, Billy andI found ourselves alone with twenty men, and two weeks to pass untilC. -our companion at the time-should return from a long journey out witha wounded man. By slow stages, and relaying back and forth, we landed ina valley so beautiful in every way that we resolved to stay as long aspossible. This could be but five days at most. At the end of that timewe must start for our prearranged rendezvous with C. 

The valley was in the shape of an ellipse, the sides of which wereformed by great clifflike mountains, and the other two by hills lower, but still of considerable boldness and size. The longest radius wasperhaps six or eight miles, and the shortest three or four. At one enda canyon dropped away to a lower level, and at the other a pass in thehills gave over to the country of the Narassara River. The name of thevalley was Lengeetoto. 

From the great mountains flowed many brooks of clear sparkling water, that ran beneath the most beautiful of open jungles, to unite finally inone main stream that disappeared down the canyon. Between these brookswere low broad rolling hills, sometimes grass covered, sometimes grownthinly with bushes. Where they headed in the mountains, long stringersof forest trees ran up to blocklike groves, apparently pasted likewafers against the base of the cliffs, but in reality occupying spaciousslopes below them. 

We decided to camp at the foot of a long grass slant within a hundredyards of the trees along one of the small streams. Before us we had thesweep of brown grass rising to a clear cut skyline; and all about us thedistant great hills behind which the day dawned and fell. One afternoona herd of giraffes stood silhouetted on this skyline quite a half hourgazing curiously down on our camp. Hartebeeste and zebra swarmed inthe grassy openings; and impalla in the brush. We saw sing-sing andsteinbuck, and other animals, and heard lions nearly every night. Butprincipally we elected to stay because a herd of buffaloes ranged thefoothills and dwelt in the groves of forest trees under the cliffs. Wewanted a buffalo; and as Lengeetoto is practically unknown to white men, we thought this a good chance to get one. In that I reckoned withoutthe fact that at certain seasons the Masai bring their cattle in, and atsuch times annoy the buffalo all they can. 

We started out well enough. I sent Memba Sasa with two men to locate theherd. About three o'clock a messenger came to camp after me. We plungedthrough our own jungle, crossed a low swell, traversed another jungle, and got in touch with the other two men. They reported the buffalohad entered the thicket a few hundred yards below us. Cautiouslyreconnoitering the ground it soon became evident that we would be forcedmore definitely to locate the herd. To be sure, they had entered thestream jungle at a known point, but there could be no telling how farthey might continue in the thicket, nor on what side of it they wouldemerge at sundown. Therefore we commenced cautiously and slowly followthe trail. 

The going was very thick, naturally, and we could not see very farahead. Our object was not now to try for a bull, but merely to findwhere the herd was feeding, in order that we might wait for it to comeout. However, we were brought to a stand, in the middle of a jungle ofgreen leaves, by the cropping sound of a beast grazing just the otherside of a bush. We could not see it, and we stood stock still in thehope of escaping discovery ourselves. But an instant later a suddencrash of wood told us we had been seen. It was near work. The gunbearerscrouched close to me. I held the heavy double gun ready. If the beasthad elected to charge I would have had less than ten yards within whichto stop it. Fortunately it did not do so. But instantly the herd wasafoot and off at full speed. A locomotive amuck in a kindling pile couldhave made no more appalling a succession of rending crashes than didthose heavy animals rushing here and there through the thick woodygrowth. We could see nothing. Twice the rush started in our direction, but stopped as suddenly as it had begun, to be succeeded by absolutestillness when everything, ourselves included, held its breath tolisten. Finally, the first panic over, the herd started definitely awaydownstream. We ran as fast as we could out of the jungle to a commandingposition on the hill. Thence we could determine the course of the herd. It continued on downstream as far as we could follow the sounds in theconvolutions of the hills. Realizing that it would improbably recoverenough from its alarmed condition to resume its regular habits that day, we returned to camp. 

Next morning Memba Sasa and I were afield before daylight. We took noother men. In hunting I am a strong disbeliever in the common habit oftrailing along a small army. It is simple enough, in case the killis made, to send back for help. No matter how skilful your men are atstalking, the chances of alarming the game are greatly increasedby numbers; while the possibilities of misunderstanding the plan ofcampaign, and so getting into the wrong place at the wrong time, areinfinite. Alone, or with one gunbearer, a man can slip in and out a herdof formidable animals with the least chances of danger. Merely going outafter camp meat is of course a different matter. 

We did not follow in the direction taken by the herd the night before, but struck off toward the opposite side of the valley. For two hours wesearched the wooded country at the base of the cliff mountains, workingslowly around the circle, examining every inlet, ravine and gully. Plenty of other sorts of game we saw, including elephant tracks nota half hour old; but no buffalo. About eight o'clock, however, whilelooking through my glasses, I caught sight of some tiny chunky blackdots crawling along below the mountains diagonally across the valley, and somewhat over three miles away. We started in that direction as fastas we could walk. At the end of an hour we surmounted the last swell, and stood at the edge of a steep drop. Immediately below us flowed agood-sized stream through a high jungle over the tops of which we lookedto a triangular gentle slope overgrown with scattered bushes and highgrass. Beyond this again ran another jungle, angling up hill fromthe first, to end in a forest of trees about thirty or forty acres inextent. This jungle and these trees were backed up against the slope ofthe mountain. The buffaloes we had first seen above the grove: they mustnow have sought cover among either the trees or the lower jungle, andit seemed reasonable that the beasts would emerge on the grass and busharea late in the afternoon. Therefore Memba Sasa and I selected goodcomfortable sheltered spots, leaned our backs against rocks, andresigned ourselves to long patience. It was now about nine o'clock inthe morning, and we could not expect our game to come out before halfpast three at earliest. We could not, however, go away to come backlater because of the chance that the buffaloes might take it into theirheads to go travelling. I had been fooled that way before. For thisreason, also, it was necessary, every five minutes or so, to examinecarefully all our boundaries; lest the beasts might be slipping awaythrough the cover. 

The hours passed very slowly. We made lunch last as long as possible. Ihad in my pocket a small edition of Hawthorne's "The House of the SevenGables, " which I read, pausing every few minutes to raise my glassesfor the periodical examination of the country. The mental focussingback from the pale gray half light of Hawthorne's New England to theactuality of wild Africa was a most extraordinary experience. 

Through the heat of the day the world lay absolutely silent. At abouthalf-past three, however, we heard rumblings and low bellows from thetrees a half mile away. I repocketed Hawthorne, and aroused myself tocontinuous alertness. 

The ensuing two hours passed more slowly than all the rest of theday, for we were constantly on the lookout. The buffaloes delayed mostsingularly, seemingly reluctant to leave their deep cover. The sundropped behind the mountains, and their shadow commenced to climb theopposite range. I glanced at my watch. We had not more than a half hourof daylight left. 

Fifteen minutes of this passed. It began to look as though our longand monotonous wait had been quite in vain; when, right below us, andperhaps five hundred yards away, four great black bodies fed leisurelyfrom the bushes. Three of them we could see plainly. Two were bullsof fair size. The fourth, half concealed in the brush, was by far thebiggest of the lot. 

In order to reach them we would have to slip down the face of the hillon which we sat, cross the stream jungle at the bottom, climb out theother side, and make our stalk to within range. With a half hour moreof daylight this would have been comparatively easy, but in suchcircumstances it is difficult to move at the same time rapidly andunseen. However, we decided to make the attempt. To that end wedisencumbered ourselves of all our extras-lunch box, book, kodak, glasses, etc. -and wormed our way as rapidly as possible toward thebottom of the hill. We utilized the cover as much as we were able, butnevertheless breathed a sigh of relief when we had dropped below theline of the jungle. We wasted very little time crossing the latter, save for precautions against noise. Even in my haste, however, I hadopportunity to notice its high and austere character, with the archingoverhead vines, and the clear freedom from undergrowth in its heart. Across this cleared space we ran at full speed, crouching below thegrasp of the vines, splashed across the brook and dashed up the otherbank. Only a faint glimmer of light lingered in the jungle. At the upperedge we paused, collected ourselves, and pushed cautiously through thethick border-screen of bush. 

The twilight was just fading into dusk. Of course we had taken ourbearings from the other hill; so now, after reassuring ourselves ofthem, we began to wriggle our way at a great pace through the highgrass. Our calculations were quite accurate. We stalked successfully, and at last, drenched in sweat, found ourselves lying flat within tenyards of a small bush behind which we could make out dimly the blackmass of the largest beast we had seen from across the way. 

Although it was now practically dark, we had the game in our own hands. From our low position the animal, once it fed forward from behind thesingle small bush, would be plainly outlined against the sky, and at tenyards I should be able to place my heavy bullets properly, even in thedark. Therefore, quite easy in our minds, we lay flat and rested. At theend of twenty seconds the animal began to step forward. I levelled mydouble gun, ready to press trigger the moment the shoulder appeared inthe clear. Then against the saffron sky emerged the ugly outline and twoupstanding horns of a rhinoceros!

"Faru!" I whispered disgustedly to Memba Sasa. With infinite pains webacked out, then retreated to a safe distance. It was of course now toolate to hunt up the three genuine buffaloes of this ill-assorted group. 

In fact our main necessity was to get through the river jungle beforethe afterglow had faded from the sky, leaving us in pitch darkness. I sent Memba Sasa across to pick up the effects we had left on theopposite ridge, while I myself struck directly across the flat towardcamp. 

I had plunged ahead thus, for two or three hundred yards, when I wasbrought up short by the violent snort of a rhinoceros just off thestarboard bow. He was very close, but I was unable to locate him in thedusk. A cautious retreat and change of course cleared me from him, andI was about to start on again full speed when once more I was halted byanother rhinoceros, this time dead ahead. Attempting to back away fromhim, I aroused another in my rear; and as though this were not enough afourth opened up to the left. 

It was absolutely impossible to see anything ten yards away unless ithappened to be silhouetted against the sky. I backed cautiously towarda little bush, with a vague idea of having something to dodge around. As the old hunter said when, unarmed, he met the bear, "Anything, evena newspaper, would have come handy. " To my great joy I backed againsta conical ant hill four or five feet high. This I ascended and begananti-rhino demonstrations. I had no time to fool with rhinos, anyway. Iwanted to get through that jungle before the leopards left their familycircles. I hurled clods of earth and opprobrious shouts and epithetsin the four directions of my four obstreperous friends, and I thoughtI counted four reluctant departures. Then, with considerable doubt, Idescended from my ant hill and hurried down the slope, stumblingover grass hummocks, colliding with bushes, tangling with vines, butprogressing in a gratifyingly rhinoless condition. Five minutes cautiousbut rapid feeling my way brought me through the jungle. Shortly after Iraised the campfires; and so got home. 

The next two days were repetitions, with slight variation, of thisexperience, minus the rhinos! Starting from camp before daylight we wereonly in time to see the herd-always aggravatingly on the other side ofthe cover, no matter which side we selected for our approach, slowlygrazing into the dense jungle. And always they emerged so late and sofar away that our very best efforts failed to get us near them beforedark. The margin always so narrow, however, that our hopes were alive. 

On the fourth day, which must be our last in Longeetoto, we found thatthe herd had shifted to fresh cover three miles along the base of themountains. We had no faith in those buffaloes, but about half-past threewe sallied forth dutifully and took position on a hill overlooking thenew hiding place. This consisted of a wide grove of forest trees variedby occasional open glades and many dense thickets. So eager were we towin what had by now developed into a contest that I refused to shoot alioness with a three-quarters-grown cub that appeared within easy shotfrom some reeds below us. 

Time passed as usual until nearly sunset. Then through an opening intoone of the small glades we caught sight of the herd travelling slowlybut steadily from right to left. The glimpse was only momentary, but itwas sufficient to indicate the direction from which we might expect themto emerge. Therefore we ran at top speed down from our own hill, torethrough the jungle at its foot, and hastily, but with more caution, mounted the opposite slope through the scattered groves and high grass. We could hear occasionally indications of the buffaloes' slow advance, and we wanted to gain a good ambuscade above them before they emerged. We found it in the shape of a small conical hillock perched on theside hill itself, and covered with long grass. It commanded open vistasthrough the scattered trees in all directions. And the thicket itselfended not fifty yards away. No buffalo could possibly come out withoutour seeing him; and we had a good half hour of clear daylight before us. It really seemed that luck had changed at last. 

