AFRICAN CAMP FIRES

BY

STEWART EDWARD WHITE

 THOMAS NELSON AND SONS LONDON, EDINBURGH, DUBLIN AND NEW YORK

CONTENTS. 

 PART I. --TO THE ISLAND OF WAR. 

 I. THE OPEN DOOR

 II. THE FAREWELL

 III. PORT SAID

 IV. SUEZ

 V. THE RED SEA

 VI. ADEN

 VII. THE INDIAN OCEAN

 VIII. MOMBASA

 PART II. --THE SHIMBA HILLS. 

 IX. A TROPICAL JUNGLE

 X. THE SABLE

 XI. A MARCH ALONG THE COAST

 XII. THE FIRE

 PART III. --NAIROBI. 

 XIII. UP FROM THE COAST

 XIV. A TOWN OF CONTRASTS

 XV. PEOPLE

 XVI. RECRUITING

 PART IV. --A LION HUNT ON KAPITI. 

 XVII. AN OSTRICH FARM AT MACHAKOS

 XVIII. THE FIRST LIONESS

 XIX. THE DOGS

 XX. BONDONI

 XXI. RIDING THE PLAINS

 XXII. THE SECOND LIONESS

 XXIII. THE BIG LION

 XXIV. THE FIFTEEN LIONS

 PART V. --THE TSAVO RIVER. 

 XXV. VOI

 XXVI. THE FRINGE-EARED ORYX

 XXVII. ACROSS THE SERENGETTI

 XXVIII. DOWN THE RIVER

 XXIX. THE LESSER KUDU

 XXX. ADVENTURES BY THE WAY

 XXXI. THE LOST SAFARI

 XXXII. THE BABU

 PART VI. --IN MASAILAND. 

 XXXIII. OVER THE LIKIPIA ESCARPMENT

 XXXIV. TO THE KEDONG

 XXXV. THE TEANSPORT RIDER

 XXXVI. ACROSS THE THIRST

 XXXVII. THE SOUTHERN GUASO NYERO

 XXXVIII. THE LOWER BENCHES

 XXXIX. NOTES ON THE MASAI

 XL. THROUGH THE ENCHANTED FOREST

 XLI. NAIOKOTUKU

 XLII. SCOUTING IN THE ELEPHANT FOREST

 XLIII. THE TOPI CAMP

 XLIV. THE UNKNOWN LAND

 XLV. THE ROAN

 XLVI. THE GREATER KUDU

 XLVII. THE MAGIC PORTALS CLOSE

 XLVIII. THE LAST TREK

PART I. 

TO THE ISLAND OF WAR. 

I. 

THE OPEN DOOR. 

There are many interesting hotels scattered about the world, with a fewof which I am acquainted and with a great many of which I am not. Ofcourse all hotels are interesting, from one point of view or another. Infact, the surest way to fix an audience's attention is to introduce yourhero, or to display your opening chorus in the lobby or along the façadeof a hotel. The life, the movement and colour, the driftingindividualities, the pretence, the bluff, the self-consciousness, theindependence, the _ennui_, the darting or lounging servants, the veryfact that of those before your eyes seven out of ten are drawn fromdistant and scattered places, are sufficient in themselves to invest thesmallest hostelry with glamour. It is not of this general interest thatI would now speak. Nor is it my intention at present to glance at thehotels wherein "quaintness" is specialized, whether intentionally or no. There are thousands of them; and all of them well worth thediscriminating traveller's attention. Concerning some of them--as theold inns at Dives-sur-Mer and at Mont St. Michel--whole books have beenwritten. These depend for their charm on a mingled gift of the unusualand the picturesque. There are, as I have said, thousands of them; andof their cataloguing, should one embark on so wide a sea, there could beno end. And, again, I must for convenience exclude the altogethercharming places, like the Tour d'Argent of Paris, Simpson's of theStrand, [1] and a dozen others that will spring to every traveller'smemory, where the personality of the host, or of a chef, or even awaiter, is at once a magnet for the attraction of visitors and a rewardfor their coming. These, too, are many. In the interest to which I woulddraw attention, the hotel as a building or as an institution has littlepart. It is indeed a façade, a _mise en scène_before which play theactors that attract our attention and applause. The set may be asmodernly elaborate as Peacock Alley of the Waldorf or the templed lobbyof the St. Francis; or it may present the severe and Elizabethansimplicity of the stone-paved veranda of the Norfolk at Nairobi--thematter is quite inessential to the spectator. His appreciation is onlyslightly and indirectly influenced by these things. Sunk in hisarm-chair--of velvet or of canvas--he puffs hard and silently at hiscigar, watching and listening as the pageant and the conversation eddyby. 

Of such hotels I number that gaudy and polysyllabic hostelry the GrandHôtel du Louvre et de la Paix at Marseilles. I am indifferent to thefacts that it is situated on that fine thoroughfare, the Rue deCannebière, which the proud and untravelled native devoutly believes tobe the finest street in the world; that it possesses a dining-room ofgilded and painted _repoussé_ work so elaborate and wonderful that itsurely must be intended to represent a tinsmith's dream of heaven; thatits concierge is the most impressive human being on earth except Ludwigvon Kampf (whom I have never seen); that its head waiter is sadder andmore elderly and forgiving than any other head waiter; and that itshushed and cathedral atmosphere has been undisturbed through immemorialyears. That is to be expected; and elsewhere to be duplicated ingreater or lesser degree. Nor in the lofty courtyard, or the equallylofty halls and reading-rooms, is there ever much bustle and movement. People sit quietly, or move with circumspection. Servants glide. Thefall of a book or teaspoon, the sudden closing of a door, are events tobe remarked. Once a day, however, a huge gong sounds, the glass doors ofthe inner courtyard are thrown open with a flourish, and enters the hugebus fairly among those peacefully sitting at the tables, horses' hoofsstriking fire, long lash-cracking volleys, wheels roaring amid hollowreverberations. From the interior of this bus emerge people; and fromthe top, by means of a strangely-constructed hooked ladder, are decantedboxes, trunks, and appurtenances of various sorts. In these people, andin these boxes, trunks, and appurtenances, are the real interest of theGrand Hôtel du Louvre et de la Paix of the marvellous Rue Cannebière ofMarseilles. 

For at Marseilles land ships, many ships, from all the scattered ends ofthe earth; and from Marseilles depart trains for the North, where ishome, or the way home for many peoples. And since the arrival of shipsis uncertain, and the departure of trains fixed, it follows thateverybody descends for a little or greater period at the Grand Hôtel duLouvre et de la Paix. 

They come lean and quiet and a little yellow from hard climates, withthe names of strange places on their lips, and they speak familiarly offar-off things. Their clothes are generally of ancient cut, and thewrinkles and camphor aroma of a long packing away are yet discernible. Often they are still wearing sun helmets or double terai hats, pending adescent on a Piccadilly hatter two days hence. They move slowly andlanguidly; the ordinary piercing and dominant English enunciation hasfallen to modulation; their eyes, while observant and alert, look tired. It is as though the far countries have sucked something from the pith ofthem in exchange for great experiences that nevertheless seem of littlevalue; as though these men, having met at last face to face the ultimateof what the earth has to offer in the way of danger, hardship, difficulty, and the things that try men's souls, having unexpectedlyfound them all to fall short of both the importance and the finalsignificance with which human-kind has always invested them, were nowjust a little at a loss. Therefore they stretch their long, lean framesin the wicker chairs, they sip the long drinks at their elbows, puffslowly at their long, lean cheroots, and talk spasmodically in shortsentences. 

Of quite a different type are those going out--young fellows full ofnorthern health and energy, full of the eagerness of anticipation, fullof romance skilfully concealed, self-certain, authoritative, clearvoiced. Their exit from the bus is followed by a rain of hold-alls, bags, new tin boxes, new gun cases, all lettered freshly--an enormouskit doomed to diminution. They overflow the place, ebb towards theirrespective rooms; return scrubbed and ruddy, correctly clad, correctlyunconscious of everybody else; sink into more wicker chairs. The quietbrown and yellow men continue to puff at their cheroots, quite eclipsed. After a time one of them picks up his battered old sun helmet and goesout into the street. The eyes of the newcomers follow him. They fallsilent; and their eyes, under cover of pulled moustache, furtivelyglance towards the lean man's companions. Then on that office falls agreat silence, broken only by the occasional rare remarks of the quietmen with the cheroots. The youngsters are listening with all their ears, though from their appearance no one would suspect that fact. Not asyllable escapes them. These quiet men have been there; they have seenwith their own eyes; their lightest word is saturated with the mysteryand romance of the unknown. Their easy, matter-of-fact, everydayknowledge is richly wonderful. It would seem natural for theseyoung-young men to question these old-young men of that which theydesire so ardently to know; but that isn't done, you know. So they sittight, and pretend they are not listening, and feast their ears on thewonderful syllables--Ankobar, Kabul, Peshawur, Annam, Nyassaland, Kerman, Serengetti, Tanganika, and many others. On these beautifulsyllables must their imaginations feed, for that which is told is asnothing at all. Adventure there is none, romance there is none, mentionof high emprise there is none. Adventure, romance, high emprise have tothese men somehow lost their importance. Perhaps such things have beento them too common--as well mention the morning egg. Perhaps they havefound that there is no genuine adventure, no real romance except overthe edge of the world where the rainbow stoops. 

The bus rattles in and rattles out again. It takes the fresh-faced youngmen down past the inner harbour to where lie the tall ships waiting. They and their cargo of exuberance, of hope, of energy, of thirst forthe bubble adventure, the rainbow romance, sail away to where thesewares have a market. And the quiet men glide away to the North. Theirwares have been marketed. The sleepy, fierce, passionate, sunny landshave taken all they had to bring. And have given in exchange?Indifference, ill-health, a profound realization that the length of daysare as nothing at all; a supreme agnosticism as to the ultimate value ofanything that a single man can do, a sublime faith that it must be done, the power to concentrate, patience illimitable; contempt for danger, disregard of death, the intention to live; a final, weary estimate ofthe fact that mere things are as unimportant here as there, no matterhow quaintly or fantastically they are dressed or named, and acorresponding emptiness of anticipation for the future--these items areonly a random few of the price given by the ancient lands for that whichthe northern races bring to them. What other alchemical changes havebeen wrought only these lean and weary men could know--if they daredlook so far within themselves. And even if they dared, they would nottell. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] In old days before the "improvements. "

II. 

THE FAREWELL. 

We boarded ship, filled with a great, and what seemed to us, anunappeasable curiosity as to what we were going to see. It was not avery big ship, in spite of the grandiloquent descriptions in theadvertisements, or the lithograph wherein she cut grandly and evenlythrough huge waves to the manifest discomfiture of infinitesimal sailingcraft bobbing alongside. She was manned entirely by Germans. The roomstewards waited at table, cleaned the public saloons, kept the library, rustled the baggage, and played in the band. That is why we took ourmusic between meals. Our staterooms were very tiny indeed. Each wasprovided with an electric fan; a totally inadequate and ratheraggravating electric fan once we had entered the Red Sea. Just at thismoment we paid it little attention, for we were still in full enjoymentof sunny France, where, in our own experience, it had rained two monthssteadily. Indeed, at this moment it was raining, raining a steady, cold, sodden drizzle that had not even the grace to pick out the surface ofthe harbour in the jolly dancing staccato that goes far to lendattraction to a genuinely earnest rainstorm. 

Down the long quay splashed cabs and omnibuses, their drivers glisteningin wet capes, to discharge under the open shed at the end various hastyindividuals who marshalled long lines of porters with astonishingimpedimenta and drove them up the gang-plank. A half-dozen roughslounged aimlessly. A little bent old woman with a shawl over her headsearched here and there. Occasionally she would find a twisted splinterof wood torn from the piles by a hawser or gouged from the planking byheavy freight, or kicked from the floor by the hoofs of horses. This shedeposited carefully in a small covered market basket. She was entirelyintent on this minute and rather pathetic task, quite unattending thegreatness of the ship, or the many people the great hulk swallowed orspat forth. 

Near us against the rail leaned a dark-haired young Englishman whomlater every man on that many-nationed ship came to recognize and toavoid as an insufferable bore. Now, however, the angel of goodinspiration stooped to him. He tossed a copper two-sou piece down to thebent old woman. She heard the clink of the fall, and looked upbewildered. One of the waterside roughs slouched forward. The Englishmanshouted a warning and a threat, indicating in pantomime for whom thecoin was intended. To our surprise that evil-looking wharf rat smiledand waved his hand reassuringly, then took the old woman by the arm toshow her where the coin had fallen. She hobbled to it with a hasteeloquent of the horrible Marseillaise poverty-stricken alleys, picked itup joyously, turned--and with a delightful grace kissed her finger-tipstowards the ship. 