We settled ourselves, unlimbered for action, and got our breath. Thebuffaloes came nearer and nearer. At length, through a tiny opening ahundred yards away, we could catch momentary glimpses of their greatblack bodies. I thrust forward the safety catch and waited. Finallya half dozen of the huge beasts were feeding not six feet inside thecircle of brush, and only thirty-odd yards from where we lay. 

And they came no farther! I never passed a more heart-breaking half hourof suspense than that in which little by little the daylight and ourhopes faded, while those confounded buffaloes moved slowly out to thevery edge of the thicket, turned, and moved as slowly back again. Attimes they came actually into view. We could see their sleek blackbodies rolling lazily into sight and back again, like seals on thesurface of water, but never could we make out more than that. I couldhave had a dozen good shots, but I could not even guess what I would beshooting at. And the daylight drained away and the minutes ticked by!

Finally, as I could see no end to this performance save that to which wehad been so sickeningly accustomed in the last four days, I motioned toMemba Sasa, and together we glided like shadows into the thicket. 

There it was already dusk. We sneaked breathlessly through the smallopenings, desperately in a hurry, almost painfully on the alert. In thedark shadow sixty yards ahead stood a half dozen monstrous bodies allfacing our way. They suspected the presence of something unusual, but inthe darkness and the stillness they could neither identify it nor locateit exactly. I dropped on one knee and snatched my prism glasses to myeyes. The magnification enabled me to see partially into the shadows. Every one of the group carried the sharply inturned points to the horns:they were all cows!

An instant after I had made out this fact, they stampeded across ourface. The whole band thundered and crashed away. 

Desperately we sprang after them, our guns atrail, our bodies stoopedlow to keep down in the shadow of the earth. And suddenly, without theslightest warning we plumped around a bush square on top of the entireherd. It had stopped and was staring back in our direction. I could seenothing but the wild toss of a hundred pair of horns silhouetted againstsuch of the irregular saffron afterglow as had not been blocked off bythe twigs and branches of the thicket. All below was indistinguishableblackness. 

They stood in a long compact semicircular line thirty yards away, quitestill, evidently staring intently into the dusk to find out what hadalarmed them. At any moment they were likely to make another rush;and if they did so in the direction they were facing, they would mostcertainly run over us and trample us down. 

Remembering the dusk I thought it likely that the unexpected vivid flashof the gun might turn them off before they got started. Therefore Iraised the big double Holland, aimed below the line of heads, and wasjust about to pull trigger when my eye caught the silhouette of a pairof horns whose tips spread out instead of turning in. This was a bull, and I immediately shifted the gun in his direction. At the heavy doublereport, the herd broke wildly to right and left and thundered away. Iconfess I was quite relieved. 

A low moaning bellow told us that our bull was down. The last few days'experience at being out late had taught us wisdom so Memba Sasa hadbrought a lantern. By the light of this, we discovered our bull down, and all but dead. To make sure, I put a Winchester bullet into hisbackbone. 

We felt ourselves legitimately open to congratulations, for we hadkilled this bull from a practically nocturnal herd, in the face ofconsiderable danger and more than considerable difficulty. Therefore weshook hands and made appropriate remarks to each other, lacking anybodyto make them for us. 

By now it was pitch dark in the thicket, and just about so outside. Wehad to do a little planning. I took the Holland gun, gave Memba Sasa theWinchester, and started him for camp after help. As he carried off thelantern, it was now up to me to make a fire and to make it quickly. 

For the past hour a fine drizzle had been falling; and the whole countrywas wet from previous rains. I hastily dragged in all the dead wood Icould find near, collected what ought to be good kindling, and startedin to light a fire. Now, although I am no Boy Scout, I have lit severalfires in my time. But never when I was at the same time in such adesperate need and hurry; and in possession of such poor materials. Theharder I worked, the worse things sputtered and smouldered. Probablythe relief from the long tension of the buffalo hunt had something todo with my general piffling inefficiency. If I had taken time to do aproper job once instead of a halfway job a dozen times, as I should havedone and usually would have done, I would have had a fire in no time. I imagine I was somewhat scared. The lioness and her hulking cub hadsmelled the buffalo and were prowling around. I could hear them purringand uttering their hollow grunts. However, at last the flame held. Ifed it sparingly, lit a pipe, placed the Holland gun next my hand, andresigned myself to waiting. For two hours this was not so bad. I smoked, and rested up, and dried out before my little fire. Then my fuel beganto run low. I arose and tore down all the remaining dead limbs withinthe circle of my firelight. These were not many, so I stepped out intothe darkness for more. Immediately I was warned back by a deep growl!

The next hour was not one of such solid comfort. I began to getparsimonious about my supply of firewood, trying to use it in such amanner as to keep up an adequate blaze, and at the same time to make itlast until Memba Sasa should return with the men. I did it, though I gotdown to charred ends before I was through. The old lioness hung aroundwithin a hundred yards or so below, and the buffalo herd, returning, filed by above, pausing to stamp and snort at the fire. Finally, aboutnine o'clock, I made out two lanterns bobbing up to me through thetrees. 

The last incident to be selected from many experiences with buffaloestook place in quite an unvisited district over the mountains from theLoieta Plains. For nearly two months we had ranged far in this lovelyupland country of groves and valleys and wide grass bottoms betweenhills, hunting for greater kudu. One day we all set out from camp tosweep the base of a range of low mountains in search of a good specimenof Newman's hartebeeste, or anything else especially desirable thatmight happen along. The gentle slope from the mountains was of grass cutby numerous small ravines grown with low brush. This brush was so scantyas to afford but indifferent cover for anything larger than one of thesmall grass antelopes. All the ravines led down a mile or so to a deepermain watercourse paralleling the mountains. Some water stood in thepools here; and the cover was a little more dense, but consisted at bestof but a "stringer" no wider than a city street. Flanking the stringerwere scattered high bushes for a few yards; and then the open country. Altogether as unlikely a place for the shade-loving buffalo as could beimagined. 

We collected our Newmanii after rather a long hunt; and just at noon, when the heat of the day began to come on, we wandered down to the waterfor lunch. Here we found a good clear pool and drank. The boys began tomake themselves comfortable by the water's edge; C. Went to superintendthe disposal of Billy's mule. Billy had sat down beneath the shade ofthe most hospitable of the bushes a hundred feet or so away, and wastaking off her veil and gloves. I was carrying to her the lunch box. When I was about halfway from where the boys were drinking at thestream's edge to where she sat, a buffalo bull thrust his head from thebushes just the other side of her. His head was thrust up and forward, as he reached after some of the higher tender leaves on the bushes. Soclose was he that I could see plainly the drops glistening on his moistblack nose. As for Billy, peacefully unwinding her long veil, she seemedfairly under the beast. 

I had no weapon, and any moment might bring some word or some noise thatwould catch the animal's attention. Fortunately, for the moment, everyone, relaxed in the first reaction after the long morning, was keepingsilence. If the buffalo should look down, he could not fail to seeBilly; and if he saw her, he would indubitably kill her. 

As has been explained, snapping the fingers does not seem to reach theattention of wild animals. Therefore I snapped mine as vigorously as Iknew how. Billy heard, looked toward me, turned in the direction of mygaze, and slowly sank prone against the ground. Some of the boys heardme also, and I could see the heads of all of them popping up in interestfrom the banks of the stream. My cautious but very frantic signals tolie low were understood: the heads dropped back. Mavrouki, a riflein each hand, came worming his way toward me through the grass withincredible quickness and agility. A moment later he thrust the 405Winchester into my hand. 

This weapon, powerful and accurate as it is, the best of the lot forlions, was altogether too small for the tremendous brute beforeme. However, the Holland was in camp; and I was very glad in thecircumstances to get this. The buffalo had browsed slowly forward intothe clear, and was now taking the top off a small bush, and facing halfaway from us. It seemed to me quite the largest buffalo I had ever seen, though I should have been willing to have acknowledged at that momentthat the circumstances had something to do with the estimate. However, later we found that the impression was correct. He was verily a giant ofhis kind. His height at the shoulder was five feet ten inches; andhis build was even chunkier than the usual solid robust pattern ofbuffaloes. For example, his neck, just back of the horns, was two feeteight inches thick! He weighed not far from three thousand pounds. 

Once the rifle was in my hands I lost the feeling of utter helplessness, and began to plan the best way out of the situation. As yet the beastwas totally unconscious of our presence; but that could not continuelong. There were too many men about. A chance current of air from anyone of a half dozen directions could not fail to give him the scent. Then there would be lively doings. It was exceedingly desirable todeliver the first careful blow of the engagement while he was unaware. On the other hand, his present attitude-half away from me-was notfavourable; nor, in my exposed position dared I move to a better place. There seemed nothing better than to wait; so wait we did. Mavroukicrouched close at my elbow, showing not the faintest indication of adesire to be anywhere but there. 

The buffalo browsed for a minute or so; then swung slowly broadside on. So massive and low were the bosses of his horns that the brain shotwas impossible. Therefore I aimed low in the shoulder. The shock of thebullet actually knocked that great beast off his feet! My respect forthe hitting power of the 405 went up several notches. The onlytrouble was that he rebounded like a rubber ball. Without an instant'shesitation I gave him another in the same place. This brought him tohis knees for an instant; but he was immediately afoot again. Billyhad, with great good sense and courage, continued to lie absolutely flatwithin a few yards of the beast, Mavrouki and I had kept low, and C. Andthe men were out of sight. The buffalo therefore had seen none of hisantagonists. He charged at a guess, and guessed wrong. As he went byI fired at his head, and, as we found out afterward, broke his jaw. Amoment later C. 's great elephant gun roared from somewhere behind me ashe fired by a glimpse through the brush at the charging animal. It wasan excellent snapshot, and landed back of the ribs. 

When the buffalo broke through the screen of brush I dashed after him, for I thought our only chance of avoiding danger lay in keeping closetrack of where that buffalo went. On the other side the bushes I found alittle grassy opening, and then a small but dense thicket into which theanimal had plunged. To my left, C. Was running up, followed closely byBilly, who, with her usual good sense, had figured out the safest placeto be immediately back of the guns. We came together at the thicket'sedge. 

The animal's movements could be plainly followed by the sound of hiscrashing. We heard him dash away some distance, pause, circle a bit tothe right, and then come rushing back in our direction. Stooping lowwe peered into the darkness of the thicket. Suddenly we saw him, nota dozen yards away. He was still afoot, but very slow. I dropped themagazine of five shots into him as fast as I could work the lever. Welater found all the bullet-holes in a spot as big as the palm of yourhand. These successive heavy blows delivered all in the same place weretoo much for even his tremendous vitality; and slowly he sank on hisside. 

XXVI. JUJA

Most people have heard of Juja, the modern dwelling in the heart of anAfrican wilderness, belonging to our own countryman, Mr. W. N. McMillan. If most people are as I was before I saw the place, they haveconsiderable curiosity and no knowledge of what it is and how it looks. 

We came to Juja at the end of a wide circle that had lasted threemonths, and was now bringing us back again toward our starting point. For five days we had been camped on top a high bluff at the junction oftwo rivers. When we moved we dropped down the bluff, crossed one river, and, after some searching, found our way up the other bluff. There wewere on a vast plain bounded by mountains thirty miles away. A largewhite and unexpected sign told us we were on Juja Farm, and warned usthat we should be careful of our fires in the long grass. 

For an hour we plodded slowly along. Herds of zebra and hartebeeste drewaside before us, dark heavy wildebeeste-the gnu-stood in groups at asafe distance their heads low, looking exactly like our vanished bison;ghostlike bands of Thompson's gazelles glided away with their smoothregular motion. On the vast and treeless plains single small objectsstanding above the general uniformity took an exaggerated value; sothat, before it emerged from the swirling heat mirage, a solitary treemight easily be mistaken for a group of buildings or a grove. Finally, however, we raised above the horizon a dark straight clump of trees. Itdanced in the mirage, and blurred and changed form, but it persisted. A strange patch of white kept appearing and disappearing again. Thisresolved itself into the side of a building. A spider-legged water towerappeared above the trees. 

Gradually we drew up on these. A bit later we swung to the right arounda close wire fence ten feet high, passed through a gate, and rode downa long slanting avenue of young trees. Between the trees were centuryplants and flowers, and a clipped border ran before them. The avenueended before a low white bungalow, with shady verandas all about it, andvines. A formal flower garden lay immediately about it, and a very tallflag pole had been planted in front. A hundred feet away the gardendropped off steep to one of the deep river canyons. 

Two white-robed Somalis appeared on the veranda to inform us thatMcMillan was off on safari. Our own boys approaching at this moment, wethereupon led them past the house, down another long avenue of trees andflowers, out into an open space with many buildings at its edges, pastextensive stables, and through another gate to the open plains oncemore. Here we made camp. After lunch we went back to explore. 

Juja is situated on the top of a high bluff overlooking a river. Inall directions are tremendous grass plains. Donya Sabuk-the Mountain ofBuffaloes-is the only landmark nearer than the dim mountains beyondthe edge of the world, and that is a day's journey away. A rectangle ofpossibly forty acres has been enclosed on three sides by animal-proofwire fence. The fourth side is the edge of the bluff. Within thisenclosure have been planted many trees, now of good size; a prettygarden with abundance of flowers, ornamental shrubs, a sundial, andlawns. In the river bottom land below the bluff is a very extensivevegetable and fruit garden, with cornfields, and experimental plantingsof rubber, and the like. For the use of the people of Juja here areraised a great variety and abundance of vegetables, fruits, and grains. 

Juja House, as has been said, stands back a hundred feet from a bendin the bluffs that permits a view straight up the river valley. Itis surrounded by gardens and trees, and occupies all one end of theenclosed rectangle. Farther down and perched on the edge of a bluff, are several pretty little bungalows for the accommodation of thesuperintendent and his family, for the bachelors' mess, for the farmoffices and dispensary, and for the dairy room, the ice-plant and thepost-office and telegraph station. Back of and inland from this row onthe edge of the cliff, and scattered widely in open space, are a largestore stocked with everything on earth, the Somali quarters of lowwhitewashed buildings, the cattle corrals, the stables, wild animalcages, granaries, blacksmith and carpenter shops, wagon sheds and thelike. Outside the enclosure, and a half mile away, are the conical grasshuts that make up the native village. Below the cliff is a concrete dam, an electric light plant, a pumping plant and a few details of the sort. 

Such is a relief map of Juja proper. Four miles away, and on anotherriver, is Long Juja, a strictly utilitarian affair where grow ostriches, cattle, sheep, and various irrigated things in the bottom land. Allthe rest of the farm, or estate, or whatever one would call it, is openplain, with here and there a river bottom, or a trifle of brush cover. But never enough to constitute more than an isolated and lonesome patch. 

Before leaving London we had received from McMillan earnest assurancesthat he kept open house, and that we must take advantage of hishospitality should we happen his way. Therefore when one of hiswhite-robed Somalis approached us to inquire respectfully as to whatwe wanted for dinner, we yielded weakly to the temptation and told him. Then we marched us boldly to the house and took possession. 

All around the house ran a veranda, shaded bamboo curtains and vines, furnished with the luxurious teakwood chairs of the tropics of which youcan so extend the arms as to form two comfortable and elevated rests foryour feet. Horns of various animals ornamented the walls. A megaphoneand a huge terrestrial telescope on a tripod stood in one corner. Through the latter one could examine at favourable times the herds ofgame on the plains. 

And inside-mind you, we were fresh from three months in thewilderness-we found rugs, pictures, wall paper, a pianola, many books, baths, beautiful white bedrooms with snowy mosquito curtains, electriclights, running water, and above all an atmosphere of homelike comfort. We fell into easy chairs, and seized books and magazines. The Somalisbrought us trays with iced and fizzy drinks in thin glasses. Whenthe time came we crossed the veranda in the rear to enter a spaciousseparate dining-room. The table was white with napery, glittering withsilver and glass, bright with flowers. We ate leisurely of a well-servedcourse dinner, ending with black coffee, shelled nuts, and candiedfruit. Replete and satisfied we strolled back across the veranda to themain house. F. Raised his hand. 

"Hark!" he admonished us. 

We held still. From the velvet darkness came the hurried petulantbarking of zebra; three hyenas howled. 

XXVII. A VISIT AT JUJA

Next day we left all this; and continued our march. About a month later, however, we encountered McMillan himself in Nairobi. I was just out froma very hard trip to the coast-Billy not with me-and wanted nothing somuch as a few days' rest. McMillan's cordiality was not to be denied, however, so the very next day found us tucking ourselves into abuckboard behind four white Abyssinian mules. McMillan, some Somalisand Captain Duirs came along in another similar rig. Our driver was aHottentot half-caste from South Africa. He had a flat face, a yellowskin, a quiet manner, and a competent hand. His name was Michael. At hisfeet crouched a small Kikuyu savage, in blanket ear ornaments and allthe fixings, armed with a long lashed whip and raucous voice. Atany given moment he was likely to hop out over the moving wheel, runforward, bat the off leading mule, and hop back again, all with themost extraordinary agility. He likewise hurled what sounded like veryopprobrious epithets at such natives as did not get out the way quicklyenough to suit him. The expression of his face, which was that of aperson steeped in woe, never changed. 

We rattled out of Nairobi at a great pace, and swung into the Fort HallRoad. This famous thoroughfare, one of the three or four made roads inall East Africa, is about sixty miles long. It is a strategic necessitybut is used by thousands of natives on their way to see the sights ofthe great metropolis. As during the season there is no water for much ofthe distance, a great many pay for their curiosity with their lives. Theroad skirts the base of the hills, winding in and out of shallow canyonsand about the edges of rounded hills. To the right one can see far outacross the Athi Plains. 

We met an almost unbroken succession of people. There were long packtrains of women, quite cheerful, bent over under the weight of firewoodor vegetables, many with babies tucked away in the folds of theirgarments; mincing dandified warriors with poodle-dog hair, skewers intheir ears, their jewelery brought to a high polish a fatuous expressionof self-satisfaction on their faces, carrying each a section ofsugarcane which they now used as a staff but would later devour forlunch; bearers, under convoy of straight soldierly red-sashed Sudanese, transporting Government goods; wild-eyed staring shenzis from theforest, with matted hair and goatskin garments, looking ready to boltaside at the slightest alarm; coveys of marvellous and giggling damsels, their fine-grained skin anointed and shining with red oil, strung withbeads and shells, very coquettish and sure of their feminine charm;naked small boys marching solemnly like their elders; camel trains fromfar-off Abyssinia or Somaliland under convoy of white-clad turbanedgrave men of beautiful features; donkey safaris in charge of dirtydegenerate looking East Indians carrying trade goods to some distantpost-all these and many more, going one way or the other, drew one side, at the sight of our white faces, to let us pass. 

About two o'clock we suddenly turned off from the road, apparently quiteat random, down the long grassy interminable incline that dipped slowlydown and slowly up again over great distance to form the Athi Plains. Along the road, with its endless swarm of humanity, we had seen no game, but after a half mile it began to appear. We encountered herds of zebra, kongoni, wildebeeste, and "Tommies" standing about or grazing, sometimesalmost within range from the moving buckboard. After a time we made outthe trees and water tower of Juja ahead; and by four o'clock had turnedinto the avenue of trees. Our approach had been seen. Tea was ready, anda great and hospitable table of bottles, ice, and siphons. 

The next morning we inspected the stables, built of stone in a hollowsquare, like a fort, with box stalls opening directly into the courtyardand screened carefully against the deadly flies. The horses, beautifulcreatures, were led forth each by his proud and anxious syce. We triedthem all, and selected our mounts for the time of our stay. The syceswere small black men, lean and well formed, accustomed to running afootwherever their charges went, at walk, lope or gallop. Thus in a day theycovered incredible distances over all sorts of country; but were alwaysat hand to seize the bridle reins when the master wished to dismount. Like the rickshaw runners in Nairobi, they wore their hair clipped closearound their bullet heads and seemed to have developed into a smallcompact hard type of their own. They ate and slept with their horses. 

Just outside the courtyard of the stables a little barred window hadbeen cut through. Near this were congregated a number of Kikuyu savageswrapped in their blankets, receiving each in turn a portion of crackedcorn from a dusty white man behind the bars. They were a solemn, unsmiling, strange type of savage, and they performed all the manualwork within the enclosure, squatting on their heels and pullingmethodically but slowly at the weeds, digging with their pangas, carrying loads: to and fro, or solemnly pushing a lawn mower, blanketswrapped shamelessly about their necks. They were harried about by ared-faced beefy English gardener with a marvellous vocabulary ofseveral native languages and a short hippo-hide whip. He talked himselfabsolutely purple in the face without, as far as my observation went, penetrating an inch below the surface. The Kikuyus went right on doingwhat they were already doing in exactly the same manner. Probably thepurple Englishman was satisfied with that, but I am sure apoplexy ofeither the heat or thundering variety has him by now. 

Before the store building squatted another group of savages. Perhapsin time one of the lot expected to buy something; or possibly they justsat. Nobody but a storekeeper would ever have time to find out. Suchis the native way. The storekeeper in this case was named John. Besidesbeing storekeeper, he had charge of the issuing of all the housesupplies, and those for the white men's mess; he must do all theworrying about the upper class natives; he must occasionally kill abuck for the meat supply; and he must be prepared to take out any straytenderfeet that happen along during McMillan's absence, and persuadethem that they are mighty hunters. His domain was a fascinating place, for it contained everything from pianola parts to patent washstands. Thenext best equipped place of the kind I know of is the property room of amoving picture company. 

We went to mail a letter, and found the postmaster to be agentle-voiced, polite little Hindu, who greeted us smilingly, and attempted to conceal a work of art. We insisted; whereupon hedeprecatingly drew forth a copy of a newspaper cartoon having to do withColonel Roosevelt's visit. It was copied with mathematical exactness, and highly coloured in a manner to throw into profound melancholythe chauffeur of a coloured supplement press. We admired and praised;whereupon, still shyly, he produced more, and yet again more copiesof the same cartoon. When we left, he was reseating himself to thepainstaking valueless labour with which he filled his days. Three timesa week such mail as Juja gets comes in via native runner. We saw thelatter, a splendid figure, almost naked, loping easily, his littlebundle held before him. 

Down past the office and dispensary we strolled, by the comfortable, airy, white man's clubhouse. The headman of the native population passedus with a dignified salute; a fine upstanding deep-chested man, with alofty air of fierce pride. He and his handful of soldiers alone of thenatives, except the Somalis and syces, dwelt within the compound ina group of huts near the gate. There when off duty they might be seenpolishing their arms, or chatting with their women. The latter wereladies of leisure, with wonderful chignons, much jewelery, and patternedMericani wrapped gracefully about their pretty figures. 

By the time we had seen all these things it was noon. We ate lunch. Thevarious members of the party decided to do various things. I elected togo out with McMillan while he killed a wildebeeste, and I am very glad Idid. It was a most astonishing performance. 

You must imagine us driving out the gate in a buckboard behind foursmall but lively white Abyssinian mules. In the front seat were Michael, the Hottentot driver, and McMillan's Somali gunbearer. In the rear seatwere McMillan and myself, while a small black syce perched precariouslybehind. Our rifles rested in a sling before us. So we jogged out on theroad to Long Juju, examining with a critical eye the herds of game toright and left of us. The latter examined us, apparently, with an eye ascritical. Finally, in a herd of zebra, we espied a lone wildebeeste. 