Apparently we all of us had a few remaining French coins; and certainlywe were all grateful to the young Englishman for his happy thought. Thesous descended as fast as the woman could get to where they fell. Sonumerous were they that she had no time to express her gratitude exceptin broken snatches or gesture, in interrupted attitudes of the mostcomplete thanksgiving. The day of miracles for her had come; and fromthe humble poverty that valued tiny and infrequent splinters of wood shehad suddenly come into great wealth. Everybody was laughing, but in avery kindly sort of way it seemed to me; and the very wharf rats andgamins, wolfish and fierce in their everyday life of the water-front, seemed to take a genuine pleasure in pointing out to her theresting-place of those her dim old eyes had not seen. Silver piecesfollowed. These were too wonderful. She grew more and more excited, until several of the passengers leaning over the rail began to murmurwarningly, fearing harm. After picking up each of these silver pieces, she bowed and gestured very gracefully, waving both hands outward, lifting eyes and hands to heaven, kissing her fingers, trying by everymeans in her power to express the dazzling wonder and joy that thisunexpected marvel was bringing her. When she had done all these thingsmany times, she hugged herself ecstatically. A very well-dressed andprosperous-looking Frenchman standing near seemed to be a little afraidshe might hug him. His fear had, perhaps, some grounds, for she shookhands with everybody all around, and showed them her wealth in herkerchief, explaining eagerly, the tears running down her face. 

Now the gang-plank was drawn aboard, and the band struck up the usuallively air. At the first notes the old woman executed a few feeblelittle jig steps in sheer exuberance. Then the solemnity of thesituation sobered her. Her great, wealthy, powerful, kind friends weredeparting on their long voyage over mysterious seas. Again and again, very earnestly, she repeated the graceful, slow pantomime--the wave ofthe arms outward, the eyes raised to heaven, the hands clasped finallyover her head. As the brown strip of water silently widened between usit was strangely like a stage scene--the roofed sheds of the quay, themotionless groups, the central figure of the old woman depictingemotion. 

Suddenly she dropped her hands and hobbled away at a great rate, disappearing finally into the maze of the street beyond. Concluding thatshe had decided to get quickly home with her great treasure, wecommended her discretion and gave our attention to other things. 

The drizzle fell uninterruptedly. We had edged sidewise the requisitedistance, and were now gathering headway in our long voyage. The quailwas beginning to recede and to diminish. Back from the street hastenedthe figure of the little old woman. She carried a large white cloth, ofwhich she had evidently been in quest. This she unfolded and wavedvigorously with both hands. Until we had passed quite from sight shestood there signalling her farewell. Long after we were beyonddistinguishing her figure we could catch the flutter of white. Thus thatship's company, embarking each on his Great Adventure, far from home andfriends, received their farewell, a very genuine farewell, from one poorold woman. B. Ventured the opinion that it was the best thing we hadbought with our French money. 

III. 

PORT SAID. 

The time of times to approach Port Said is just at the fall of dusk. Then the sea lies in opalescent patches, and the low shores fade awayinto the gathering night. The slanting masts and yards of the dhowssilhouette against a sky of the deepest translucent green; and theheroic statue of De Lesseps, standing for ever at the Gateway he opened, points always to the mysterious East. 

The rhythmical, accustomed chug of the engines had fallen to quarterspeed, leaving an uncanny stillness throughout the ship. Silently weslipped between the long piers, drew up on the waterside town, seizedthe buoy, and came to rest. All around us lay other ships of all sizes, motionless on the inky water. The reflections from their lights seemedto be thrust into the depths, like stilts; and the few lights from thetown reflected shiveringly across. Along the water-front all was darkand silent. We caught the loom of buildings; and behind them a dull glowas from a fire, and guessed tall minarets, and heard the rising andfalling of chanting. Numerous small boats hovered near, floating in andout of the patches of light we ourselves cast, waiting for permission toswarm at the gang-plank for our patronage. 

We went ashore, passed through a wicket gate, and across the darkbuildings to the heart of the town, whence came the dull glow and thesounds of people. 

Here were two streets running across one another, both brilliantlylighted, both thronged, both lined with little shops. In the latter onecould buy anything, in any language, with any money. In them we sawcheap straw hats made in Germany hung side by side with gorgeous andbeautiful stuffs from the Orient; shoddy European garments and Easternjewels; cheap celluloid combs and curious embroideries. The crowd ofpassers-by in the streets were compounded in the same curiously mixedfashion; a few Europeans, generally in white, and then a variety ofArabs, Egyptians, Somalis, Berbers, East Indians and the like, each inhis own gaudy or graceful costume. It speaks well for the accuracy offeeling, anyway, of our various "Midways, " "Pikes, " and the like of ourworld's expositions that the streets of Port Said looked like Midwaysraised to the nth power. Along them we sauntered with a pleasing feelingof self-importance. On all sides we were gently and humbly besought--bythe shopkeepers, by the sidewalk vendors, by would-be guides, byfortune-tellers, by jugglers, by magicians; all soft-voiced andrespectful; all yielding as water to rebuff, but as quick as water toglide back again. The vendors were of the colours of the rainbow, andwere heavily hung with long necklaces of coral or amber, with scarves, with strings of silver coins, with sequinned veils and silks, girt withmany dirks and knives, furnished out in concealed pockets with scarabs, bracelets, sandalwood boxes or anything else under the broad canopy ofheaven one might or might not desire. Their voices were soft andpleasing, their eyes had the beseeching quality of a good dog's, theiranxious and deprecating faces were ready at the slightest encouragementto break out into the friendliest and most intimate of smiles. Whereverwe went we were accompanied by a retinue straight out of the ArabianNights, patiently awaiting the moment when we should tire; should seekout the table of a sidewalk café; and should, in our relaxed mood, beready to unbend to our royal purchases. 

At that moment we were too much interested in the town itself. The tinyshops, with their smiling and insinuating Oriental keepers, werefascinating in their displays of carved woods, jewellery, perfumes, silks, tapestries, silversmiths' work, ostrich feathers, and the like. To either side the main street lay long narrow dark alleys, in whichflared single lights, across which flitted mysterious long-robedfigures, from which floated stray snatches of music either palpitatinglybarbaric or ridiculously modern. There the authority of the straight, soldierly-looking Soudanese policemen ceased, and it was not safe towander unarmed or alone. 

Besides these motley variegations of the East and West, the main featureof the town was the street car. It was an open-air structure of spaciousdimensions, as though benches and a canopy had been erected ratherhaphazard on a small dancing platform. The track is absurdly narrow ingauge; and as a consequence the edifice swayed and swung from side toside. A single mule was attached to it loosely by about ten feet ofrope. It was driven by a gaudy ragamuffin in a turban. Various othergaudy ragamuffins lounged largely and picturesquely on the widely spacedbenches. Whence it came or whither it went I do not know. Its orbitswung into the main street, turned a corner, and disappeared. ApparentlyEuropeans did not patronize this picturesque wreck, but drove elegantlybut mysteriously in small open cabs conducted by totally incongruousturbaned drivers. 

We ended finally at an imposing corner hotel, where we dined by an openwindow just above the level of the street. A dozen upturned facesbesought us silently during the meal. At a glance of even the mildestinterest a dozen long brown arms thrust the spoils of the East upon ourconsideration. With us sat a large benign Swedish professor whoseerudition was encyclopaedic, but whose kindly humanity was greater. Uttering deep, cavernous chuckles, the professor bargained. A red coralnecklace for the moment was the matter of interest. The professorinspected it carefully, and handed it back. 

"I doubt if id iss coral, " said he simply. 

The present owner of the beads went frantic with rapid-fire proof andvociferation. With the swiftness and precision of much repetition hefished out a match, struck it, applied the flame to the alleged coral, and blew out the match; cast the necklace on the pavement, producedmysteriously a small hammer, and with it proceeded frantically to poundthe beads. Evidently he was accustomed to being doubted, and carried hismaterials for proof around with him. Then, in one motion, the hammerdisappeared, the beads were snatched up, and again offered, unharmed, for inspection. 

"Are those good tests for genuineness?" we asked the professor, aside. 

"As to that, " he replied regretfully, "I do not know. I know of coralonly that is the hard calcareous skeleton of the marine coelenteratepolyps; and that this red coral iss called of a sclerobasic group; andother facts of the kind; but I do not know if it iss supposed to resistimpact and heat. Possibly, " he ended shrewdly, "it is the commonimitation which does _not_ resist impact and heat. At any rate they arepretty. How much?" he demanded of the vendor, a bright-eyed Egyptianwaiting patiently until our conference should cease. 

"Twenty shillings, " he replied promptly. 

The professor shook with one of his cavernous chuckles. 

"Too much, " he observed, and handed the necklace back through thewindow. 

The Egyptian would by no means receive it. 

"Keep! keep!" he implored, thrusting the mass of red upon the professorwith both hands. "How much you give?"

"One shilling, " announced the professor firmly. 

The coral necklace lay on the edge of the table throughout most of ourleisurely meal. The vendor argued, pleaded, gave it up, disappeared inthe crowd, returned dramatically after an interval. The professor atecalmly, chuckled much, and from time to time repeated firmly the words, "One shilling. " Finally, at the cheese, he reached out, swept the coralinto his pocket, and laid down two shillings. The Egyptian deftlygathered the coin, smiled cheerfully, and produced a glittering veil, inwhich he tried in vain to enlist Billy's interest. 

For coffee and cigars we moved to the terrace outside. Here an orchestraplayed, the peoples of many nations sat at little tables, the peddlers, fakirs, jugglers, and fortune-tellers swarmed. A half-dozen postal cardsseemed sufficient to set a small boy up in trade, and to imbue him withall the importance and insistence of a merchant with jewels. Otherten-year-old ragamuffins tried to call our attention to some sort ofsleight-of-hand with poor downy little chickens. Grave, turbaned, andpolite Indians squatted cross-legged at our feet, begging to give us alook into the future by means of the only genuine hall-marked Yogi-ism;a troupe of acrobats went energetically and hopefully through quite ameritorious performance a few feet away; a deftly triumphant juggler didvery easily, and directly beneath our watchful eyes, some reallywonderful tricks. A butterfly-gorgeous swarm of insinuating smilingpeddlers of small things dangled and spread their wares where theythought themselves most sure of attention. Beyond our own little groupwe saw slowly passing in the lighted street outside the portico thevariegated and picturesque loungers. Across the way a phonograph bawled;our stringed orchestra played "The Dollar Princess;" from somewhere overin the dark and mysterious alleyways came the regular beating of atom-tom. The magnificent and picturesque town car with its gaudyragamuffins swayed by in train of its diminutive mule. 

Suddenly our persistent and amusing _entourage_ vanished in alldirections. Standing idly at the portico was a very straight, blackSoudanese. On his head was the usual red fez; his clothing was of trimkhaki; his knees and feet were bare, with blue puttees between; andaround his middle was drawn close and smooth a blood-red sash at least afoot and a half in breadth. He made a fine upstanding Egyptian figure, and was armed with pride, a short sheathed club, and a great scorn. Noword spoke he, nor command; but merely jerked a thumb towards thedarkness, and into the darkness our many-hued horde melted away. We wereleft feeling rather lonesome!

Near midnight we sauntered down the street to the quay, whence we wererowed to the ship by another turbaned, long-robed figure, who sweetlybegged just a copper or so "for poor boatman. "

We found the ship in the process of coaling, every porthole and doorwayclosed, and heavy canvas hung to protect as far as possible the cleandecks. Two barges were moored alongside. Two blazing braziers lightedthem with weird red and flickering flames. In their depths, cast inblack and red shadows, toiled half-guessed figures; from their depths, mounting a single steep plank, came an unbroken procession of natives, naked save for a wisp of cloth around the loins. They trod closely oneach other's heels, carrying each his basket atop his head or on oneshoulder, mounted a gang-plank, discharged their loads into the side ofthe ship, and descended again to the depths by way of another plank. Thelights flickered across their dark faces, their gleaming teeth and eyes. Somehow the work demanded a heap of screeching, shouting, andgesticulation; but somehow also it went forward rapidly. Dozens ofunattached natives lounged about the gunwales with apparently nothing todo but to look picturesque. Shore boats moved into the narrow circle oflight, drifted to our gangway, and discharged huge crates of vegetables, sacks of unknown stuffs, and returning passengers. A vigilant policeboat hovered near to settle disputes, generally with the blade of anoar. For a long time we leaned over the rail watching them, and thevarious reflected lights in the water, and the very clear, unwaveringstars. Then, the coaling finished, and the portholes once more opened, we turned in. 

IV. 

SUEZ. 

Some time during the night we must have started, but so gently had weslid along it fractional speed that until I raised my head and lookedout I had not realized the fact. I saw a high sandbank. This glidedmonotonously by until I grew tired of looking at it and got up. 

After breakfast, however, I found that the sandbank had variousattractions all of its own. Three camels laden with stone and in convoyof white-clad figures shuffled down the slope at a picturesque angle. Two cowled women in black, veiled to the eyes in gauze heavily sewn withsequins, barefooted, with massive silver anklets, watched us pass. Hinduworkmen in turban and loin-cloth furnished a picturesque note, but didnot seem to be injuring themselves by over-exertion. Naked small boysraced us for a short distance. The banks glided by very slowly and veryevenly, the wash sucked after us like water in a slough after a duckboat, and the sky above the yellow sand looked extremely blue. 

At short and regular intervals, half-way up the miniature sandhills, heavy piles or snubbing-posts had been planted. For these we at firstcould guess no reason. Soon, however, we had to pass another ship; andthen we saw that one of us must tie up to avoid being drawn irresistiblyby suction into collision with the other. The craft sidled by, separatedby only a few feet, so that we could look across to each other's decksand exchange greetings. As the day grew this interest grew likewise. Dredgers in the canal; rusty tramps flying unfamiliar flags of strangetiny countries; big freighters, often with Greek or Turkish characterson their sterns; small dirty steamers of suspicious business; passengerships like our own, returning from the tropics, with white-clad, languidfigures reclining in canvas chairs; gunboats of this or that nationbound on mysterious affairs; once a P. & O. Converted into a troopship, from whose every available porthole, hatch, deck, and shroud laughing, brown, English faces shouted chaff at our German decks--all theseeither tied up for us, or were tied up for by us. The only craft thatreceived no consideration on our part were the various picturesque Arabdhows, with their single masts and the long yards slanting across them. Since these were very small, our suction dragged at them cruelly. As ausual thing four vociferous figures clung desperately to a rope passedaround one of the snubbing-posts ashore, while an old man shriekedsyllables at them from the dhow itself. As they never by any chancethought of mooring her both stem and stern, the dhow generally changedends rapidly, shipping considerable water in the process. It must bevery trying to get so excited in a hot climate. 

The high sandbanks of the early part of the day soon dropped lower toafford us a wider view. In its broad, general features the country was, quite simply, the desert of Arizona over again. There were the samehigh, distant, and brittle-looking mountains, fragile and pearly; thesame low, broken half-distances; the same wide sweeps; the samewonderful changing effects of light, colour, shadow, and mirage; thesame occasional strips of green marking the watercourses and oases. Asto smaller detail, we saw many interesting divergences. In theforeground constantly recurred the Bedouin brush shelters, each with itspicturesque figure or so in flowing robes, and its grumpy camels. Twicewe saw travelling caravans, exactly like the Bible pictures. At oneplace a single burnoused Arab, leaning on his elbows, reclined fulllength on the sky-line of a clean-cut sandhill. Glittering in themirage, half-guessed, half-seen, we made out distant little white townswith slender palm trees. At places the water from the canal hadoverflowed wide tracts of country. Here, along the shore, we sawthousands of the water-fowl already familiar to us, as well as suchstrangers as gaudy kingfishers, ibises, and rosy flamingoes. 

The canal itself seemed to be in a continual state of repair. Dredgerswere everywhere; some of the ordinary shovel type, others working bysuction, and discharging far inland by means of weird huge pipes thatapparently meandered at will over the face of nature. The controlstations were beautifully French and neat, painted yellow, each with itsgorgeous bougainvilleas in flower, its square-rigged signal masts, itsbrightly painted extra buoys standing in a row, its wharf--and itsimpassive Arab fishermen thereon. We reclined in our canvas chairs, hadlemon squashes brought to us, and watched the entertainment steadily andslowly unrolled before us. 

We reached the end of the canal about three o'clock of the afternoon, and dropped anchor off the low-lying shores. Our binoculars showed uswhite houses in apparently single rank along a far-reaching narrow sandspit, with sparse trees and a railroad line. That was the town of Suez, and seemed so little interesting that we were not particularly sorrythat we could not go ashore. Far in the distance were mountains; and thewater all about us was the light, clear green of the sky at sunset. 

Innumerable dhows and row-boats swarmed down, filled with eager salesmenof curios and ostrich plumes. They had not much time in which tobargain, so they made it up in rapid-fire vociferation. One very talland dignified Arab had as sailor of his craft the most extraordinarycreature, just above the lower limit of the human race. He was of a dullcoal black, without a single high light on him anywhere, as though hehad been sand-papered, had prominent teeth, like those of a baboon, in awrinkled, wizened monkey face, across which were three tattooed bands, and possessed a little, long-armed, spare figure, bent and wiry. Heclambered up and down his mast, fetching things at his master's behest;leapt nonchalantly for our rail or his own spar, as the case might be, across the staggering abyss; clung so well with his toes that he mightalmost have been classified with the quadrumana; and between timessquatted humped over on the rail, watching us with bright, elfish, alieneyes. 

At last the big German sailors bundled the whole variegated hordeoverside. It was time to go, and our anchor chain was already rumblingin the hawse pipes. They tumbled hastily into their boats; and at onceswarmed up their masts, whence they feverishly continued theirinterrupted bargaining. In fact, so fully embarked on the tides ofcommerce were they, that they failed to notice the tides of naturewidening between us. One old man, in especial, at the very top of hismast, jerked hither and thither by the sea, continued imploringly tooffer an utterly ridiculous carved wooden camel long after it wasimpossible to have completed the transaction should anybody have beenmoonstruck enough to have desired it. Our ship's prow swung; and just atsunset, as the lights of Suez were twinkling out one by one, we headeddown the Red Sea. 

V. 

THE RED SEA. 

Suez is indeed the gateway to the East. In the Mediterranean often thesea is rough, the winds cold, passengers are not yet acquainted, and hugthe saloons or the leeward side of the deck. Once through the canal andall is changed by magic. The air is hot and languid; the ship's companydown to the very scullions appear in immaculate white; the saloon chairsand transoms even are put in white coverings; electric fans humeverywhere; the run on lemon squashes begins; and many quaint andcurious customs of the tropics obtain. 

For example: it is etiquette that before eight o'clock one may wanderthe decks at will in one's pyjamas, converse affably with fair ladies inpigtail and kimono, and be not abashed. But on the stroke of eight bellsit is also etiquette to disappear very promptly and to array one's selffor the day; and it is very improper indeed to see or be seen after thathour in the rather extreme _negligée_ of the early morning. Also itbecomes the universal custom, or perhaps I should say the necessity, toslumber for an hour after the noon meal. Certainly sleep descending onthe tropical traveller is armed with a bludgeon. Passengers, crew, steerage, "deck, " animal, and bird fall down then in an enchantment. Ihave often wondered who navigates the ship during that sacred hour, or, indeed, if anybody navigates it at all. Perhaps that time is sacred tothe genii of the old East, who close all prying mortal eyes, but inreturn lend a guiding hand to the most pressing of mortal affairs. Thedeck of the ship is a curious sight between the hours of half-past oneand three. The tropical siesta requires no couching of the form. You sitdown in your chair, with a book--you fade slowly into a deep, restfulslumber. And yet it is a slumber wherein certain small pleasant thingspersist from the world outside. You remain dimly conscious of therhythmic throbbing of the engines, of the beat of soft, warm air on yourcheek. 

At three o'clock or thereabout you rise as gently back to life, and siterect in your chair without a stretch or a yawn in your whole anatomy. Then is the one time of day for a display of energy--if you have any todisplay. Ship games, walks--fairly brisk--explorations to theforecastle, a watch for flying fish or Arab dhows, anything untiltea-time. Then the glowing sunset; the opalescent sea, and the softafterglow of the sky--and the bugle summoning you to dress. That is amean job. Nothing could possibly swelter worse than the tiny cabin. Theelectric fan is an aggravation. You reappear in your fresh "whites"somewhat warm and flustered in both mind and body. A turn around thedeck cools you off; and dinner restores your equanimity--dinner with thesoft, warm tropic air breathing through all the wide-open ports; theelectric fans drumming busily; the men all in clean white; the ladies, the very few precious ladies, in soft, low gowns. After dinner the deck, as near cool as it will be, and heads bare to the breeze of ourprogress, and glowing cigars. At ten or eleven o'clock the groups beginto break up, the canvas chairs to empty. Soon reappears a pyjamaedfigure followed by a steward carrying a mattress. This is spread, underits owner's direction, in a dark corner forward. With a sigh you in yourturn plunge down into the sweltering inferno of your cabin, only toreappear likewise with a steward and a mattress. The latter, if you arewise, you spread where the wind of the ship's going will be full uponyou. It is a strong wind and blows upon you heavily, so that the sleevesand legs of your pyjamas flop, but it is a soft, warm wind, and beatsyou as with muffled fingers. In no temperate clime can you ever enjoythis peculiar effect of a strong breeze on your naked skin without eventhe faintest surface chilly sensation. So habituated has one become tofeeling cooler in a draught that the absence of chill lends the night anunaccustomedness, the more weird in that it is unanalyzed, so that onefeels definitely that one is in a strange, far country. This isintensified by the fact that in these latitudes the moon, the great, glorious, calm tropical moon, is directly overhead--follows the centreline of the zenith--instead of being, as with us in our temperate zone, always more or less declined to the horizon. This, too, lends the nightan exotic quality, the more effective in that at first the reason for itis not apprehended. 

A night in the tropics is always more or less broken. One awakens, andsleeps again. Motionless white-clad figures, cigarettes glowing, arelounging against the rail looking out over a molten sea. The moonlightlies in patterns across the deck, shivering slightly under the throb ofthe engines, or occasionally swaying slowly forward or slowly back asthe ship's course changes, but otherwise motionless, for here the sea isalways calm. You raise your head, look about, sprawl in a new positionon your mattress, fall asleep. On one of these occasions you findunexpectedly that the velvet-gray night has become steel-gray dawn, andthat the kindly old quartermaster is bending over you. Sleepily, verysleepily, you stagger to your feet and collapse into the nearest chair. Then to the swish of water, as the sailors sluice the decks all aroundand under you, you fall into a really deep sleep. 

At six o'clock this is broken by chota-hazri, another tropicalinstitution, consisting merely of clear tea and biscuits. I never couldget to care for it, but nowhere in the tropics could I head it off. Nomatter how tired I was or how dead sleepy, I had to receive thatconfounded chota-hazri. Throwing things at the native who brought it didno good at all. He merely dodged. Admonition did no good, norprohibition in strong terms. I was but one white man of the whole whiterace; and I had no right to possess idiosyncrasies running counter todastur, the custom. However, as the early hours are profitable hours inthe tropics, it did not drive me to homicide. 

The ship's company now developed. Our two prize members, fortunately forus, sat at our table. The first was the Swedish professoraforementioned. He was large, benign, paternal, broad in mind, thoroughly human and beloved, and yet profoundly erudite. He was ouriconoclast in the way of food; for he performed small but illuminatingdissections on his plate, and announced triumphantly results that werenot a bit in accordance with the menu. A single bone was sufficient totake the pretension out of any fish. Our other particular friend was C. , with whom later we travelled in the interior of Africa. C. Is a verycelebrated hunter and explorer, an old Africander, his face seamed andtanned by many years in a hard climate. For several days we did notrecognize him, although he sat fairly alongside, but put him down as ashy man, and let it go at that. He never stayed for the long _tabled'hôte_ dinners, but fell upon the first solid course and made acomplete meal from that. When he had quite finished eating all hecould, he drank all he could; then he departed from the table, and tookup a remote and inaccessible position in the corner of the smoking-room. He was engaged in growing the beard he customarily wore in the jungle--amost fierce outstanding Mohammedan-looking beard that terrified theintrusive into submission. And yet Bwana C. Possesses the kindest blueeyes in the world, full of quiet patience, great understanding, andinfinite gentleness. His manner was abrupt and uncompromising, but hewould do anything in the world for one who stood in need of him. Fromwomen he fled; yet Billy won him with infinite patience, and in theevent they became the closest of friends. Withal he possessed a pair ofthe most powerful shoulders I have ever seen on a man of his frame; andin the depths of his mild blue eyes flickered a flame of resolution thatI could well imagine flaring up to something formidable. Slow to makefriends, but staunch and loyal; gentle and forbearing, but fierce andimplacable in action; at once loved and most terribly feared; shy as awild animal, but straightforward and undeviating in his human relations;most remarkably quiet and unassuming, but with tremendous vital force inhis deep eyes and forward-thrust jaw; informed with the widest and mostunderstanding humanity, but unforgiving of evildoers; and with the mostdirect and absolute courage, Bwana C. Was to me the most interesting manI met in Africa, and became the best of my friends. 

The only other man at our table happened to be, for our sins, the youngEnglishman mentioned as throwing the first coin to the old woman on thepier at Marseilles. We will call him Brown, and, because he represents atype, he is worth looking upon for a moment. 

He was of the super-enthusiastic sort; bubbling over with vitality, inand out of everything; bounding up at odd and languid moments. To anextraordinary extent he was afflicted with the spiritual blindness ofhis class. Quite genuinely, quite seriously, he was unconscious of thehuman significance of beings and institutions belonging to a foreigncountry or even to a class other than his own. His own kind he treatedas complete and understandable human creatures. All others were merelyobjective. As we, to a certain extent, happened to fall in the formercategory, he was as pleasant to us as possible--that is, he was pleasantto us in his way, but had not insight enough to guess at how to bepleasant to us in our way. But as soon as he got out of his own class, or what he conceived to be such, he considered all people as"outsiders. " He did not credit them with prejudices to rub, withfeelings to hurt, indeed hardly with ears to overhear. Provided hissubject was an "outsider, " he had not the slightest hesitancy in sayingexactly what he thought about any one, anywhere, always in his highclear English voice, no matter what the time or occasion. As a naturalcorollary he always rebuffed beggars and the like brutally, and wasalways quite sublimely doing little things that thoroughly shocked oursense of the other fellow's rights as a human being. In all this he didnot mean to be cruel or inconsiderate. It was just the way he was built;and it never entered his head that "such people" had ears and brains. 