The wildebeeste is the Jekyll and Hyde of the animal kingdom. Hisusual and familiar habit is that of a heavy, sluggish animal, likeour vanished bison. He stands solid and inert, his head down; he plodsslowly forward in single file, his horns swinging, each foot planteddeliberately. In short, he is the personification of dignity, solidrespectability, gravity of demeanour. But then all of a sudden, at anysmall interruption, he becomes the giddiest of created beings. Up goeshis head and tail, he buck jumps, cavorts, gambols, kicks up his heels, bounds stiff-legged, and generally performs like an irresponsibleinfant. To see a whole herd at once of these grave and reverendseigneurs suddenly blow up into such light-headed capers goes far todestroy one's faith in the stability of institutions. 

Also the wildebeeste is not misnamed. He is a conservative, and he seesno particular reason for allowing his curiosity to interfere with hispreconceived beliefs. The latter are distrustful. Therefore he and hisfemales and his young-I should say small-depart when one is yet faraway. I say small, because I do not believe that any wildebeeste is everyoung. They do not resemble calves, but are exact replicas of the bigones, just as Niobe's daughters are in nothing childlike, but merelysmaller women. 

When we caught sight of this lone wildebeeste among the zebra, Inaturally expected that we would pull up the buckboard, descend, andapproach to within some sort of long range. Then we would open fire. Barring luck, the wildebeeste would thereupon depart "wilder andbeestier than ever, " as John McCutcheon has it. Not at all! Michael, theHottentot, turned the buckboard off the road, headed toward the distantquarry, and charged at full speed! Over stones we went that sent us feetinto the air, down and out of shallow gullies that seemed as though theywould jerk the pole from the vehicle with a grand rattlety-bang, everyone hanging on for his life. I was entirely occupied with the state ofmy spinal column and the retention of my teeth, but McMillan must havebeen keeping his eye on the game. One peculiarity of the wildebeesteis that he cannot see behind him, and another is that he is curious. Itwould not require a very large bump of curiosity, however, to cause anyanimal to wonder what all the row was about. There could be no doubtthat this animal would sooner or later stop for an instant to look forthe purpose of seeing what was up in jungleland; and just beforedoing so he would, for a few steps, slow down from a gallop to a trot. McMillan was watching for this symptom. 

"Now!" he yelled, when he saw it. 

Instantly Michael threw his weight into the right rein and against thebrake. We swerved so violently to the right and stopped so suddenlythat I nearly landed on the broad prairies. The manoeuvre fetched us upbroadside. The small black syce-and heaven knows how HE had managed tohang on-darted to the heads of the leading mules. At the same moment thewildebeeste turned, and stopped; but even before he had swung his head, McMillan had fired. It was extraordinarily good, quick work, the way hepicked up the long range from the spurts of dust where the bullets hit. At the third or fourth shots he landed one. Immediately the beastwas off again at a tearing run pursued by a rapid fusillade from theremaining shots. Then with a violent jerk and a wild yell we were offagain. 

This time, since the animal was wounded, he made for rougher country. And everywhere that wildebeeste went we too were sure to go. We hitor shaved boulders that ought to have smashed a wheel, we tore throughthick brush regardless. Twice we charged unhesitatingly over apparentprecipices. I do not know the name of the manufacturer of the buckboard. If I did, I should certainly recommend it here. Twice more we swerved toour broadside and cut loose the port batteries. Once more McMillanhit. Then, on the fourth "run, " we gained perceptibly. The beast wasweakening. When he came to a stumbling halt we were not over a hundredyards from him, and McMillan easily brought him down. We had chased himfour or five miles, and McMillan had fired nineteen shots, of which twohad hit. The rifle practice throughout had been remarkably good, and atreat to watch. Personally, besides the fun of attending the show, I gota mighty good afternoon's exercise. 

We loaded the game aboard and jogged slowly back to the house, for themules were pretty tired. We found a neighbour, Mr. Heatley of KamitiRanch who had "dropped down" twelve miles to see us. On account of atheft McMillan now had all the Somalis assembled for interrogation onthe side verandas. The interrogation did not amount to much, but whileit was going on the Sudanese headman and his askaris were quietlysearching the boys' quarters. After a time they appeared. The suspectedmen had concealed nothing, but the searchers brought with them three ofMcMillan's shirts which they had found among the effects of another, andentirely unsuspected, boy named Abadie. 

"How is this, Abadie?" demanded McMillan sternly. 

Abadie hesitated. Then he evidently reflected that there is slight usein having a deity unless one makes use of him. 

"Bwana, " said he with an engaging air of belief and candour, "God musthave put them there!"

That evening we planned a "general day" for the morrow. We took boys andbuckboards and saddle-horses, beaters, shotguns, rifles, and revolvers, and we sallied forth for a grand and joyous time. The day from asporting standpoint was entirely successful, the bag consisting oftwo waterbuck, a zebra, a big wart-hog, six hares, and six grouse. Personally I was a little hazy and uncertain. By evening the fever hadme, and though I stayed at Juja for six days longer, it was as a patientto McMillan's unfailing kindness rather than as a participant in thelife of the farm. 

XXVIII. A RESIDENCE AT JUJA

A short time later, at about middle of the rainy season, McMillan leftfor a little fishing off Catalina Island. The latter is some fourteenthousand miles of travel from Juja. Before leaving on this flying trip, McMillan made us a gorgeous offer. 

"If, " said he, "you want to go it alone, you can go out and use Juja aslong as you please. "

This offer, or, rather, a portion of it, you may be sure, we acceptedpromptly. McMillan wanted in addition to leave us his servants; but tothis we would not agree. Memba Sasa and Mahomet were, of course, membersof our permanent staff. In addition to them we picked up another houseboy, named Leyeye. He was a Masai. These proud and aristocratic savagesrarely condescend to take service of any sort except as herders; butwhen they do they prove to be unusually efficient and intelligent. Wehad also a Somali cook, and six ordinary bearers to do general labour. This small safari we started off afoot for Juja. The whole lot cost usabout what we would pay one Chinaman on the Pacific Coast. 

Next day we ourselves drove out in the mule buckboard. The rains wereon, and the road was very muddy. After the vital tropical fashion thegrass was springing tall in the natural meadows and on the plains andthe brief-lived white lilies and an abundance of ground flowers washedthe slopes with colour. Beneath the grass covering, the entire surfaceof the ground was an inch or so deep in water. This was always mostsurprising, for, apparently, the whole country should have been highand dry. Certainly its level was that of a plateau rather than a bottomland; so that one seemed always to be travelling at an elevation. Nevertheless walking or riding we were continually splashing, and theonly dry going outside the occasional rare "islands" of the slightundulations we found near the very edge of the bluffs above the rivers. There the drainage seemed sufficient to carry off the excess. Elsewherethe hardpan or bedrock must have been exceptionally level and near thetop of the ground. 

Nothing nor nobody seemed to mind this much. The game splashed aroundmerrily, cropping at the tall grass; the natives slopped indifferently, and we ourselves soon became so accustomed to two or three inches ofwater and wet feet that after the first two days we never gave thosephenomena a thought. 

The world above at this season of the year was magnificent. The Africanheavens are always widely spacious, but now they seemed to have blowneven vaster than usual. In the sweep of the vision four or five heavyblack rainstorms would be trailing their skirts across an infinitelyremote prospect; between them white piled scud clouds and cumuli sailedlike ships; and from them reflected so brilliant a sunlight and behindall showed so dazzling a blue sky that the general impression was ofa fine day. The rainstorms' gray veils slanted; tremendous patches ofshadow lay becalmed on the plains; bright sunshine poured abundantly itswarmth and yellow light. 

So brilliant with both direct and reflected light and the values ofcontrast were the heavens, that when one happened to stand within one ofthe great shadows it became extraordinarily difficult to make out gameon the plains. The pupils contracted to the brilliancy overhead. Oftentoo, near sunset, the atmosphere would become suffused with a luridsaffron light that made everything unreal and ghastly. At such timesthe game seemed puzzled by the unusual aspect of things. The zebraespecially would bark and stamp and stand their ground, and even comenearer out of sheer curiosity. I have thus been within fifty yards ofthem, right out in the open. At such times it was as though the sky, instead of rounding over in the usual shape, had been thrust up at thewestern horizon to the same incredible height as the zenith. In thespace thus created were piled great clouds through which slanted broadbands of yellow light on a diminished world. 

It rained with great suddenness on our devoted heads, and with a curiouseffect of metamorphoslng the entire universe. One moment all was clearand smiling, with the trifling exception of distant rain squalls thatamounted to nothing in the general scheme. Then the horizon turnedblack, and with incredible swiftness the dark clouds materialized out ofnothing, rolled high to the zenith like a wave, blotted out every lastvestige of brightness. A heavy oppressive still darkness breathed overthe earth. Then through the silence came a faraway soft drumming sound, barely to be heard. As we bent our ears to catch this it grew louder andlouder, approaching at breakneck speed like a troop of horses. It becamea roar fairly terrifying in its mercilessly continued crescendo. At lastthe deluge of rain burst actually as a relief. 

And what a deluge! Facing it we found difficulty in breathing. In sixseconds every stitch we wore was soaked through, and only the notebook, tobacco, and matches bestowed craftily in the crown of the cork helmetescaped. The visible world was dark and contracted. It seemed thatnothing but rain could anywhere exist; as though this storm must fillall space to the horizon and beyond. Then it swept on and we foundourselves steaming in bright sunlight. The dry flat prairie (if thiswas the first shower for some time) had suddenly become a lake from thesurface of which projected bushes and clumps of grass. Every game trailhad become the water course of a swiftly running brook. 

But most pleasant were the evenings at Juja, when, safe indoors, we satand listened to the charge of the storm's wild horsemen, and the thunderof its drumming on the tin roof. The onslaughts were as fierce andabrupt as those of Cossacks, and swept by as suddenly. The roar diedaway in the distance, and we could then hear the steady musical drippingof waters. 

Pleasant it was also to walk out from Juja in almost any direction. Thecompound, and the buildings and trees within it, soon dwindled in thedistances of the great flat plain. Herds of game were always insight, grazing, lying down, staring in our direction. The animalswere incredibly numerous. Some days they were fairly tame, and othersexceedingly wild, without any rhyme or reason. This shyness or thereverse seemed not to be individual to one herd; but to be practicallyuniversal. On a "wild day" everything was wild from the Lone Treeto Long Juju. It would be manifestly absurd to guess at the reason. Possibly the cause might be atmospheric or electrical; possibly days ofnervousness might follow nights of unusual activity by the lions; onecould invent a dozen possibilities. Perhaps the kongonis decided it. 

At Juja we got to know the kongonis even better than we had before. They are comical, quizzical beasts, with long-nosed humorous faces, asingularly awkward construction, a shambling gait; but with altruisticdispositions and an ability to get over the ground at an extraordinaryspeed. Every move is a joke; their expression is always one of grievedbut humorous astonishment. They quirk their heads sidewise or down andstare at an intruder with the most comical air of skeptical wonder. "Well, look who's here!" says the expression. 

"Pooh!" says the kongoni himself, after a good look, "pooh! pooh!" withthe most insulting inflection. 

He is very numerous and very alert. One or more of a grazing herd arealways perched as sentinels atop ant hills or similar small elevations. On the slightest intimation of danger they give the alarm, whereupon theherd makes off at once, gathering in all other miscellaneous game thatmay be in the vicinity. They will go out of their way to do this, asevery African hunter knows. It immensely complicates matters; for thesportsman must not only stalk his quarry, but he must stalk each andevery kongoni as well. Once, in another part of the country, C. And Isaw a kongoni leave a band of its own species far down to our right, gallop toward us and across our front, pick up a herd of zebra we weretrying to approach and make off with them to safety. We cursed thatkongoni, but we admired him, for he deliberately ran out of safety intodanger for the purpose of warning those zebra. So seriously do they taketheir job as policemen of the plains that it is very common for a lazysingle animal of another species to graze in a herd of kongonis simplyfor the sake of protection. Wildebeeste are much given to this. 