In the rest of the ship's company were a dozen or so other Englishmen ofthe upper classes, either army men on shooting trips, or youths goingout with some idea of settling in the country. They were a clean-built, pleasant lot; good people to know anywhere, but of no unusual interest. It was only when one went abroad into the other nations that inscribablehuman interest could be found. 

There was the Greek, Scutari, and his bride, a languorous ratheropulent beauty, with large dark eyes for all men, and a luxurious mannerof lying back and fanning herself. She talked, soft-voiced, in half adozen languages, changing from one to the other without a break ineither her fluency or her thought. Her little lithe, active husband sataround and adored her. He was apparently a very able citizen indeed, forhe was going out to take charge of the construction work on a Germanrailway. To have filched so important a job from the Germans themselvesshows that he must have had ability. With them were a middle-agedHolland couple, engaged conscientiously in travelling over the globe. They had been everywhere--the two American hemispheres, from one ArcticSea to another, Siberia, China, the Malay Archipelago, this, that, andthe other odd corner of the world. Always they sat placidly side byside, either in the saloon or on deck, smiling benignly, and conversingin spaced, comfortable syllables with everybody who happened along. Mrs. Breemen worked industriously on some kind of feminine gear, andexplained to all and sundry that she travelled "to see de sceenery widmy hoos-band. "

Also in this group was a small wiry German doctor, who had lived formany years in the far interior of Africa, and was now returning afterhis vacation. He was a little man, bright-eyed and keen, with a clearcomplexion and hard flesh, in striking and agreeable contrast to most ofhis compatriots. The latter were trying to drink all the beer on theship; but as she had been stocked for an eighty-day voyage, of whichthis was but the second week, they were not making noticeable headway. However, they did not seem to be easily discouraged. The Herr Doktor wasmost polite and attentive, but as we did not talk German nor muchSwahili, and he had neither English nor much French, we had ourdifficulties. I have heard Billy in talking to him scatter fragments ofthese four languages through a single sentence!

For several days we drifted down a warm flat sea. Then one morning wecame on deck to find ourselves close aboard a number of volcanicislands. They were composed entirely of red and dark purple lava blocks, rugged, quite without vegetation save for occasional patches of stringygreen in a gully; and uninhabited except for a lighthouse on one, and afishing shanty near the shores of another. The high mournful mountains, with their dark shadows, seemed to brood over hot desolation. The rustedand battered stern of a wrecked steamer stuck up at an acute angle fromthe surges. Shortly after we picked up the shores of Arabia. 

Note the advantages of a half ignorance. From early childhood we hadthought of Arabia as the "burning desert"--flat, of course--and of theRed Sea as bordered by "shifting sands" alone. If we had known thetruth--if we had not been half ignorant--we would have missed theprofound surprise of discovering that in reality the Red Sea is borderedby high and rugged mountains, leaving just space enough betweenthemselves and the shore for a sloping plain on which our glasses couldmake out occasional palms. Perhaps the "shifting sands of the burningdesert" lie somewhere beyond; but somebody might have mentioned thesegreat mountains! After examining them attentively we had to confess thatif this sort of thing continued farther north the children of Israelmust have had a very hard time of it. Mocha shone white, glittering, andlow, with the red and white spire of a mosque rising brilliantly aboveit. 

VI. 

ADEN. 

It was cooler; and for a change we had turned into our bunks, when B. Pounded on our stateroom door. 

"In the name of the Eternal East, " said he, "come on deck!"

We slipped on kimonos, and joined the row of scantily draped andinterested figures along the rail. 

The ship lay quite still on a perfect sea of moonlight, bordered by alow flat distant shore on one side, and nearer mountains on the other. Astrong flare, centred from two ship reflectors overside, made a focus ofillumination that subdued, but could not quench, the soft moonlight withwhich all outside was silvered. A dozen boats, striving against acurrent or clinging as best they could to the ship's side, glided intothe light and became real and solid; or dropped back into the ghostlywhite unsubstantiality of the moon. They were long, narrow boats, withsmall flush decks fore and aft. We looked down on them from almostdirectly above, so that we saw the thwarts and the ribs and the thingsthey contained. 

Astern in each stood men, bending gracefully against the thrust of longsweeps. About their waists were squares of cloth, wrapped twice andtucked in. Otherwise they were naked, and the long smooth muscles oftheir slender bodies rippled under the skin. The latter was of abeautiful fine texture, and chocolate brown. These men had keen, intelligent, clear-cut faces, of the Greek order, as though the statuesof a garden had been stained brown and had come to life. They leaned ontheir sweeps, thrusting slowly but strongly against the little wind andcurrent that would drift them back. 

In the body of the boats crouched, sat, or lay a picturesque mob. Somepulled spasmodically on the very long limber oars; others squatted doingnothing; some, huddled shapelessly underneath white cloths thatcompletely covered them, slept soundly in the bottom. We took these formerchandise until one of them suddenly threw aside his covering and satup. Others, again, poised in proud and graceful attitudes on theextreme prows of their bobbing craft. Especially decorative were two, clad only in immense white turbans and white cloths about the waist. Anold Arab with a white beard stood midships in one boat, quitemotionless, except for the slight swaying necessary to preserve hisequilibrium, his voluminous white draperies fluttering in the wind, hisdark face just distinguishable under his burnouse. Most of the men wereSomalis, however. Their keen small faces, slender but graceful necks, slim, well-formed torsos bending to every movement of the boat, and thewhite or gaudy draped nether garments were as decorative as the figureson an Egyptian tomb. One or two of the more barbaric had made neatheaddresses of white clay plastered in the form of a skull-cap. 

After an interval a small and fussy tugboat steamed around our stern anddrew alongside the gangway. Three passengers disembarked from her andmade their way aboard. The main deck of the craft under an awning washeavily encumbered with trunks, tin boxes, hand baggage, tin bath-tubs, gun cases, and all sorts of impedimenta. The tugboat moored itself to usfore and aft, and proceeded to think about discharging. Perhaps twentymen in accurate replica of those in the small boats had charge of thejob. They had their own methods. After a long interval devoted strictlyto nothing, some unfathomable impulse would incite one or two or threeof the natives to tackle a trunk. At it they tugged and heaved andpushed in the manner of ants making off with a particularly large fly orother treasure trove, tossing it up the steep gangway to the level ofour decks. The trunks once safely bestowed, all interest, all industry, died. We thought that finished it, and wondered why the tug did not pullout of the way. But always, after an interval, another bright idea wouldstrike another native or natives. He--or they--would disappear beneaththe canvas awning over the tug's deck, to emerge shortly, carryingalmost anything, from a parasol to a heavy chest. 

On close inspection they proved to be a very small people. Theimpression of graceful height had come from the slenderness and justnessof their proportions, the smallness of their bones, and the uprightgrace of their carriage. After standing alongside one, we acquired afine respect for their ability to handle those trunks at all. 

Moored to the other side of the ship we found two huge lighters, fromwhich bales of goods were being hoisted aboard. Two camels and a dozendiminutive mules stood in the waist of one of these craft. The camelswere as sniffy and supercilious and scornful as camels always are; andeverybody promptly hated them with the hatred of the abysmally inferiorspirit for something that scorns it, as is the usual attitude of thehuman mind towards camels. We waited for upwards of an hour, in the hopeof seeing those camels hoisted aboard; but in vain. While we were sowaiting one of the deck passengers below us, a Somali in white clothesand a gorgeous cerise turban, decided to turn in. He spread a square ofthin matting atop one of the hatches, and began to unwind yards andyards of the fine silk turban. He came to the end of it--whisk! he sankto the deck; the turban, spread open by the resistance of the air, fluttered down to cover him from head to foot. Apparently he fell asleepat once, for he did not again move nor alter his position. He, as wellas an astonishingly large proportion of the other Somalis andAbyssinians we saw, carried a queer, well-defined, triangular wound inhis head. It had long since healed, was an inch or so across, and lookedas though a piece of the skull had been removed. If a conscientiousenemy had leisure and an icepick he would do just about that sort of ajob. How its recipient had escaped instant death is a mystery. 

At length, about three o'clock, despairing of the camels, we turned in. 

After three hours' sleep we were again on deck. Aden by daylight seemedto be several sections of a town tucked into pockets in bold, raw, lavamountains that came down fairly to the water's edge. Between thesepockets ran a narrow shore road; and along the road paced haughty camelshitched to diminutive carts. On contracted round bluffs towards the seawere various low bungalow buildings which, we were informed, comprisedthe military and civil officers' quarters. The real Aden has been builtinland a short distance at the bottom of a cup in the mountains. Elaborate stone reservoirs have been constructed to catch rain water, asthere is no other natural water supply whatever. The only difficulty isthat it practically never rains; so the reservoirs stand empty, thewater is distilled from the sea, and the haughty camels and the littlecarts do the distributing. 

The lava mountains occupy one side of the spacious bay or gulf. Thefoot of the bay and the other side are flat, with one or two verydistant white villages, and many heaps of glittering salt as big ashouses. 

We waited patiently at the rail for an hour more to see the camels slungaboard by the crane. It was worth the wait. They lost their impassiveand immemorial dignity completely, sprawling, groaning, positivelyshrieking in dismay. When the solid deck rose to them, and the sling hadbeen loosened, however, they regained their poise instantaneously. Theirnoses went up in the air, and they looked about them with a challenging, unsmiling superiority, as though to dare any one of us to laugh. Theirnative attendants immediately squatted down in front of them, and beganto feed them with convenient lengths of what looked like our commonmarsh cat-tails. The camels did not even then manifest the slightestinterest in the proceedings. Indeed, they would not condescend to reachout three inches for the most luscious tit-bit held that far from theiraristocratic noses. The attendants had actually to thrust the fodderbetween their jaws. I am glad to say they condescended to chew. 

VII. 

THE INDIAN OCEAN. 

Leaving Aden, and rounding the great promontory of Cape Guardafui, weturned south along the coast of Africa. Off the cape were strange, oilycross rips and currents on the surface of the sea; the flying-fish rosein flocks before our bows; high mountains of peaks and flat table topsthrust their summits into clouds; and along the coast the breakersspouted like whales. For the first time, too, we began to experiencewhat our preconceptions had imagined as tropical heat. Heretofore we hadbeen hot enough, in all conscience, but the air had felt as thoughwafted from an opened furnace door--dry and scorching. Now, although thetemperature was lower, [2] the humidity was greater. A swooning languorwas abroad over the spellbound ocean, a relaxing mist of enchantment. 

My glasses were constantly clouding over with a fine coating of waterdrops; exposed metal rusted overnight; the folds in garments accumulatedmildew in an astonishingly brief period of time. There was never eventhe suggestion of chill in this dampness. It clung and enveloped like agrateful garment; and seemed only to lack sweet perfume. 

At this time, by good fortune, it happened that the moon came full. Wehad enjoyed its waxing during our voyage down the Red Sea; but now ithad reached its greatest phase, and hung over the slumbering tropicocean like a lantern. The lazy sea stirred beneath it, and the shipglided on, its lights fairly subdued by the splendour of the waters. Under the awnings the ship's company lounged in lazy attitudes orpromenaded slowly, talking low voiced, cigars glowing in the splendiddusk. Overside, in the furrow of the disturbed waters, thephosphorescence flashed perpetually beneath the shadow of the ship. 

The days passed by languidly and all alike. On the chart outside thesmoking-room door the procession of tiny German flags on pins marchedsteadily, an inch at a time, towards the south. Otherwise we might aswell have imagined ourselves midgets afloat in a pond and gettingnowhere. 

Somewhere north of the equator--before Father Neptune in ancient stylehad come aboard and ducked the lot of us--we were treated to thespectacle of how the German "sheep" reacts under a joke. Each nation hasits type of fool; and all, for the joyousness of mankind, differ. On thebulletin board one evening appeared a notice to the effect that thefollowing morning a limited number of sportsmen would be permittedashore for the day. Each was advised to bring his own lunch, rifle, anddrinks. The reason alleged was that the ship must round a certain capeacross which the sportsmen could march afoot in sufficient time topermit them a little shooting. 

Now aboard ship were a dozen English, four Americans, and thirty orforty Germans. The Americans and English looked upon that bulletin, smiled gently, and went to order another round of lemon squashes. It wasa meek, mild, little joke enough; but surely the bulletin board was asfar as it could possibly go. Next morning, however, we observed ahalf-dozen of our German friends in khaki and sun helmet, very busy withlunch boxes, bottles of beer, rifles, and the like. They said they weregoing ashore as per bulletin. We looked at each other and hied us to theupper deck. There we found one of the boats slung overside, with our oldfriend the quartermaster ostentatiously stowing kegs of water, boxes, and the like. 