The kongoni progresses by a series of long high bounds. While inmidair he half tucks up his feet, which gives him the appearance of anautomatic toy. This gait looks deliberate, but is really quite fast, asthe mounted sportsman discovers when he enters upon a vain pursuit. Ifthe horse is an especially good one, so that the kongoni feels himselfa trifle closely pressed, the latter stops bouncing and runs. Then hesimply fades away into the distance. 

These beasts are also given to chasing each other all over thelandscape. When a gentleman kongoni conceives a dislike for anothergentleman kongoni, he makes no concealment of his emotions, but marchesup and prods him in the ribs. The ensuing battle is usually foughtout very stubbornly with much feinting, parrying, clashing of thelyre-shaped horns; and a good deal of crafty circling for a favourableopening. As far as I was ever able to see not much real damage isinflicted; though I could well imagine that only skilful fence preventedunpleasant punctures in soft spots. After a time one or the other feelshimself weakening. He dashes strongly in, wheels while his antagonist isbraced, and makes off. The enemy pursues. Then, apparently, the chaseis on for the rest of the day. The victor is not content merely to drivehis rival out of the country; he wants to catch him. On that object heis very intent; about as intent as the other fellow is of getting away. I have seen two such beasts almost run over a dozen men who were makingno effort to keep out of sight. Long after honour is satisfied, indeed, as it seems to me, long after the dictates of common decency would calla halt that persistent and single-minded pursuer bounds solemnly andconscientiously along in the wake of his disgusted rival. 

These and the zebra and wildebeeste were at Juja the most conspicuousgame animals. If they could not for the moment be seen from the verandaof the house itself, a short walk to the gate was sufficient to revealmany hundreds. Among them fed herds of the smaller Thompson's gazelle, or "Tommies. " So small were they that only their heads could be seenabove the tall grass as they ran. 

To me there was never-ending fascination in walking out over thosesloppy plains in search of adventure, and in the pleasure of watchingthe beasts. Scarcely less fascination haunted a stroll down the rivercanyons or along the tops of the bluffs above them. Here the country wasbroken into rocky escarpments in which were caves; was clothed with lowand scattered brush; or was wooded in the bottom lands. Naturally anentirely different set of animals dwelt here; and in addition one wasoften treated to the romance of surprise. Herds of impalla haunted theseedges; graceful creatures, trim and pretty with wide horns and beautifulglowing red coats. Sometimes they would venture out on the open plains, in a very compact band, ready to break back for cover at the slightestalarm; but generally fed inside the fringe of bushes. Once from thebluff above I saw a beautiful herd of over a hundred pacing decorouslyalong the river bottom below me, single file, the oldest buck at thehead, and the miscellaneous small buck bringing up the rear after thedoes. I shouted at them. Immediately the solemn procession broke. Theybegan to leap, springing straight up into the air as though from areleased spring, or diving forward and upward in long graceful boundslike dolphins at sea. These leaps were incredible. Several even jumpedquite over the backs of others; and all without a semblance of effort. 

Along the fringe of the river, too, dwelt the lordly waterbuck, magnificent and proud as the stags of Landseer; and the tiny steinbuckand duiker, no bigger than jack-rabbits, but perfect little deer forall that. The incredibly plebeian wart-hog rooted about; and down inthe bottom lands were leopards. I knocked one off a rock one day. Inthe river itself dwelt hippopotamuses and crocodiles. One of the latterdragged under a yearling calf just below the house itself, and whilewe were there. Besides these were of course such affairs as hyenas andjackals, and great numbers of small game: hares, ducks, three kinds ofgrouse, guinea fowl, pigeons, quail, and jack snipe, not to speak of avariety of plover. 

In the drier extents of dry grass atop the bluffs the dance birds wereespecially numerous; each with his dance ring nicely trodden out, eachleaping and falling rhythmically for hours at a time. Toward sunsetgreat flights of sand grouse swarmed across the yellowing sky from somedistant feeding ground. 

Near Juja I had one of the three experiences that especially impressedon my mind the abundance of African big game. I had stalked and woundeda wildebeeste across the N'derogo River, and had followed him a mileor so afoot, hoping to be able to put in a finishing shot. As sometimeshappens the animal rather gained strength as time went on; so Isignalled for my horse, mounted, and started out to run him down. Aftera quarter mile we began to pick up the game herds. Those directly inour course ran straight away; other herds on either side, seeing themrunning, came across in a slant to join them. Inside of a half mile Iwas driving before me literally thousands of head of game of severalvarieties. The dust rose in a choking cloud that fairly obscured thelandscape, and the drumming of the hooves was like the stampeding ofcattle. It was a wonderful sight. 

On the plains of Juja, also, I had my one real African Adventure, when, as in the Sunday Supplements, I Stared Death in the Face-alsoeverlasting disgrace and much derision. We were just returning to thefarm after an afternoon's walk, and as we approached I began to lookaround for much needed meat. A herd of zebra stood in sight; so leavingMemba Sasa I began to stalk them. My usual weapon for this sort of thingwas the Springfield, for which I carried extra cartridges in my belt. Onthis occasion, however, I traded with Memba Sasa for the 405, simply forthe purpose of trying it out. At a few paces over three hundred yardsI landed on the zebra, but did not knock him down. Then I set out tofollow. It was a long job and took me far, for again and again he joinedother zebra, when, of course, I could not tell one from t'other. My onlyexpedient was to frighten the lot. There upon the uninjured ones woulddistance the one that was hurt. The latter kept his eye on me. WheneverI managed to get within reasonable distance, I put up the rear sight ofthe 405, and let drive. I heard every shot hit, and after each hit wasmore than a little astonished to see the zebra still on his feet, andstill able to wobble on. * The fifth shot emptied the rifle. As I had nomore cartridges for this arm, I approached to within sixty yards, andstopped to wait either for him to fall, or for a very distant Memba Sasato come up with more cartridges. Then the zebra waked up. He put hisears back and came straight in my direction. This rush I took for ablind death flurry, and so dodged off to one side, thinking that hewould of course go by me. Not at all! He swung around on the circle too, and made after me. I could see that his ears were back, eyes blazing, and his teeth snapping with rage. It was a malicious charge, and, assuch, with due deliberation, I offer it to sportsman's annals. As I hadno more cartridges I ran away as fast as I could go. Although I maderather better time than ever I had attained to before, it was evidentthat the zebra would catch me; and as the brute could paw, bite, andkick, I did not much care for the situation. Just as he had nearlyreached me, and as I was trying to figure on what kind of a fight Icould put up with a clubbed rifle barrel, he fell dead. To be killed bya lion is at least a dignified death; but to be mauled by a zebra!

I am sorry I did not try out this heavy-calibred rifle oftener at longrange. It was a marvellously effective weapon at close quarters; but Ihave an idea-but only a tentative idea-that above three hundred yardsits velocity is so reduced by air resistance against the big bluntbullet as greatly to impair its hitting powers. 

We generally got back from our walks or rides just before dark to findthe house gleaming with lights, a hot bath ready, and a tray of goodwet drinks next the easy chairs. There, after changing our clothes, wesipped and read the papers-two months off the press, but fresh arrivedfor all that-until a white-robed, dignified figure appeared in thedoorway to inform us that dinner was ready. Our ways were civilized andsoft, then, until the morrow when once again, perhaps, we went forthinto the African wilderness. 

Juja is a place of startling contrasts-of naked savages clipping formalhedges, of windows opening from a perfectly appointed brilliantlylighted dining-room to a night whence float the lost wails of hyenas orthe deep grumbling of lions, of cushioned luxurious chairs in reachof many books, but looking out on hills where the game herds feed, of comfortable beds with fine linen and soft blankets where one lieslistening to the voices of an African night, or the weirder minor housenoises whose origin and nature no man could guess, of tennis courts andsummer houses, of lawns and hammocks, of sundials and clipped hedgesseparated only by a few strands of woven wire from fields identical withthose in which roamed the cave men of the Pleistocene. But to Billy wasreserved the most ridiculous contrast of all. Her bedroom opened to averanda a few feet above a formal garden. This was a very formal garden, with a sundial, gravelled walks, bordered flower beds, and clippedborder hedges. One night she heard a noise outside. Slipping on a warmwrap and seizing her trusty revolver she stole out on the veranda toinvestigate. She looked over the veranda rail. There just below her, trampling the flower beds, tracking the gravel walks, endangering thesundial, stood a hippopotamus!

We had neighbours six or seven miles away. At times they came down tospend the night and luxuriate in the comforts of civilization. They werea Lady A. , and her nephew, and a young Scotch acquaintance the nephewhad taken into partnership. They had built themselves circular housesof papyrus reeds with conical thatched roofs and earth floors, hadpurchased ox teams and gathered a dozen or so Kikuyus, and were engagedin breaking a farm in the wilderness. The life was rough and hard, andLady A. And her nephew gently bred, but they seemed to be having quitecheerfully the time of their lives. The game furnished them meat, as itdid all of us, and they hoped in time that their labours would make theland valuable and productive. Fascinating as was the life, it was alsoone of many deprivations. At Juja were a number of old copies of Life, the pretty girls in which so fascinated the young men that we broke thelaws of propriety by presenting them, though they did not belong to us. C. , the nephew, was of the finest type of young Englishman, cleancut, enthusiastic, good looking, with an air of engaging vitalityand optimism. His partner, of his own age, was an insufferable youth. Brought up in some small Scottish valley, his outlook had neverwidened. Because he wanted to buy four oxen at a cheaper price, he trieddesperately to abrogate quarantine regulations. If he had succeeded, hewould have made a few rupees, but would have introduced disease in hisneighbours' herds. This consideration did not affect him. He was muchgiven to sneering at what he could not understand; and therefore, agreat deal met with his disapproval. His reading had evidently broughthim down only to about the middle sixties; and affairs at that date wereto him still burning questions. Thus he would declaim vehemently overthe Alabama claims. 

"I blush with shame, " he would cry, "when I think of England's attitudein that matter. "

We pointed out that the dispute had been amicably settled by the bestminds of the time, had passed between the covers of history, and hadgiven way in immediate importance to several later topics. 

"This vacillating policy, " he swept on, "annoys me. For my part, Ishould like to see so firm a stand taken on all questions that in anypart of the world, whenever a man, and wherever a man, said 'I am anEnglishman? everybody else would draw back!'"

He was an incredible person. However, I was glad to see him; he and afew others of his kind have consoled me for a number of Americans I havemet abroad. Lady A. , with the tolerant philosophy of her class, seemedmerely amused. I have often since wondered how this ill-assortedpartnership turned out. 

Two other neighbours of ours dropped in once or twice-twenty-six mileson bicycles, on which they could ride only a portion of the distance. They had some sort of a ranch up in the Ithanga Hills; and were two ofthe nicest fellows one would want to meet, brimful of energy, game foranything, and had so good a time always that the grumpiest fever couldnot prevent every one else having a good time too. Once they rodeon their bicycles forty miles to Nairobi, danced half the night ata Government House ball, rode back in the early morning, and did anafternoon's plowing! They explained this feat by pointing out mostconvincingly that the ground was just right for plowing, but they didnot want to miss the ball!

Occasionally a trim and dapper police official would drift in onhorseback looking for native criminals; and once a safari came by. Twelve miles away was the famous Kamiti Farm of Heatly, where Rooseveltkilled his buffalo; and once or twice Heatly himself, a fine chap, cameto see us. Also just before I left with Duirs for a lion hunt on Kapiti, Lady Girouard, wife of the Governor, and her nephew and niece rode outfor a hunt. In the African fashion, all these people brought their ownpersonal servants. It makes entertaining easy. Nobody knows where allthese boys sleep; but they manage to tuck away somewhere, and alwaysshow up after a mysterious system of their own whenever there isanything to be done. 

We stayed at Juja a little over three weeks. Then most reluctantly saidfarewell and returned to Nairobi in preparation for a long trip to thesouth. 