"When, " we inquired gently, "does the expedition start?"

"At ten o'clock, " said he. 

It was now within fifteen minutes of that hour. 

We were at the time fully ten miles off shore, and forging ahead fullspeed parallel with the coast. 

We pointed out this fact to the quartermaster, but found, to our sorrow, that the poor old man had suddenly gone deaf! We therefore refrainedfrom asking several other questions that had occurred to us--such as, why the cape was not shown on the map. 

"Somebody, " said one of the Americans, a cowboy going out second classon the look for new cattle country, "is a goat. It sure looks to me likeit was these yere steamboat people. They can't expect to rope nothing onsuch a raw deal as this!"

To which the English assented, though in different idiom. 

But now up the companion ladder struggled eight serious-mindedindividuals herded by the second mate. They were armed to the teeth, andthoroughly equipped with things I had seen in German catalogues, but inwhose existence I had never believed. A half-dozen sailors eagerlyhelped them with their multitudinous effects. Not a thought gave they tothe fact that we were ten miles off the coast, that we gave noindication of slackening speed, that it would take the rest of the dayto row ashore, that there was no cape for us to round, that if therewere--oh! all the other hundred improbabilities peculiar to thesituation. Under direction of the mate they deposited their impedimentabeneath a tarpaulin, and took their places in solemn rows amidshipsacross the thwarts of the boat slung overside. The importance of theoccasion sat upon them heavily; they were going ashore--in Africa--toSlay Wild Beasts. They looked upon themselves as of bolder, sternerstuff than the rest of us. 

When the procession first appeared, our cowboy's face for a singleinstant had flamed with amazed incredulity. Then a mask ofexpressionless stolidity fell across his features, which in no linethereafter varied one iota. 

"What are they going to do with them?" murmured one of the Englishmen, at a loss. 

"I reckon, " said the cowboy, "that they look on this as the easiest wayto drown them all to onct. "

Then from behind one of the other boats suddenly appeared a huge Germansailor with a hose. The devoted imbeciles in the shore boat weredrenched as by a cloud-burst. Back and forth and up and down the heavystream played, while every other human being about the ship shriekedwith joy. Did the victims rise up in a body and capture that hose nozzleand turn the stream to sweep the decks? Did they duck for shelter? Didthey at least know enough to scatter and run? They did none of thesethings; but sat there in meek little rows like mannikins until the boatwas half full of water and everything awash. Then, when the sailor shutoff the stream, they continued to sit there until the mate came to orderthem out. Why? I cannot tell you. Perhaps that is the German idea of howto take a joke. Perhaps they were afraid worse things might beconsequent on resistance. Perhaps they still hoped to go ashore. One ofthe Englishmen asked just that question. 

"What, " he demanded disgustedly, "what is the matter with the beggars?"

Our cowboy may have had the correct solution. He stretched his longlegs and jumped down from the rail. 

"Nothing stirring above the ears, " said he. 

It is customary in books of travel to describe this part of the journeysomewhat as follows: "Skirting the low and uninteresting shores ofAfrica we at length reached, " etc. Low and uninteresting shores! Throughthe glasses we made out distant mountains far beyond nearer hills. Thelatter were green-covered with dense forests whence rose mysterioussmokes. Along the shore we saw an occasional cocoanut plantation to thewater's edge and native huts and villages of thatch. Canoes of strangemodels lay drawn up on shelving beaches; queer fish-pounds of brushreached out considerable distances from the coast. The white surfpounded on a yellow beach. 

All about these things was the jungle, hemming in the plantations andvillages, bordering the lagoons, creeping down until it fairly overhungthe yellow beaches; as though, conqueror through all the country beyond, it were half-inclined to dispute dominion with old Ocean himself. Itlooked from the distance like a thick, soft coverlet thrown down overthe country; following--or, rather, suggesting--the inequalities. Through the glasses we were occasionally able to peep under the edge ofthis coverlet, and see where the fringe of the jungle drew back in alittle pocket, or to catch the sheen of mysterious dark rivers slippingto the sea. Up these dark rivers, by way of the entrances of these tinypockets, the imagination then could lead on into the dimness beneath thesunlit upper surfaces. 

Towards the close of one afternoon we changed our course slightly, andswung in on a long slant towards the coast. We did it casually; toocasually for so very important an action, for now at last we were aboutto touch the mysterious continent. Then we saw clearer the fine, biggroves of palm and the luxuriance of the tropical vegetation. Againstthe greenery, bold and white, shone the buildings of Mombasa; and aftera little while we saw an inland glitter that represented her narrow, deep bay, the stern of a wreck against the low, green cliffs, andstrange, fat-trunked squat trees without leaves. Straight past all thiswe glided at half speed, then turned sharp to the right to enter a longwide expanse like a river, with green banks, twenty feet or so inheight, grown thickly with the tall cocoanut palms. These gave way attimes into broad, low lagoons, at the end of which were small beachesand boats, and native huts among more cocoanut groves. Through ourglasses we could see the black men watching us, quite motionless, squatted on their heels. 

It was like suddenly entering another world, this gliding from the opensea straight into the heart of a green land. The ceaseless wash of waveswe had left outside with the ocean; our engines had fallen silent. Across the hushed waters came to us strange chantings and the beating ofa tom-tom, an occasional shrill shout from the unknown jungle. The sunwas just set, and the tops of the palms caught the last rays; all belowwas dense green shadow. Across the surface of the water glided dug-outcanoes of shapes strange to us. We passed ancient ruins almostcompletely dismantled, their stones half smothered in green rank growth. The wide river-like bay stretched on before us as far as the waninglight permitted us to see; finally losing itself in the heart ofmystery. 

Steadily and confidently our ship steamed forward, until at last, whenwe seemed to be afloat in a land-locked lake, we dropped anchor and cameto rest. 

Darkness fell utterly before the usual quarantine regulations had beencarried through. Active and efficient agents had already taken chargeof our affairs, so we had only to wait idly by the rail until summoned. Then we jostled our way down the long gangway, passed and repassed bynatives carrying baggage or returning for more baggage, stepped brisklyaboard a very bobby little craft, clambered over a huge pile of baggage, and stowed ourselves as best we could. A figure in a long white robe satastern, tiller ropes in hand; two half-naked blacks far up towards theprow manipulated a pair of tremendous sweeps. With a vast heaving, jabbering, and shouting, our boat disengaged itself from the swarm ofother craft. We floated around the stern of our ship, and wereimmediately suspended in blackness dotted with the stars and theirreflections, and with various twinkling scattered lights. To one ofthese we steered, and presently touched at a stone quay with steps. Atlast we set foot on the land to which so long we had journeyed andtowards which our expectations had grown so great. We experienced "thepleasure that touches the souls of men landing on strange shores. "

FOOTNOTES:

[2] 82-88° degrees in daytime, and 75-83° degrees at night. 

VIII. 

MOMBASA. 

A single light shone at the end of the stone quay, and another inside abig indeterminate building at some distance. We stumbled towards this, and found it to be the biggest shed ever constructed out of corrugatediron. A bearded Sikh stood on guard at its open entrance. He let any oneand every one enter, with never a flicker of his expressionless blackeyes; but allowed no one to go out again without the closest scrutinyfor dutiable articles that lacked the blue customs plaster. We entered. The place was vast and barnlike and dim, and very, very hot. Ahalf-dozen East Indians stood behind the counters; another, a babu, satat a little desk ready to give his clerical attention to what might berequired. We saw no European; but next morning found that one passed hisdaylight hours in this inferno of heat. For the moment we let our mainbaggage go, and occupied ourselves only with getting through our smallereffects. This accomplished, we stepped out past the Sikh into thegrateful night. 

We had as guide a slender and wiry individual clad in tarboush and longwhite robe. In a vague, general way we knew that the town of Mombasa wasacross the island and about four miles distant. In what direction or howwe got there we had not the remotest idea. 

The guide set off at a brisk pace with which we tried in vain to keepstep. He knew the ground, and we did not; and the night was black dark. Commands to stop were of no avail whatever; nor could we get hold of himto restrain him by force. When we put on speed he put on speed too. Hiswhite robe glimmered ahead of us just in sight; and in the darknessother white robes, passing and crossing, glimmered also. At first theground was rough, so that we stumbled outrageously. Billy and B. Soonfell behind, and I heard their voices calling plaintively for us to slowdown a bit. 

"If I ever lose this nigger, I'll never find him again, " I shouted back, "but I can find you. Do the best you can!"

We struck a smoother road that led up a hill on a long slant. Apparently for miles we followed thus, the white-robed individual aheadstill deaf to all commands and the blood-curdling threats I had now cometo uttering. All our personal baggage had long since mysteriouslydisappeared, ravished away from us at the customs house by a raggedhorde of blacks. It began to look as though we were stranded in Africawithout baggage or effects. Billy and B. Were all the time growingfainter in the distance, though evidently they too had struck the long, slanting road. 

Then we came to a dim, solitary lantern glowing feebly beside a bench atwhat appeared to be the top of the hill. Here our guide at last came toa halt and turned to me a grinning face. 

"Samama hapa, " he observed. 

There! That was the word I had been frantically searching my memory for!Samama--stop!

The others struggled in. We were very warm. Up to the bench led a tinycar track, the rails not over two feet apart, like the toy railroadschildren use. This did not look much like grownup transportation, but itand the bench and the dim lantern represented all the visible world. 

We sat philosophically on the bench and enjoyed the soft tropicalnight. The air was tepid, heavy with unknown perfume, black as a band ofvelvet across the eyes, musical with the subdued undertones of athousand thousand night insects. At points overhead the soft blinddarkness melted imperceptibly into stars. 

After a long interval we distinguished a distant faint rattling, thateach moment increased in loudness. Shortly came into view along thenarrow tracks a most extraordinary vehicle. It was a small squareplatform on wheels, across which ran a bench seat, and over which spreada canopy. It carried also a dim lantern. This rumbled up to us andstopped. From its stern hopped two black boys. Obeying a smilinginvitation, we took our places on the bench. The two boys immediatelyset to pushing us along the narrow track. 

We were off at an astonishing speed through the darkness. The night wasdeliciously tepid; and, as I have said, absolutely dark. We made out thetops of palms and the dim loom of great spreading trees, and could smellsweet, soft odours. The bare-headed, lightly-clad boys patteredalongside whenever the grade was easy, one hand resting against therail; or pushed mightily up little hills; or clung alongside likemonkeys while we rattled and swooped and plunged down hill into thedarkness. Subsequently we learned that a huge flat beam projectingamidships from beneath the seat operated a brake which we above weresupposed to manipulate; but being quite ignorant as to the ethics andmechanics of this strange street-car system, we swung and swayed attimes quite breathlessly. 

After about fifteen minutes we began to pick up lights ahead, then topass dimly-seen garden walls with trees whose brilliant flowers thelantern revealed fitfully. At last we made out white stucco houses, andshortly drew up with a flourish before the hotel itself. 

This was a two-story stucco affair, with deep verandas sunken in at eachstory. It fronted a wide white street facing a public garden; and this, we subsequently discovered, was about the only clear and open space inall the narrow town. Antelope horns were everywhere hung on the walls;and teakwood easy-chairs, with rests on which comfortably to elevateyour feet above your head, stood all about. We entered a bare, brick-floored dining-room, and partook of tropical fruits quite new tous--papayes, mangoes, custard apples, pawpaws, and the small red eatingbananas too delicate for export. Overhead the punkahs swung back andforth in lazy hypnotic rhythm. We could see the two blacks at the endsof the punkah cords outside on the veranda, their bodies swaying lithelyin alternation as they threw their weight against the light ropes. Otherblacks, in the long white robes and exquisitely worked white skull capsof the Swahili, glided noiselessly on bare feet, serving. 

After dinner we sat out until midnight in the teakwood chairs of theupper gallery, staring through the arches into the black, mysteriousnight, for it was very hot, and we rather dreaded the necessary mosquitoveils as likely to prove stuffy. The mosquitoes are few in Mombasa, butthey are very deadly--very. At midnight the thermometer stood 87° F. 

Our premonitions as to stuffiness were well justified. After a restlessnight we came awake at daylight to the sound of a fine row of some sortgoing on outside in the streets. Immediately we arose, threw aside thelattices, and hung out over the sill. 

The chalk-white road stretched before us. Opposite was a public square, grown with brilliant flowers, and flowering trees. We could not doubtthe cause of the trouble. An Indian on a bicycle, hurrying to hisoffice, had knocked down a native child. Said child, quite naked, satin the middle of the white dust and howled to rend the heavens--wheneverhe felt himself observed. If, however, the attention of the crowdhappened for the moment to be engrossed with the babu, the injured onesat up straight and watched the row with interested, rolling, pickaninnyeyes. A native policeman made the centre of a whirling, vociferatinggroup. He was a fine-looking chap, straight and soldierly, dressed inred tarboosh, khaki coat bound close around the waist by yards and yardsof broad red webbing, loose, short drawers of khaki, bare knees andfeet, and blue puttees between. His manner was inflexible. The babujabbered excitedly; telling, in all probability, how he was innocent offault, was late for his work, etc. In vain. He had to go; also the kid, who now, seeing himself again an object of interest, recommenced hishowling. Then the babu began frantically to indicate members of thecrowd whom he desired to retain as witnesses. Evidently not pleased withthe prospect of appearing in court, those indicated promptly ducked andran. The policeman as promptly pursued and collared them one by one. Hewas a long-legged policeman, and he ran well. The moment he laid handson a fugitive, the latter collapsed; whereupon the policeman dropped himand took after another. The joke of it was that the one so abandoned didnot try again to make off, but stayed as though he had been tagged atsome game. Finally the whole lot, still vociferating, moved off down thewhite road. 

For over an hour we hung from our window sill, thoroughly interested andamused by the varied life that deployed before our eyes. The morningseemed deliciously cool after the hot night, although the thermometerstood high. The sky was very blue, with big piled white clouds down nearthe horizon. Dazzling sun shone on the white road, the white buildingsvisible up and down the street, the white walls enclosing their gardens, and the greenery and colours of the trees within them. For from what wecould see from our window we immediately voted tropical vegetation quiteup to advertisement: whole trees of gaudy red or yellow or bright orangeblossoms, flowering vines, flowering shrubs, peered over the walls orthrough the fences; and behind them rose great mangoes or the slenderershafts of bananas and cocoanut palms. 

Up and down wandered groups of various sorts of natives. A month laterwe would have been able to identify their different tribes and to knowmore about them; but now we wondered at them, as strange andpicturesque peoples. They impressed us in general as being a fine lot ofmen, for they were of good physique, carried themselves well, and lookedabout them with a certain dignity and independence, a fine free pride ofcarriage and of step. This fact alone differentiated them from our ownnegroes; but, further, their features were in general much finer, andtheir skins of a clear mahogany beautiful in its satiny texture. Most--and these were the blackest--wore long white robes and fineopenwork skull caps. They were the local race, the Swahili, had we butknown it; the original "Zanzibari" who furnished Livingstone, Stanley, Speke, and the other early explorers with their men. Others, however, were much less "civilized. " We saw one "Cook's tour from the jungle"consisting of six savages, their hair twisted into innumerable points, their ear lobes stretched to hang fairly to their shoulders, wearingonly a rather neglectful blanket, adorned with polished wire, carryingwar clubs and bright spears. They followed, with eyes and mouths open, avery sophisticated-looking city cousin in the usual white garments, swinging a jaunty, light bamboo cane. The cane seems to be adistinguishing mark of the leisured class. It not only means that youare not working, but also that you have no earthly desire to work. 

About this time one of the hotel boys brought the inevitablechota-hazri--the tea and biscuits of early morning. For this once it wasvery welcome. 

Our hotel proved to be on the direct line of freighting. There are nohorses or draught animals in Mombasa; the fly is too deadly. Thereforeall hauling is done by hand. The tiny tracks of the unique street carsystem run everywhere any one would wish to go; branching off even intoprivate grounds and to the very front doors of bungalows situated farout of town. Each resident owns his own street car, just as elsewhere aman has his own carriage. There are, of course, public cars also, eachwith its pair of boys to push it; and also a number of rather decrepitrickshaws. As a natural corollary to the passenger traffic, thefreighting also is handled by the blacks on large flat trucks with shortguiding poles. These men are quite naked save for a small loin cloth;are beautifully shaped; and glisten all over with perspiration shiningin the sun. So fine is the texture of their skins, the softness of theircolour--so rippling the play of muscles--that this shining perspirationis like a beautiful polish. They rush from behind, slowly and steadily, and patiently and unwaveringly, the most tremendous loads of theheaviest stuffs. When the hill becomes too steep for them, they turntheir backs against the truck; and by placing one foot behind the other, a few inches at a time, they edge their burden up the slope. 

The steering is done by one man at the pole or tongue in front. Thisindividual also sets the key to the song by which in Africa all heavylabour is carried forward. He cries his wavering shrill-voiced chant;the toilers utter antiphony in low gruff tones. At a distance one hearsonly the wild high syncopated chanting; but as the affair draws slowlynearer, he catches the undertone of the responses. These latter are castin the regular swing and rhythm of effort; but the steersman throws inhis bit at odd and irregular intervals. Thus:

Headman (shrill): "Hay, ah mon!"

Pushers (gruff in rhythm): "Tunk!--tunk!--tunk!--" or:

Headman (and wavering minor chant): "Ah--nah--nee--e-e-e!"

Pushers (undertone): "Umbwa--jo-e! Um-bwa--jo--e!"

These wild and barbaric chantings--in the distance; near at hand; dyinginto distance again--slow, dogged, toilsome, came to be to us one of thetypical features of the place. 

After breakfast we put on our sun helmets and went forth curiously toview the town. We found it roughly divided into four quarters--the oldPortuguese, the Arabic, the European, and the native. The Portuguesecomprises the outer fringe next the water-front of the inner bay. It isvery narrow of street, with whitewashed walls, balconies, and wonderfulcarven and studded doors. The business of the town is done here. TheArabic quarter lies back of it--a maze of narrow alleys windingaimlessly here and there between high white buildings, with occasionallythe minarets and towers of a mosque. This district harboured, besidesthe upper-class Swahilis and Arabs, a large number of East Indians. Still back of this are thousands of the low grass, or mud and wattlehuts of the natives, their roofs thatched with straw or palm. These areapparently arranged on little system. The small European populationlives atop the sea bluffs beyond the old fort in the most attractivebungalows. This, the most desirable location of all, has remained opento them because heretofore the fierce wars with which Mombasa, "theIsland of Blood, " has been swept have made the exposed seaward landsimpossible. 

No idle occupation can be more fascinating than to wander about themazes of this ancient town. The variety of race and occupation issomething astounding. Probably the one human note that, everywherepersisting, draws the whole together is furnished by the water-carriers. Mombasa has no water system whatever. The entire supply is drawn fromnumberless picturesque wells scattered everywhere in the crowded centre, and distributed mainly in Standard Oil cans suspended at either end of ashort pole. By dint of constant daily exercise, hauling water up from adepth and carrying it various distances, these men have developed themost beautifully powerful figures. They proceed at a half trot, theslender poles, with forty pounds at either end, seeming fairly to cutinto their naked shoulders, muttering a word of warning to the loiterersat every other breath--semeelay! semeelay! No matter in what part ofMombasa you may happen to be, or at what hour of the day or night, youwill meet these industrious little men trotting along under theirburdens. 

Everywhere also are the women, carrying themselves proudly erect, with afree swing of the hips. They wear invariably a single sheet of cottoncloth printed in blue or black with the most astonishing borders andspotty designs. This is drawn tight just above the breasts, leaving theshoulders and arms bare. Their hair is divided into perhaps a dozenparts running lengthwise of the head from the forehead to the nape ofthe neck, after the manner of the stripes on a watermelon. Each partthen ends in a tiny twisted pigtail not over an inch long. The lobes oftheir ears have been stretched until they hold thick round disks aboutthree inches in diameter, ornamented by concentric circles of differentcolours, with a red bull's eye for a centre. The outer edges of the earsare then further decorated with gold clasps set closely together. Manybracelets, necklaces, and armlets complete the get-up. They are bigwomen, with soft velvety skins and a proud and haughty carriage--thecounterparts of the men in the white robes and caps. 

By the way, it may be a good place here to remark that these garments, and the patterned squares of cloth worn by the women, are invariablymost spotlessly clean. 

These, we learned, were the Swahilis, the ruling class, the descendantsof the slave traders. Beside them are all sorts and conditions. Yourtrue savage pleased his own fancy as to dress and personal adornment. The bushmen generally shaved the edges of their wool to leave a niceclose-fitting natural skull cap, wore a single blanket draped from oneshoulder, and carried a war club. The ear lobe seemed always to bestretched; sometimes sufficiently to have carried a pint bottle. Indeed, white marmalade jars seemed to be very popular wear. One ingeniousperson had acquired a dozen of the sort of safety pins used to fastencurtains to their rings. These he had snapped into the lobes, six on aside. 

We explored for some time. One of the Swahilis attached himself to us sounobtrusively that before we knew it we had accepted him as guide. Inthat capacity he realized an ideal, for he never addressed a word to us, nor did he even stay in sight. We wandered along at our sweet will, dawdling as slowly as we pleased. The guide had apparently quitedisappeared. Look where we would we could in no manner discover him. Atthe next corner we would pause, undecided as to what to do; there, inthe middle distance, would stand our friend, smiling. When he was surewe had seen him, and were about to take the turn properly, he woulddisappear again. Convoyed in this pleasant fashion we wound and twistedup and down and round and about through the most appalling maze. We sawthe native markets with their vociferating sellers seated cross-leggedon tables behind piles of fruit or vegetables, while an equallyvociferating crowd surged up and down the aisles. Gray parrots andlittle monkeys perched everywhere about. Billy gave one of the monkeys abanana. He peeled it exactly as a man would have done, smelt itcritically, and threw it back at her in the most insulting fashion. Wesaw also the rows of Hindu shops open to the street, with their gaudilydressed children of blackened eyelids, their stolid dirty proprietors, and their women marvellous in bright silks and massive bangles. In thethatched native quarter were more of the fine Swahili women sittingcross-legged on the earth under low verandas, engaged in differenthandicrafts; and chickens; and many amusing naked children. We madefriends with many of them, communicating by laughter and by signs, whileour guide stood unobtrusively in the middle distance waiting for us tocome on. Just at sunset he led us out to a great open space, with a tallpalm in the centre of it and the gathering of a multitude of people. Amollah was clambering into a high scaffold built of poles, whenceshortly he began to intone a long-drawn-out "Allah! Allah! il Allah!"The cocoanut palms cut the sunset, and the boabab trees--the fat, lazyboababs--looked more monstrous than ever. We called our guide andconferred on him the munificent sum of sixteen and a half cents; withwhich, apparently much pleased, he departed. Then slowly we wanderedback to the hotel. 

PART II. 

THE SHIMBA HILLS. 

IX. 

A TROPICAL JUNGLE. 

Many months later, and after adventures elsewhere described, [3] besidesothers not relevant for the moment, F. , an Englishman, and I returned toMombasa. We came from some hundred odd miles in the interior where wehad been exploring the sources and the course of the Tsavo River. Nowour purpose was to penetrate into the low, hot, wooded country along thecoast known as the Shimba Hills in quest of a rare beast called thesable antelope. 

These hills could be approached in one of two ways--by crossing theharbour, and then marching two days afoot; or by voyaging up to the veryend of one of the long arms of the sea that extend many miles inland. The latter involved dhows, dependence on uncertain winds, favourabletides, and a heap of good luck. It was less laborious but mostuncertain. At this stage of the plan the hotel manager came forward withthe offer of a gasoline launch, which we gladly accepted. 

We embarked about noon, storing our native carriers and effects aboard adhow hired for the occasion. This we purposed towing. A very neatlyuniformed Swahili bearing on his stomach a highly-polished brass labelas big as a door plate--"Harbour Police"--threw duck fists over what hecalled overloading the boat. He knew very little about boats, but threwvery competent duck fists. As we did know something about boats, webraved unknown consequences by disregarding him utterly. No consequencesensued--unless perhaps to his own health. When everything was aboard, that dhow was pretty well down, but still well afloat. Then we white mentook our places in the launch. 

This was a long narrow affair with a four-cylinder thirty-horsepowerengine. As she possessed no speed gears, she had either to plunge aheadfull speed or come to a stop; there were no compromises. Her steeringwas managed by a tiller instead of a wheel, so that a mere touchsufficed to swerve her ten feet from her course. As the dhow was in norespects built on such nervous lines, she did occasionally some fancyand splashing curves. 

The pilot of the launch turned out to be a sandy-haired Yankee who hadbeen catching wild animals for Barnum and Bailey's circus. While waitingfor his ship, he, being a proverbial handy Yankee, had taken on thisjob. He became quite interested in telling us this, and at times forgothis duties at the tiller. Then that racing-launch would take a wildswoop; the clumsy old dhow astern would try vainly, with much spray anddangerous careening, to follow; the compromise course would all butupset her; the spray would fly; the safari boys would take theirducking; the boat boys would yell and dance and lean frantically againstthe two long sweeps with which they tried to steer. In this wild anduntrammelled fashion we careered up the bay, too interested in our ownperformances to pay much attention to the scenery. The low shores, withtheir cocoanut groves gracefully rising above the mangrove tangle, slipped by, and the distant blue Shimba Hills came nearer. 