XXIX. CHAPTER THE LAST

With our return from Juja to Nairobi for a breathing space, this volumecomes to a logical conclusion. In it I have tried to give a fairlycomprehensive impression-it could hardly be a picture of so large asubject-of a portion of East Equatorial Africa, its animals, and itspeople. Those who are sufficiently interested will have an opportunityin a succeeding volume of wandering with us even farther afield. Thelow jungly coast region; the fierce desert of the Serengetti; the swiftsullen rhinoceros-haunted stretches of the Tsavo; Nairobi, the strangestmixture of the twentieth centuries A. D. And B. C. ; Mombasa with its wild, barbaric passionate ebb and flow of life, of colour, of throbbing sound, the great lions of the Kapiti Plains, the Thirst of the Loieta, theMasai spearmen, the long chase for the greater kudu; the wonderful, highunknown country beyond the Narossara and other affairs will there bedetailed. If the reader of this volume happens to want more, there hewill find it. 

APPENDIX I

Most people are very much interested in how hot it gets in such tropicsas we traversed. Unfortunately it is very difficult to tell them. Temperature tables have very little to do with the matter, for humidityvaries greatly. On the Serengetti at lower reaches of the Guaso NyeroI have seen it above 110 degrees. It was hot, to be sure, but notexhaustingly so. On the other hand, at 90 or 95 degrees the low coastbelt I have had the sweat run from me literally in streams; so that amuddy spot formed wherever I stood still. In the highlands, moreover, the nights were often extremely cold. I have recorded night temperaturesas low as 40 at 7000 feet of elevation; and noon temperatures as low 65. 

Of more importance than the actual or sensible temperature of the airis the power of the sun's rays. At all times of year this is practicallyconstant; for the orb merely swings a few degrees north and south ofthe equator, and the extreme difference in time between its risings orsettings is not more than twenty minutes. This power is also practicallyconstant whatever the temperature of the air and is dangerous even on acloudy day, when the heat waves are effectually screened off, but whenthe actinic rays are as active as ever. For this reason the protectionof helmet and spine pad should never be omitted, no matter what thecondition of the weather, between nine o'clock and four. A very briefexposure is likely to prove fatal. It should be added that some peoplestand these actinic rays better than others. 

Such being the case, mere temperature tables could have little interestto the general reader. I append a few statistics, selected from many, and illustrative of the different conditions. 

 Locality. Elevation 6am noon 8pm Apparent conditions Coast --- 80 90 76 Very hot and sticky Isiola River 2900 65 94 84 Hot but not exhausting Tans River 3350 68 98 79 Hot but not exhausting Near Meru 5450 62 80 70 Very pleasant Serengetti Plains 2200 78 106 86 Hot and humid Narossara River 5450 54 89 69 Very pleasant Narossara Mts. 7400 42 80 50 Chilly Narossara Mts. 6450 40 62 52 Cold

APPENDIX II

GAME ANIMALS COLLECTED

 Lion Bush pig Grant's gazelle Serval cat Baboon Thompson's gazelle Cheetah Colobus Gerenuk gazelle Black-backed jackal Hippopotamus Coke's hartebeests Silver jackal Rhinoceros Jackson's hartebeests Striped hyena Crocodile Neuman's hartebeests Spotted hyena Python Chandler's reedbuck Fennec fox Ward's zebra Bohur reedbuck Honey badger Grevy's zebra Beisa ox Aardewolf Notata gazelle Fringe-eared oryx Wart-hog Roberts' gazelle Duiker Waterbuck Klipspringer Harvey's duiker Sing-sing Dik-dik Greater kudu Oribi (3 varieties) Wildebeeste Lesser kudu Eland Roosevelt's wildebeests Sable antelope Roan antelope Buffalo Bushbuck Topi

 Total, fifty-four kinds

GAME BIRDS COLLECTED

 Marabout Gadwall Lesser bustard Egret European stork Guinea fowl Glossy ibis Quail Giant guinea fowl Egyptian goose Sand grouse Green pigeon White goose Francolin Blue pigeon English snipe Spur fowl Dove (2 species) Mallard duck Greater bustard

 Total, twenty-two kinds

APPENDIX III

For the benefit of the sportsman and gun crank who want plain facts andno flapdoodle, the following statistics are offered. To the lay readerthis inclusion will be incomprehensible; but I know my gun crank as I amone myself!

Army Springfield, model 1903 to take the 1906 cartridge, shooting theSpitzer sharp point bullet. Stocked to suit me by Ludwig Wundhammer, and fitted with Sheard gold bead front sight and Lyman aperturereceiver sight. With this I did most my shooting, as the trajectory wasremarkably good, and the killing power remarkable. Tried out both theold-fashioned soft point bullets and the sharp Spitzer bullets, but findthe latter far the more effective. In fact the paralyzing shock givenby the Spitzer is almost beyond belief. African animals are notablytenacious of life; but the Springfield dropped nearly half the animalsdead with one shot; a most unusual record, as every sportsman willrecognize. The bullets seemed on impact always to flatten slightly atthe base, the point remaining intact-to spin widely on the axis, andto plunge off at an angle. This action of course depended on the highvelocity. The requisite velocity, however seemed to keep up within allshooting ranges. A kongoni I killed at 638 paces (measured), and anotherat 566 paces both exhibited this action of the bullet. I mention theseranges because I have seen the statement in print that the remainingvelocity beyond 350 yards would not be sufficient in this arm to preventthe bullet passing through cleanly. I should also hasten to add that Ido not habitually shoot at game at the above ranges; but did so in thesetwo instances for the precise purpose of testing the arm. Metal foulingdid not bother me at all, though I had been led to expect trouble fromit. The weapon was always cleaned with water so boiling hot that theheat of the barrel dried it. When occasionally flakes of metal foulingbecame visible a Marble brush always sufficed to remove enough of it. Itwas my habit to smear the bullets with mobilubricant before placingthem in the magazine. This was not as much of a nuisance as it sounds. Asmall tin box about the size of a pill box lasted me the whole trip; andonly once did I completely empty the magazine at one time. On my returnI tested the rifle very thoroughly for accuracy. In spite of carefulcleaning the barrel was in several places slightly corroded. For thisthe climate was responsible. The few small pittings, however, did notseem in any way to have affected the accuracy, as the rifle shot thefollowing groups: 3-1/2 inches at 200 yards; 7-1/4 inches at 300 yards;and 11-1/2 inches at 500 yards. *

 * It shot one five-shot 1-2/3 inch group at 200 yds. , and several others at all distances less than the figures given, but I am convinced these must have been largely accidental. 

These groups were not made from a machine rest, however; as none wasavailable. The complete record with this arm for my whole stay in Africawas 307 hits out of 395 cartridges fired, representing 185 head of gamekilled. Most of this shooting was for meat and represented also allsorts of "varmints" as well. 

The 405 Winchester. This weapon was sighted like the Springfield, andwas constantly in the field as my second gun. For lions it could not bebeaten; as it was very accurate, delivered a hard blow, and heldfive cartridges. Beyond 125 to 150 yards one had to begin to guess atdistance, so for ordinary shooting I preferred the Springfield. Inthick brush country, however, where one was likely to come suddenlyon rhinoceroes, but where one wanted to be ready always for desirablesmaller game, the Winchester was just the thing. It was short, handy, and reliable. One experience with a zebra 300-350 yards has made mequestion whether at long (hunting) ranges the remaining velocity of thebig blunt nosed bullet is not seriously reduced; but as to that I havenot enough data for a final conclusion. I have no doubt, however, thatat such ranges, and beyond, the little Springfield has more shockingpower. Of course at closer ranges the Winchester is by far the morepowerful. I killed one rhinoceros with the 405, one buffalo and onehippo; but should consider it too light for an emergency gun againstthe larger dangerous animals, such as buffalo and rhinoceros. If one hastime for extreme accuracy, and can pick the shot, it is plenty big; butI refer now to close quarters in a hurry. I had no trouble whatever withthe mechanism of this arm; nor have I ever had trouble with any of thelever actions, although I have used them for many years. As regardsspeed of fire the controversy between the lever and bolt actionadvocates seems to me foolish in the extreme. Either action can be firedfaster than it should be fired in the presence of game. It is my beliefthat any man, no matter how practised or how cool, can stampede himselfbeyond his best accuracy by pumping out his shots too rapidly. This isespecially true in the face of charging dangerous game. So firmly do Ibelieve this that I generally take the rifle from my shoulder betweeneach shot. Even aimed rapid fire is of no great value as compared withbetter aimed slower fire. The first bullet delivers to an animal'snervous system about all the shock it can absorb. If the beast is notthereby knocked down and held down, subsequent shots can accomplish thatdesirable result only by reaching a vital spot or by tearing tissue. As an example of this I might instance a waterbuck into which I sawmy companion empty five heavy 465 and double 500 bullets from corditerifles before it fell! Thus if the game gets to its feet after the firstshock, it is true that the hunter will often empty into it six or sevenmore bullets without apparent result, unless he aims carefully for acentrally vital point. It follows that therefore a second shot aimedwith enough care to land it in that point is worth a lot more than ahalf dozen delivered in three or four seconds with only the accuracynecessary to group decently at very short range, even if all of themhit the beast. I am perfectly aware that this view will probablybe disputed; but it is the result of considerable experience, closeobservation and real interest in the game. The whole record of theWinchester was 56 hits out of 70 cartridges fired; representing 27 headof game. 

The 465 Holland & Holland double cordite rifle. This beautiful weapon, built and balanced like a fine hammerless shotgun, was fitted with opensights. It was of course essentially a close range emergency gun, butwas capable of accurate work at a distance. I killed one buffalo deadwith it, across a wide canyon, with the 300-yard leaf up on theback sight. Its game list however was limited to rhinoceroses, hippopotamuses, buffaloes and crocodiles. The recoil in spite of itsweight of twelve and one half pounds, was tremendous; but unnoticeablewhen I was shooting at any of these brutes. Its total record was 31cartridges fired with 29 hits representing 13 head of game. 

The conditions militating against marksmanship are often severe. Hardwork in the tropics is not the most steadying regime in the world, andoutside a man's nerves, he is often bothered by queer lights, and theeffects of the mirage that swirls from the sun-heated plain. The ranges, too, are rather long. I took the trouble to pace out about every kill, and find that antelope in the plains averaged 245 yards; with a maximumof 638 yards, while antelope in covered country averaged 148 yards, witha maximum of 311. 

APPENDIX IV. THE AMERICAN IN AFRICA

IN WHICH HE APPEARS AS DIFFERENT FROM THE ENGLISHMAN

It is always interesting to play the other fellow's game his way, andthen, in light of experience, to see wherein our way and his way modifyeach other. 

The above proposition here refers to camping. We do considerable of itin our country, especially in our North and West. After we have beenat it for some time, we evolve a method of our own. The basis of thatmethod is to do without; to GO LIGHT. At first even the best of us willcarry too much plunder, but ten years of philosophy and rainstorms, trails and trials, will bring us to an irreducible minimum. A party ofthree will get along with two pack horses, say; or, on a harder trip, each will carry the necessities on his own back. To take just as littleas is consistent with comfort is to play the game skilfully. Any articlemust pay in use for its transportation. 

With this ideal deeply ingrained by the test of experience, the Americancamper is appalled by the caravan his British cousins consider necessaryfor a trip into the African back country. His said cousin has, perhaps, very kindly offered to have his outfit ready for him when he arrives. He does arrive to find from one hundred to one hundred and fifty mengathered as his personal attendants. 

"Great Scot!" he cries, "I want to go camping; I don't want to invadeanybody's territory. Why the army?"

He discovers that these are porters, to carry his effects. 

"What effects?" he demands, bewildered. As far as he knows, he hastwo guns, some ammunition, and a black tin box, bought in London, andhalf-filled with extra clothes, a few medicines, a thermometer, andsome little personal knick-knacks. He has been wondering what else heis going to put in to keep things from rattling about. Of course heexpected besides these to take along a little plain grub, and someblankets, and a frying pan and kettle or so. 