After a while we turned into a narrower channel with a good many curvesand a quite unknown depth of water. Down this we whooped at the fullspeed of our thirty-horsepower engine. Occasional natives, waist deepand fishing, stared after us open-eyed. The Yankee ventured a guess asto how hard she would hit on a mudbank. She promptly proved his guess arank underestimate by doing so. We fell in a heap on the bottom. Thedhow bore down on us with majestic momentum. The boat boys leanedfrantically on their sweeps, and managed just to avoid us. The dhow alsorammed the mudbank. A dozen reluctant boys hopped overboard and pushedus off. We pursued our merry way again. On either hand now appeared fishweirs of plaited coco fibre; which, being planted in the shallows, helped us materially to guess at the channel. Naked men, up to theirshoulders in the water, attended to some mysterious need of the nets, oremerged dripping and sparkling from the water with baskets of fish atoptheir heads. The channel grew even narrower, and the mudbanks morefrequent. We dodged a dozen in our headlong course. Our local guide, aSwahili in tarboosh and a beautiful saffron robe, showed signs of strongexcitement. We were to stop, he said, around the next bend; and at thisrate we never could stop. The Yankee remarked, superfluously, that itwould be handy if this dod-blistered engine had a clutch; adding, as anafterthought, that no matter how long he stayed in the tropics his nosepeeled. We asked what we should do if we over-carried our prospectivelanding-place. He replied that the dod-blistered thing did have areverse. While thus conversing we shot around a corner into a completecul-de-sac! Everything was shut off hastily, and an instant later we andthe dhow smashed up high and dry on a cozy mud beach! We drew a deepbreath and looked around us. 

Mangrove thicket to the edge of the slimy ooze; trees behind--that wasall we could see. We gave our attention to the business of getting ourmen, our effects, and ourselves ashore. The ooze proved to be just aboveknee deep. The porters had a fearful and floundering time, and receivedmuch obvious comment from us perched in the bow of the launch. Finallyeverything was debarked. F. And I took off our boots; but our gunbearersexpressed such horror at the mere thought of our plunging into the mud, that we dutifully climbed them pick-a-back and were carried. The hardshell beach was a hundred feet away, occupying a little recess where thepersistent tough mangroves drew back. From it led a narrow path throughthe thicket. We waved and shouted a farewell to the crews of the launchand the dhow. 

The path for a hundred feet was walled in by the mangroves through whichscuttled and rattled the big land crabs. Then suddenly we foundourselves in a story-book tropical paradise. The tall coco palms rosetufted above everything; the fans of the younger palms waved below;bananas thrust the banners of their broad leaves wherever they couldfind space; creepers and vines flung the lush luxuriance of theirgreenery over all the earth and into the depths of all the half-guessedshadows. In no direction could one see unobstructed farther than twentyfeet, except straight up; and there one could see just as far as thetops of the palms. It was like being in a room--a green, hot, steamy, lovely room. Very bright-coloured birds that ought really to have beenat home in their cages fluttered about. 

We had much vigorous clearing to do to make room for our tents. By thetime the job was finished we were all pretty hot. Several of the boysmade vain attempts to climb for nuts, but without success. We hadbrought them with us from the interior, where cocoanuts do not grow; andthey did not understand the method. They could swarm up the tall slimstems all right, but could not manage to get through thedownward-pointing spikes of the dead leaves. F. Tried and failed, to thegreat amusement of the men, but to the greater amusement of myself. Iwas a wise person, and lay on my back on a canvas cot, so it was notmuch bother to look up and enjoy life. Not to earn absolutely the stigmaof laziness, I tried to shoot some nuts down. This did not work either, for the soft, spongy stems closed around the bullet holes. Then a littlewizened monkey of a Swahili porter, having watched our futileperformances with interest, nonchalantly swarmed up; in some mysteriousmanner he wriggled through the defences, and perched in the top, whencehe dropped to us a dozen big green nuts. Our men may not have been muchof a success at climbing for nuts; but they were passed masters at theart of opening them. Three or four clips from their awkward swordlikepangas, and we were each presented with a clean, beautiful, naturalgoblet brimming full of a refreshing drink. 

About this time a fine figure of a man drifted into camp. He was verysmooth-skinned, very dignified, very venerable. He was pure Swahili, though of the savage branch of that race, and had none of the negrotype of countenance. In fact, so like was he in face, hair, short squarebeard and genial dignity to a certain great-uncle of mine that it wasvery hard to remember that he had on only a small strip of cloth, thathe was cherishing as a great treasure a piece of soap box he hadsalvaged from the shore, and that his skin was red chocolate. I feltinclined to talk to him as to an intellectual equal, especially as hehad a fine resonant bass voice that in itself lent his remarks someimportance. However, I gave him two ordinary wood screws, showed him howthey screwed in and out, and left him happy. 

After supper the moon rose, casting shadows of new and unknown shapesthrough this strangely new and unknown forest. A thin white mistascending everywhere from the soil tempered but could not obscure thewhite brilliance. The thermometer stood now only at 82°, but thedripping tropical sweat-bath in which our camp was pitched considerablyraised the sensible heat. A bird with a most diabolical shrieking notecursed in the shadows. Another, a pigeon-like creature, began softly, and continued to repeat in diminishing energy until it seemed to haverun down, like a piece of clockwork. 

Our way next morning led for some time through this lovely but dampjungle. Then we angled up the side of a hill to emerge into thecomparatively open country atop what we Westerners would call a "hog'sback"--a long narrow spurlike ridge mounting slowly to the generalelevation of the main hills. Here were high green bushes, with littlefree open passages between them, and occasionally meadow-like openingsrunning down the slopes on one side or the other. Before us, some milesdistant, were the rounded blue hills. 

We climbed steadily. It was still very early morning, but already theday was hot. Pretty soon we saw over the jungle to the gleaming watersof the inlet, and then to the sea. Our "hog's back" led us past a ridgeof the hills, and before we knew it we had been deposited in a shallowvalley three or four miles wide between parallel ridges; the said valleybeing at a considerable elevation, and itself diversified with rollinghills, ravines, meadow land, and wide flats. On many of the ridges werescattered cocoanut palms, and occasional mango groves, while many smokesattested the presence of natives. 

These we found in shambas or groups of little farms, huddled alltogether, with wilderness and brush and trees, or the wide open greengrass lawn between. The houses were very large and neat-looking. Theywere constructed quite ingeniously from coco branches. Each branch madeone mat. The leaves were all brought over to the same side of the stem, and then plaited. The resulting mat was then six or seven feet long byfrom twelve to sixteen inches broad, and could be used for a variety ofpurposes. Indeed, we found Melville's chapter in "Typhee" as to thevarious uses of the cocoanut palm by no means exaggerated. The nuts, leaves, and fibre supplied every conceivable human want. 

The natives were a pleasant, friendly, good-looking lot. In fact, solike was their cast of countenance to that of the white-skinned peoplewe were accustomed to see that we had great difficulty in realizing thatthey were mere savages, costume--or lack of it--to the contrarynotwithstanding. Under a huge mango tree two were engaged in dividing asheep. Sixty or seventy others stood solemnly around watching. It mayhave been a religious ceremony, for all I know; but the affair looked tobe about two parts business to sixty of idle and cheerful curiosity. Westopped and talked to them a little, chaffed the pretty girls--they werereally pretty--and marched on. 

About noon our elegant guide stopped, struck an attitude, and pointedwith his silver-headed rattan cane. 

"This, " said he, "is where we must camp. "

We marched through a little village. A family party sat beneath theveranda of a fine building--a very old wrinkled couple; two stalwartbeautiful youths; a young mother suckling her baby; two young girls; andeight or ten miscellaneous and naked youngsters. As the rest of thevillage appeared to be empty, I imagined this to be the caretaker'sfamily, and the youngsters to belong to others. We stopped and spoke, were answered cheerfully, suggested that we might like to buy chickens, and offered a price. Instantly with a whoop of joy the lot of them wereafoot. The fowl waited for no further intimations of troublous times, but fled squawking. They had been there before. So had our hosts; forinside a minute they had returned, each with a chicken--and a broadgrin. 

After due payment we proceeded on a few hundred yards, and pitched campbeneath two huge mango trees. 

Besides furnishing one of the most delicious of the tropical fruits, the mango is also one of the most beautiful of trees. It is tall, spreads very wide, and its branches sweep to within ten feet of theground. Its perfect symmetry combined with the size and deep green ofits leaves causes it to resemble, from a short distance, a beautifulgreen hill. Beneath its umbrella one finds dense shade, unmottled by asingle ray of sunlight, so that one can lie under it in full confidence. For, parenthetically, even a single ray of this tropical sunlight is tothe unprotected a very dangerous thing. But the leaves of the mango havethis peculiarity, which distinguishes it from all other trees--namely, that they grow only at the very ends of the small twigs and branches. Asthese, of course, grow only at the ends of the big limbs, it followsthat from beneath the mango looks like a lofty green dome, a veritablepantheon of the forest. 

We made our camp under one of these trees; gave ourselves all the spacewe could use; and had plenty left over--five tents and a cook camp, withno crowding. It was one of the pleasantest camps I ever saw. Our greendome overhead protected us absolutely from the sun; high sweet grassgrew all about us; the breeze wandered lazily up from the distantIndian Ocean. Directly before our tent door the slope fell gently awaythrough a sparse cocoanut grove whose straight stems panelled our view, then rose again to the clear-cut outline of a straight ridge opposite. The crest of this was sentinelled by tall scattered cocoanut trees, the"bursting star" pyrotechnic effect of their tops being particularly fineagainst the sky. 

After a five hours' tropical march uphill we were glad to sit under ourgreen dome, to look at our view, to enjoy the little breeze, and todrink some of the cocoanuts our friends the villagers brought in. 

FOOTNOTES:

[3] "The Land of Footprints. "

X. 

THE SABLE. 

About three o'clock I began to feel rested and ambitious. Therefore Icalled up our elegant guide and Memba Sasa, and set out on my first huntfor sable. F. Was rather more done up by the hard morning, and so didnot go along. The guide wore still his red tarboosh, his dark shortjacket, his saffron yellow nether garment--it was not exactly askirt--and his silver-headed rattan cane. The only change he made was totuck up the skirt, leaving his long legs bare. It hardly seemedaltogether a suitable costume for hunting; but he seemed to know what hewas about. 

We marched along ridges, and down into ravines, and across gulleyschoked with brush. Horrible thickets alternated with and occasionallysurrounded open green meadows hanging against the side hills. As weproceeded, the country became rougher, the ravines more precipitous. Westruggled up steep hills, fairly bucking our way through low growth thatproved all but impenetrable. The idea was to find a sable feeding in oneof the little open glades; but whenever I allowed myself to think of themany adverse elements of the game, the chances seemed very slim. It tooka half-hour to get from one glade to the next; there were thousands ofglades. The sable is a rare shy animal that likes dense cover fully aswell if not better than the open. Sheer rank bull luck alone seemed theonly hope. And as I felt my strength going in that vicious struggleagainst heavy brush and steep hills, I began to have very strong doubtsindeed as to that sable. 

For it was cruel, hard work. In this climate one hailed a car or arickshaw to do an errand two streets away, and considered oneself quitea hero if one took a leisurely two-mile stroll along the cliff heads atsunset. Here I was, after a five-hour uphill march, bucking into brushand through country that would be considered difficult going even inCanada. At the end of twenty minutes my every garment was not wringingbut dripping wet, so that when I carried my rifle over my arm water randown the barrel and off the muzzle in a steady stream. After a bit ofthis my knees began to weaken; and it became a question of savingenergy, of getting along somehow, and of leaving the actual hunting toMemba Sasa and the guide. If they had shown me a sable, I very muchdoubt if I could have hit it. 

However, we did not see one, and I staggered into camp at dusk prettywell exhausted. From the most grateful hot bath and clean clothes Iderived much refreshment. Shortly I was sitting in my canvas chair, sipping a cocoanut, and describing the condition of affairs to F. , whowas naturally very curious as to how the trick was done. 

"Now, " I concluded, "I know just about what I can and what I cannot do. Three days more of this sort of work will feed me up. If we do not runacross a sable in that time, I'm afraid we don't get any. "

"Two days will do for me, " said he. 

We called up the guide and questioned him closely. He seemed quiteconfident; and asserted that in this country sable were found, when theywere found at all, which was not often. They must be discovered in thesmall grassy openings. We began to understand why so very few people getsable. 

We dismissed the guide, and sat quietly smoking in the warm softevening. The air was absolutely still save for various night insects andbirds, and the weird calling of natives across the valleys. Far outtowards the sea a thunderstorm flashed; and after a long interval therumblings came to us. So very distant was it that we paid it littleattention, save as an interesting background to our own still evening. Almost between sentences of our slow conversation, however, it rushed upto the zenith, blotting out the stars. The tall palms began to sway andrustle in the forerunning breeze. Then with a swoop it was upon us, atempest of fury. We turned in; and all night long the heavy deluges ofrain fell, roaring like surf on an unfriendly coast. 

By morning this had fallen to a light, steady drizzle in which westarted off quite happily. In this climate one likes to get wet. Theground was sodden and deep with muck. Within a mile of camp we saw manyfresh buffalo tracks. 

This time we went downhill and still downhill through openings amongbatches of great forest trees. The new leaves were just coming out inpinks and russets, so that the effect at a little distance was almostprecisely that of our autumn foliage in its duller phases. So familiarwere made some of the low rounded knolls that for an instant we wererespectively back in the hills of Surrey or Michigan, and told eachother so. 