The English friend has known several Americans, so he explainspatiently. 

"I know this seems foolish to you, " he says, "but you must remember youare under the equator and you must do things differently here. As longas you keep fit you are safe; but if you get run down a bit you'll go. You've got to do yourself well, down here, rather better than you haveto in any other climate. You need all the comfort you can get; and youwant to save yourself all you can. "

This has a reasonable sound and the American does not yet know the game. Recovering from his first shock, he begins to look things over. Thereis a double tent, folding camp chair, folding easy chair, folding table, wash basin, bath tub, cot, mosquito curtains, clothes hangers; there areoil lanterns, oil carriers, two loads of mysterious cooking utensils andcook camp stuff; there is an open fly, which his friend explains is hisdining tent; and there are from a dozen to twenty boxes standing in arow, each with its padlock. "I didn't go in for luxury, " apologizes theEnglish friend. "Of course we can easily add anything you want but Iremember you wrote me that you wanted to travel light. "

"What are those?" our American inquires, pointing to the locked boxes. 

He learns that they are chop boxes, containing food and supplies. Atthis he rises on his hind legs and paws the air. 

"Food!" he shrieks. "Why, man alive, I'm alone, and I am only going tobe out three months! I can carry all I'll ever eat in three months inone of those boxes. "

But the Englishman patiently explains. You cannot live on "bacon andbeans" in this country, so to speak. You must do yourself rather well, you know, to keep in condition. And you cannot pack food in bags, it must be tinned. And then, of course, such things as your sparkletsiphons and lime juice require careful packing-and your champagne. 

"Champagne, " breathes the American in awestricken tones. 

"Exactly, dear boy, an absolute necessity. After a touch of sun there'snothing picks you up better than a mouthful of fizz. It's used as amedicine, not a drink, you understand. "

The American reflects again that this is the other fellow's game, andthat the other fellow has been playing it for some time, and that heought to know. But he cannot yet see why the one hundred and fifty men. Again the Englishman explains. There is the Headman to run the show. Correct: we need him. Then there are four askaris. What are they? Nativesoldiers. No, you won't be fighting anything; but they keep the mengoing, and act as sort of sub-foremen in bossing the complicated work. Next is your cook, and your own valet and that of your horse. Also yourtwo gunbearers. 

"Hold on!" cries our friend. "I have only two guns, and I'm going tocarry one myself. "

But this, he learns, is quite impossible. It is never done. It isabsolutely necessary, in this climate, to avoid all work. 

That makes how many? Ten already, and there seem to be three tentloads, one bed load, one chair and table load, one lantern load, twomiscellaneous loads, two cook loads, one personal box, and fifteen chopboxes-total twenty-six, plus the staff, as above, thirty-six. Why allthe rest of the army?

Very simple: these thirty-six men have, according to regulation, seventents, and certain personal effects, and they must have "potio" or aration of one and a half pounds per diem. These things must be carriedby more men. 

"I see, " murmurs the American, crushed, "and these more men have moretents and more potio, which must also be carried. It's like the Housethat Jack Built. "

So our American concludes still once again that the other fellow knowshis own game, and starts out. He learns he has what is called a "modestsafari"; and spares a fleeting wonder as to what a really elaboratesafari must be. The procession takes the field. He soon sees the valueof the four askaris-the necessity of whom he has secretly doubted. Without their vigorous seconding the headman would have a hard timeindeed. Also, when he observes the labour of tent-making, packing, washing, and general service performed by his tent boy, he abandons thenotion that that individual could just as well take care of the horse aswell, especially as the horse has to have all his grass cut and broughtto him. At evening our friend has a hot bath, a long cool fizzly drinkof lime juice and soda; he puts on the clean clothes laid out for him, assumes soft mosquito boots, and sits down to dinner. This is servedto him in courses, and on enamel ware. Each course has its proper-sizedplate and cutlery. He starts with soup, goes down through tinnedwhitebait or other fish, an entree, a roast, perhaps a curry, a sweet, and small coffee. He is certainly being "done well, " and he enjoys thecomfort of it. 

There comes a time when he begins to wonder a little. It is all verypleasant, of course, and perhaps very necessary; they all tell him itis. But, after all, it is a little galling to the average man to thinkthat of him. Your Englishman doesn't mind that; he enjoys being takencare of: but the sportsman of American training likes to stand on hisown feet as far as he is able and conditions permit. Besides, it isexpensive. Besides that, it is a confounded nuisance, especially whenpotio gives out and more must be sought, near or far. Then, if he iswise, he begins to do a little figuring on his own account. 

My experience was very much as above. Three of us went out for elevenweeks with what was considered a very "modest" safari indeed. Itcomprised one hundred and eighteen men. My fifth and last trip, alsowith two companions, was for three months. Our personnel consisted, alltold, forty men. 

In essentials the Englishman is absolutely right. One cannot camp inAfrica as one would at home. The experimenter would be dead in a month. In his application of that principle, however, he seems to the Americanpoint of view to overshoot. Let us examine his proposition in terms ofthe essentials-food, clothing, shelter. There is no doubt but that a manmust keep in top condition as far as possible; and that, to do so, hemust have plenty of good food. He can never do as we do on very hardtrips at home: take a little tea, sugar, coffee, flour, salt, oatmeal. But on the other hand, he certainly does not need a five-course dinnerevery night, nor a complete battery of cutlery, napery and table ware toeat it from. Flour, sugar, oatmeal, tea and coffee, rice, beans, onions, curry, dried fruits, a little bacon, and some dehydrated vegetableswill do him very well indeed-with what he can shoot. These will pack inwaterproof bags very comfortably. In addition to feeding himself well, he finds he must not sleep next to the ground, he must have a hot bathevery day, but never a cold one, and he must shelter himself with adouble tent against the sun. 

Those are the absolute necessities of the climate. In other words, ifhe carries a double tent, a cot, a folding bath; and gives a littleattention to a properly balanced food supply, he has met the situation. 

If, in addition, he takes canned goods, soda siphons, lime juice, easychairs and all the rest of the paraphernalia, he is merely using a basicprinciple as an excuse to include sheer luxuries. In further extenuationof this he is apt to argue that porters are cheap, and that it costsbut little more to carry these extra comforts. Against this argument, ofcourse, I have nothing to say. It is the inalienable right of everyman to carry all the luxuries he wants. My point is that the averageAmerican sportsman does not want them, and only takes them because he isoverpersuaded that these things are not luxuries, but necessities. For, mark you, he could take the same things into the Sierras or the North-bypaying; but he doesn't. 

I repeat, it is the inalienable right of any man to travel asluxuriously as he pleases. But by the same token it is not his right topretend that luxuries are necessities. That is to put himself into thesame category with the man who always finds some other excuse for takinga drink than the simple one that he wants it. 

The Englishman's point of view is that he objects to "pigging it, " ashe says. "Pigging it" means changing your home habits in any way. If youhave been accustomed to eating your sardines after a meal, and somebodyoffers them to you first, that is "pigging it. " In other words, asnearly as I can make out, "pigging it" does not so much mean doingthings in an inadequate fashion as DOING THEM DIFFERENTLY. Therefore, the Englishman in the field likes to approximate as closely as may behis life in town, even if it takes one hundred and fifty men to do it. Which reduces the "pigging it" argument to an attempt at condemnation bycalling names. 

The American temperament, on the contrary, being more experimentaland independent, prefers to build anew upon its essentials. Where theEnglishman covers the situation blanket-wise with his old institutions, the American prefers to construct new institutions on the necessities ofthe case. He objects strongly to being taken care of too completely. Heobjects strongly to losing the keen enjoyment of overcoming difficultiesand enduring hardships. The Englishman by habit and training has no suchobjections. He likes to be taken care of, financially, personally, andeverlastingly. That is his ideal of life. If he can be taken care ofbetter by employing three hundred porters and packing eight tin trunksof personal effects-as I have seen it done-he will so employ and take. That is all right: he likes it. 

But the American does not like it. A good deal of the fun for him is ingoing light, in matching himself against his environment. It is nofun to him to carry his complete little civilization along with him, laboriously. If he must have cotton wool, let it be as little cottonwool as possible. He likes to be comfortable; but he likes to becomfortable with the minimum of means. Striking just the proper balancesomehow adds to his interest in the game. And how he DOES object tothat ever-recurring thought-that he is such a helpless mollusc that itrequires a small regiment to get him safely around the country!

Both means are perfectly legitimate, of course; and neither view isopen to criticism. All either man is justified in saying is that he, personally, wouldn't get much fun out of doing it the other way. As amatter of fact, human nature generally goes beyond its justificationsand is prone to criticise. The Englishman waxes a trifle caustic on thesubject of "pigging it"; and the American indulges in more than a bitof sarcasm on the subject of "being led about Africa like a dog on astring. "

By some such roundabout mental process as the above the American comesto the conclusion that he need not necessarily adopt the other fellow'smethod of playing this game. His own method needs modification, but itwill do. He ventures to leave out the tables and easy chair, takes acamp stool and eats off a chop box. To the best of his belief his healthdoes not suffer from this. He gets on with a camper's allowance ofplate, cup and cutlery, and so cuts out a load and a half of assortedkitchen utensils and table ware. He even does without a tablecloth andnapkins! He discards the lime juice and siphons, and purchases acanvas evaporation bag to cool the water. He fires one gunbearer, andundertakes the formidable physical feat of carrying one of his rifleshimself. And, above all, he modifies that grub list. The purchase ofwaterproof bags gets rid of a lot of tin: the staple groceries do quiteas well as London fancy stuff. Golden syrup takes the place of all themiscellaneous jams, marmalades and other sweets. The canned goods goby the board. He lays in a stock of dried fruit. At the end, he ispossessed of a grub list but little different from that of his RockyMountain trips. Some few items he has cut down; and some he hassubstituted; but bulk and weight are the same. For his three months'trip he has four or five chop boxes all told. 

And then suddenly he finds that thus he has made a reduction all alongthe line. Tent load, two men; grub and kitchen, five men; personal, oneman; bed, one man; miscellaneous, one or two. There is now no need forheadmen and askaris to handle this little lot. Twenty more to carry foodfor the men-he is off with a quarter of the number of his first "modestsafari. "

You who are sportsmen and are not going to Africa, as is the case withmost, will perhaps read this, because we are always interested in howthe other fellow does it. To the few who are intending an explorationof the dark continent this concentration of a year's experience may bevaluable. Remember to sleep off the ground, not to starve yourself, to protect yourself from the sun, to let negroes do all hard workbut marching and hunting. Do these things your own way, using yourcommon-sense on how to get at it. You'll be all right. 

That, I conceive, covers the case. The remainder of your equipment hasto do with camp affairs, and merely needs listing. The question here isnot of the sort to get, but of what to take. The tents, cooking affairs, etc. , are well adapted to the country. In selecting your tent, however, you will do very well to pick out one whose veranda fly reaches fairlyto the ground, instead of stopping halfway. 

 1 tent and ground sheet 1 folding cot and cork mattress, 1 pillow, 3 single blankets 1 combined folding bath and ashstand ("X" brand) 1 camp stool 3 folding candle lanterns 1 gallon turpentine 3 lbs. Alum 1 river rope Sail needles and twine 3 pangas (native tools for chopping and digging) Cook outfit (select these yourself, and cut out the extras) 2 axes (small) Plenty laundry soap Evaporation bag 2 pails 10 yards cotton cloth ("Mericani")

These things, your food, your porters' outfits and what trade goods youmay need are quite sufficient. You will have all you want, and not toomuch. If you take care of yourself, you ought to keep in good health. Your small outfit permits greater mobility than does that of the Englishcousin, infinitely less nuisance and expense. Furthermore, you feel thatonce more you are "next to things, " instead of "being led about Africalike a dog on a string. "

APPENDIX V. THE AMERICAN IN AFRICA

WHAT HE SHOULD TAKE

Before going to Africa I read as many books as I could get hold of onthe subject, some of them by Americans. In every case the authors havegiven a chapter detailing the necessary outfit. Invariably they havefollowed the Englishman's ideas almost absolutely. Nobody has venturedto modify those ideas in any essential manner. Some have deprecatinglyventured to remark that it is as well to leave out the tinned carfare-ifyou do not like carfare; but that is as far as they care to go. Thelists are those of the firms who make a business of equipping caravans. The heads of such firms are generally old African travellers. Theyfurnish the equipment their customers demand; and as English sportsmengenerally all demand the same thing, the firms end by issuing a printedlist of essentials for shooting parties in Africa, including carfare. Travellers follow the lists blindly, and later copy them verbatim intotheir books. Not one has thought to empty out the whole bag of tricks, to examine them in the light of reason, and to pick out what a man ofAmerican habits, as contrasted to one of English habits, would like tohave. This cannot be done a priori; it requires the test of experienceto determine how to meet, in our own way, the unusual demands of climateand conditions. 

And please note, when the heads of these equipment firms, these oldAfrican travellers, take the field for themselves, they pay no attentionwhatever to their own printed lists of "essentials. "

Now, premising that the English sportsman has, by many years'experience, worked out just what he likes to take into the field; andassuring you solemnly that his ideas are not in the least the ideas ofAmerican sportsman, let us see if we cannot do something for ourselves. 

At present the American has either to take over in toto the Englishidea, which is not adapted to him, and is-TO HIM-a nuisance, or to go itblind, without experience except that acquired in a temperate climate, which is dangerous. I am not going to copy out the English list again, even for comparison. I have not the space; and if curious enough, youcan find it in any book on modern African travel. Of course I realizewell that few Americans go to Africa; but I also realize well thatthe sportsman is a crank, a wild and eager enthusiast over items ofequipment anywhere. He-and I am thinking emphatically of him-wouldavidly devour the details of the proper outfit for the gentle art ofhunting the totally extinct whiffenpoof. 

Let us begin, first of all, with:

Personal Equipment Clothes. On the top of your head you must have a sunhelmet. Get it of cork, not of pith. The latter has a habit of meltingunobtrusively about your ears when it rains. A helmet in brush is thenext noisiest thing to a circus band, so it is always well to have, also, a double terai. This is not something to eat. It is a widefelt hat, and then another wide felt hat on top of that. Thevertical-rays-of-the-tropical-sun (pronounced as one word to save timeafter you have heard and said it a thousand times) are supposed to gettangled and lost somewhere between the two hats. It is not, however, agood contraption to go in all day when the sun is strong. 

As underwear you want the lightest Jaeger wool. Doesn't sound well fortropics, but it is an essential. You will sweat enough anyway, even ifyou get down to a brass wire costume like the natives. It is when youstop in the shade, or the breeze, or the dusk of evening, that thetrouble comes. A chill means trouble, SURE. Two extra suits are all youwant. There is no earthly sense in bringing more. Your tent boy washesthem out whenever he can lay hands on them-it is one of his harmlessmanias. 

Your shirt should be of the thinnest brown flannel. Leather theshoulders, and part way down the upper arm, with chamois. This is toprotect your precious garment against the thorns when you dive throughthem. On the back you have buttons sewed wherewith to attach a spinepad. Before I went to Africa I searched eagerly for information orillustration of a spine pad. I guessed what it must be for, and to anextent what it must be like, but all writers maintained a conservativereticence as to the thing itself. Here is the first authorizeddescription. A spine pad is a quilted affair in consistency like thethings you are supposed to lift hot flat-irons with. On the outside itis brown flannel, like the shirt; on the inside it is a gaudy orangecolour. The latter is not for aesthetic effect, but to intercept actinicrays. It is eight or ten inches wide, is shaped to button close up underyour collar, and extends halfway down your back. In addition it is wellto wear a silk handkerchief around the neck; as the spine and back ofthe head seem to be the most vulnerable to the sun. 

For breeches, suit yourself as to material. It will have to be verytough, and of fast colour. The best cut is the "semi-riding, " looseat the knees, which should be well faced with soft leather, both forcrawling, and to save the cloth in grass and low brush. One pair oughtto last four months, roughly speaking. You will find a thin pair ofordinary khaki trousers very comfortable as a change for wear aboutcamp. In passing I would call your attention to "shorts. " Shorts areloose, bobbed off khaki breeches, like knee drawers. With them are wornputtees or leather leggings, and low boots. The knees are bare. They aremuch affected by young Englishmen. I observed them carefully at everyopportunity, and my private opinion is that man has rarely managed toinvent as idiotically unfitted a contraption for the purpose in hand. In a country teeming with poisonous insects, ticks, fever-bearingmosquitoes; in a country where vegetation is unusually well armed withthorns, spines and hooks, mostly poisonous; in a country where, oftenerthan in any other a man is called upon to get down on his hands andknees and crawl a few assorted abrading miles, it would seem an obviousnecessity to protect one's bare skin as much as possible. The onlyreason given for these astonishing garments is that they are cooler andfreer to walk in. That I can believe. But they allow ticks and otherinsects to crawl up, mosquitoes to bite, thorns to tear, and assortedtroubles to enter. And I can vouch by experience that ordinary breechesare not uncomfortably hot or tight. Indeed, one does not get especiallyhot in the legs anyway. I noticed that none of the old-time hunters likeCuninghame or Judd wore shorts. The real reason is not that they arecool, but that they are picturesque. Common belief to the contrary, youraverage practical, matter-of-fact Englishman loves to dress up. I knewone engaged in farming-picturesque farming-in our own West, who usedto appear at afternoon tea in a clean suit of blue overalls! It is aharmless amusement. Our own youths do it, also, substituting chaps forshorts, perhaps. I am not criticising the spirit in them; but merelytrying to keep mistaken shorts off you. 

For leg gear I found that nothing could beat our American combination ofhigh-laced boots and heavy knit socks. Leather leggings are noisy, andthe rolled puttees hot and binding. Have your boots ten or twelve incheshigh, with a flap to buckle over the tie of the laces, with soles of themercury-impregnated leather called "elk hide, " and with small Hungarianhobs. Your tent boy will grease these every day with "dubbin, " ofwhich you want a good supply. It is not my intention to offer freeadvertisements generally, but I wore one pair of boots all the time Iwas in Africa, through wet, heat, and long, long walking. They werein good condition when I gave them away finally, and had not started astitch. They were made by that excellent craftsman, A. A. Cutter, ofEau Claire, Wis. , and he deserves and is entirely welcome to this puff. Needless to remark, I have received no especial favours from Mr. Cutter. 

Six pairs of woollen socks, knit by hand, if possible-will be enough. For evening, when you come in, I know nothing better than a pair of veryhigh moosehide moccasins. They should, however, be provided with thinsoles against the stray thorn, and should reach well above the ankle byway of defence against the fever mosquito. That festive insect carrieson a surreptitious guerrilla warfare low down. The English "mosquitoboot" is simply an affair like a riding boot, made of suede leather, with thin soles. It is most comfortable. My objection is that itis unsubstantial and goes to pieces in a very brief time even underordinary evening wear about camp. 

You will also want a coat. In American camping I have always maintainedthe coat is a useless garment. There one does his own work to a largeextent. When at work or travel the coat is in the way. When in campthe sweater or buckskin shirt is handier, and more easily carried. InAfrica, however, where the other fellow does most of the work, a coatis often very handy. Do not make the mistake of getting an unlinedlight-weight garment. When you want it at all, you want it warm andsubstantial. Stick on all the pockets possible, and have them buttonsecurely. 

For wet weather there is nothing to equal a long and voluminous cape. Straps crossing the chest and around the waist permit one to throw itoff the shoulders to shoot. It covers the hands, the rifle-most of thelittle horses or mules one gets out there. One can sleep in or on it, and it is a most effective garment against heavy winds. One suit ofpajamas is enough, considering your tent boy's commendable mania forlaundry work. Add handkerchiefs and you are fixed. 

You will wear most of the above, and put what remains in your "officer'sbox. " This is a thin steel, air-tight affair with a wooden bottom, andis the ticket for African work. 

Sporting. Pick out your guns to suit yourself. You want a light one anda heavy one. 

When I came to send out my ammunition, I was forced again to take theother fellow's experience. I was told by everybody that I should bringplenty, that it was better to have too much than too little, etc. Irather thought so myself, and accordingly shipped a trifle over 1, 500rounds of small bore cartridges. Unfortunately, I never got into thefield with any of my numerous advisers on this point, so cannot statetheir methods from first-hand information. Inductive reasoning leads meto believe that they consider it unsportsmanlike to shoot at a standinganimal at all, or at one running nearer than 250 yards. Furthermore, itis etiquette to continue firing until the last cloud of dust has dieddown on the distant horizon. Only thus can I conceive of getting ridof that amount of ammunition. In eight months of steady shooting, for example-shooting for trophies, as well as to feed a safari offluctuating numbers, counting jackals, marabout and such small trash-Igot away with 395 rounds of small bore ammunition and about 100 oflarge. This accounted for 225 kills. That should give one an idea. Figure out how many animals you are likely to want for ANY purpose, multiply by three, and bring that many cartridges. 

To carry these cartridges I should adopt the English system of a stoutleather belt on which you slip various sized pockets and loops to suitthe occasion. Each unit has loops for ten cartridges. You rarely wantmore than that; and if you do, your gunbearer is supplied. In additionto the loops, you have leather pockets to carry your watch; your money, your matches and tobacco, your compass-anything you please. Theyare handy and safe. The tropical climate is too "sticky" to get muchcomfort, or anything else, out of ordinary pockets. 

In addition, you supply your gunbearer with a cartridge belt, a leatheror canvas carrying bag, water bottle for him and for yourself, a sheathknife and a whetstone. In the bag are your camera, tape line, thewhetstone, field cleaners and lunch. You personally carry your fieldglasses, sun glasses, a knife, compass, matches, police whistle andnotebook. The field glasses should not be more than six power; and ifpossible you should get the sort with detachable prisms. The prismsare apt to cloud in a tropical climate, and the non-detachable sort arealmost impossible for a layman to clean. Hang these glasses around yourneck by a strap only just long enough to permit you to raise them toyour eyes. The best notebook is the "loose-leaf" sort. By means of thisyou can keep always a fresh leaf on top; and at night can transfer yourday's notes to safe keeping in your tin box. The sun glasses should notbe smoked or dark-you can do nothing with them-but of the new amberol, the sort that excludes the ultra-violet rays, but otherwise makes theworld brighter and gayer. Spectacle frames of non-corrosive white metal, not steel, are the proper sort. 

To clean your guns you must supply plenty of oil, and then some more. The East African gunbearer has a quite proper and gratifying, but mostastonishing horror for a suspicion of rust; and to use oil any faster hewould have to drink it. 

Other Equipment. All this has taken much time to tell about, it has notdone much toward filling up that tin box. Dump in your toilet effectsand a bath towel, two or three scalpels for taxidermy, a ball of string, some safety-pins, a small tool kit, sewing materials, a flask of brandy, kodak films packed in tin, a boxed thermometer, an aneroid (if you arecurious as to elevations), journal, tags for labelling trophies, a fewyards of gun cloth, and the medicine kit. 

The latter divides into two classes: for your men and for yourself. The men will suffer from certain well defined troubles: "tumbo, "or overeating; diarrhaea, bronchial colds, fever and various smallinjuries. For "tumbo" you want a liberal supply of Epsom's salts; fordiarrhaea you need chlorodyne; any good expectorant for the colds;quinine for the fever; permanganate and plenty of bandages for theinjuries. With this lot you can do wonders. For yourself you need, or may need, in addition, a more elaborate lot: Laxative, quinine, phenacetin, bismuth and soda, bromide of ammonium, morphia, camphor-ice, and aspirin. A clinical thermometer for whites and one for blacks shouldbe included. A tin of malted milk is not a bad thing to take as anemergency ration after fever. 

By this time your tin box is fairly well provided. You may turn togeneral supplies.