Thus we moved slowly out from the dense cover to the grass openings. Farover on another ridge F. Called my attention to something jet-black andindeterminate. In another country I should have named it as a charredlog on an old pine burning, for that was precisely what it looked like. We glanced at it casually through our glasses. It was a sable buck lyingdown right out in the open. He was black and sleek, and we could makeout his sweeping scimitar horns. 

Memba Sasa and the Swahili dropped flat on their faces while F. And Icrawled slowly and cautiously through the mud until we had gained thecover of a shallow ravine that ran in the beast's general direction. Noting carefully a certain small thicket as landmark, we stooped andmoved as fast as we could down to that point of vantage. There wecautiously parted the grasses and looked. The sable had disappeared. Theplace where he had been lying was plainly to be identified, and therewas no cover save a tiny bush between two and three feet high. We werequite certain he had neither seen nor winded us. Either he had risenand fled forward into the ravine up which we had made our stalk, or elsehe had entered the small thicket. F. Agreed to stay on watch where hewas, while I slipped back and examined the earth to leeward of thethicket. 

I had hardly crawled ten yards, however, before the gentle snapping ofF. 's fingers recalled me to his side. 

"He's behind that bush, " he whispered in my ear. 

I looked. The bush was hardly large enough to conceal a setter dog, andthe sable is somewhat larger than our elk. Nevertheless F. Insisted thatthe animal was standing behind it, and that he had caught the toss ofits head. We lay still for some time, while the soft, warm rain drizzleddown on us, our eyes riveted on the bush. And then we caught themomentary flash of curved horns as the sable tossed his head. It seemedincredible even then that the tiny bush should conceal so large a beast. As a matter of fact we later found that the bush grew on a slightelevation, behind which was a depression. In this the sable stood, patiently enduring the drizzle. 

We waited some time in hopes he would move forward a foot or so; butapparently he had selected his loafing place with care, and liked it. The danger of a shift of wind was always present. Finally I slipped backover the brink of the ravine, moved three yards to the left, and crawledup through the tall dripping grass to a new position behind a littlebush. Cautiously raising my head, I found I could see plainly thesable's head and part of his shoulders. My position was cramped and outof balance for offhand shooting; but I did my best, and heard the loudplunk of the hit. The sable made off at a fast though rather awkwardgallop, wheeled for an instant a hundred yards farther on, receivedanother bullet in the shoulder, and disappeared over the brow of thehill. We raced over the top to get in another shot, and found him stonedead. 

He was a fine beast, jet-black in coat, with white markings on the face, red-brown ears, and horns sweeping up and back scimitar fashion. Hestood four feet and six inches at the shoulder, and his horns were thesecond best ever shot in British East Africa. This beast has beendescribed by Heller as a new subspecies, and named Rooseveltii. Hisdescription was based upon an immature buck and a doe shot by KermitRoosevelt. The determination of subspecies on so slight evidence seemsto me unscientific in the extreme. While the immature males do exhibitthe general brown tone relied on by Mr. Heller, the mature buck differsin no essential from the tropical sable. I find the alledged subspeciesis not accepted by European scientists. 

XI. 

A MARCH ALONG THE COAST. 

With a most comfortable feeling that my task was done, that suddenly thethreatening clouds of killing work had been cleared up, I was nowprivileged to loaf and invite my soul on this tropical green hilltopwhile poor F. Put in the days trying to find another sable. Everymorning he started out before daylight. I could see the light of hislantern outside the tent; and I stretched myself in the luxuriousconsciousness that I should hear no deprecating but insistent "hodie"from my boy until I pleased to invite it. In the afternoon or evening F. Would return, quite exhausted and dripping, with only the report of newcountry traversed. No sable; no tracks of sable; no old signs, even, ofsable. Gradually it was borne in on me how lucky I was to have come uponmy magnificent specimen so promptly and in such favourablecircumstances. 

A leisurely breakfast alone, with the sun climbing; then the writing ofnotes, a little reading, and perhaps a stroll to the village or alongthe top of the ridge. At the heat of noon a siesta with a cool cocoanutat my elbow. The view was beautiful on all sides; our great tree full ofbirds; the rising and dying winds in the palms like the gatheringoncoming rush of the rains. From mountain to mountain sounded the wild, far-carrying ululations of the natives, conveying news or messagesacross the wide jungle. Towards sunset I wandered out in the groves, enjoying the many bright flowers, the tall, sweet grasses, and thecocoa-palms against the sky. Piles of cocoanuts lay on the ground, covered each with a leaf plaited in a peculiarly individual manner toindicate ownership. Small boys, like little black imps, clung nakedhalf-way up the slim trunks of the palms, watching me bright-eyed abovethe undergrowth. In all directions, crossing and recrossing, ran a mazeof beaten paths. Each led somewhere, but it would require the memoryof--well, of a native, to keep all their destinations in mind. 

I used to follow some of them to their ending in little cocoa-leafhouses on the tops of knolls or beneath mangoes; and would talk with thepeople. They were very grave and very polite, and seemed to be livingout their lives quite correctly according to their conceptions. Again, it was borne in on me that these people are not stumbling along thecourse of evolution in our footsteps, but have gone as far in their pathas we have in ours; that they have reached at least as complete acorrespondence with their environment as we with our own. [4]

If F. Had not returned by the time I reached camp, I would seat myselfin my canvas chair, and thence dispense justice, advice, or medicaltreatment. If none of these things seemed demanded, I smoked my pipe. Tome one afternoon came a big-framed, old, dignified man, with the heavybeard, the noble features, the high forehead, and the blank statue eyesof the blind Homer. He was led by a very small, very bright-eyed nakedboy. At some twenty feet distance he squatted down cross-legged beforeme. For quite five minutes he sat there silent, while I sat in my campchair, smoked and waited. At last he spoke in a rolling deep bass voicerich and vibrating--a delight to hear. 

"Jambo (greeting)!" said he. 

"Jambo!" I replied mildly. 

Again a five-minute silence. I had begun reading, and had all butforgotten his presence. 

"Jambo bwana (greeting, master)!" he rolled out. 

"Jambo!" I repeated. 

The same dignified, unhasting pause. 

"Jambo bwana m'kubwa (greeting, great master)!"

"Jambo!" quoth I, and went on reading. The sun was dropping, but the oldman seemed in no hurry. 

"Jambo bwana m'kubwa sana (greeting, most mighty master)!" he boomed atlast. 

"Jambo!" said I. 

This would seem to strike the superlative, and I expected now that hewould state his business, but the old man had one more shot in hislocker. 

"Jambo bwana m'kubwa kabeesa sana (greeting, mightiest possiblemaster)!" it came. 

Then in due course he delicately hinted that a gift of tobacco would notcome amiss. 

F. Returned a trifle earlier than usual, to admit that his quest washopeless, that his physical forces were for the time being at an end, and that he was willing to go home. 

Accordingly very early next morning we set out by the glimmer of alantern, hoping to get a good start on our journey before the heat ofthe day became too severe. We did gain something, but performed severalunnecessary loops and semicircles in the maze of beaten paths before wefinally struck into one that led down the slope towards the sea. Shortlyafter the dawn came up "like thunder" in its swiftness, followed almostimmediately by the sun. 

Our way now led along the wide flat between the seashore and the ShimbaHills, in which we had been hunting. A road ten feet wide and innocentof wheels ran with obstinate directness up and down the slight contoursand through the bushes and cocoanut groves that lay in its path. Somathematically straight was it that only when perspective closed it in, or when it dropped over the summit of a little rise, did the eye losethe effect of its interminability. The country through which this roadled was various--open bushy veld with sparse trees, dense jungle, cocoanut groves, tall and cool. In the shadows of the latter were thethatched native villages. To the left always ran the blue Shimba Hills;and far away to the right somewhere we heard the grumbling of the sea. 

Every hundred yards or so we met somebody. Even thus early the road wasthronged. By far the majority were the almost naked natives of thedistrict, pleasant, brown-skinned people with good features. Theycarried things. These things varied from great loads balanced atop todainty impromptu baskets woven of cocoa-leaves and containing each asingle cocoanut. They smiled on us, returned our greeting, and stoodcompletely aside to let us pass. Other wayfarers were of moreimportance. Small groups of bearded dignitaries, either upper-classSwahili or pure Arabs, strolled slowly along, apparently with limitlessleisure, but evidently bound somewhere, nevertheless. They replied toour greetings with great dignity. Once, also, we overtook a smalldetachment of Sudanese troops moving. They were scattered over severalmiles of road. A soldier, most impressive and neat in khaki and redtarboosh and sash; then two or three of his laughing, sleek women, cladin the thin, patterned "'Mericani, " glittering with gold ornaments; thena half dozen ragged porters carrying official but battered paintedwooden kit boxes, or bags, or miscellaneous curious plunder; then moretroopers; and so on for miles. They all drew aside for us mostrespectfully; and the soldiers saluted, very smart and military. 

Under the broad-spreading mangoes near the villages we came upon manyopen markets in full swing. Each vendor squatted on his heels behind hiswares, while the purchasers or traders wandered here and there makingoffers. The actual commerce compared with the amount of laughing, joking, shrieking joy of the occasion as one to a thousand. 

Generally three or four degenerate looking dirty East Indians slunkabout, very crafty, very insinuating, very ready and skilful to takewhat advantages they could. I felt a strong desire to kick every one ofthem out from these joyful concourses of happy people. Generally we satdown for a while in these markets, and talked to the people a little, and perhaps purchased some of the delicious fruit. They had a smalldelicate variety of banana, most wonderful, the like of which I haveseen nowhere else. We bought forty of these for a coin worth about eightcents. Besides fruit they offered cocoanuts in all forms, grain, wovenbaskets, small articles of handicraft--and fish. The latter were fartherfrom the sea than they should have been! These occasional halts greatlyrefreshed us for more of that endless road. 

For all this time we were very hot. As the sun mounted, the countryfairly steamed. From the end of my rifle barrel, which I carried acrossmy forearm, a steady trickle of water dripped into the road. We neitherof us had a dry stitch on us, and our light garments clung to usthoroughly wet through. At first we tried the military method, andmarched fifty minutes to rest ten, but soon discovered that twenty-fiveminutes' work to five minutes off was more practical. The sheer weightof the sun was terrific; after we had been exposed to it for any greatlength of time--as across several wide open spaces--we entered thesteaming shade of the jungle with gratitude. At the end of seven hours, however, we most unexpectedly came through a dense cocoanut grove plumpon the banks of the harbour at Kilindini. 

Here, after making arrangements for the transport of our safari, when itshould arrive, we entrusted ourselves to a small boy and a cranky boat. An hour later, clad in tropical white, with cool drinks at our elbows, we sat in easy-chairs on the veranda of the Mombasa Club. 

The clubhouse is built on a low cliff at the water's edge. It looksacross the blue waters of the bay to a headland crowned withcocoa-palms, and beyond the headland to the Indian Ocean. The cooltrades sweep across that veranda. We idly watched a lone white oarsmanpulling strongly against the wind through the tide rips, evidently benton exercise. We speculated on the incredible folly of wanting exercise;and forgot him. An hour later a huge saffron yellow squall rose fromChina 'cross the way, filled the world with an unholy light, lashed thereluctant sea to white-caps, and swooped screaming on the cocoa-palms. Police boats to rescue the idiot oarsman! Much minor excitement! Greatrushing to and fro! We continued to sit in our lounging chairs, one handon our cool long drinks. 

FOOTNOTES:

[4] For a fuller discussion, see "The Land of Footprints. "

XII. 

THE FIRE. 

We were very tired, so we turned in early. W Unfortunately, our roomswere immediately over the billiard room, where a bibulous andcosmopolitan lot were earnestly endeavouring to bolster up by furtherproof the fiction that a white man cannot retain his health in thetropics. The process was pretty rackety, and while it could not keep usawake, it prevented us from falling thoroughly asleep. At length, andsuddenly, the props of noise fell away from me, and I sank into agrateful, profound abyss. 

Almost at once, however, I was dragged back to consciousness. Mohammedstood at my bedside. 

"Bwana, " he proffered to my rather angry inquiry, "all the people havegone to the fire. It is a very large fire. I thought you would like tosee it. "

I glanced out of the window at the reddening sky, thrust my feet into apair of slippers, and went forth in my pyjamas to see what I could see. 

We threaded our way through many narrow dark and deserted streets, beneath balconies that overhung, past walls over which nodded tuftedpalms, until a loud and increasing murmuring told us we were nearing thecentre of disturbance. Shortly, we came to the outskirts of the excitedcrowd, and beyond them saw the red furnace glow. 

"Semeelay! Semeelay!" warned Mohammed authoritatively; and thebystanders, seeing a white face, gave me passage. 

All of picturesque Mombasa was afoot--Arabs, Swahilis, Somalis, savages, Indians--the whole lot. They moved restlessly in the narrow streets;they hung over the edges of balconies; they peered from barred windows;interested dark faces turned up everywhere in the flickering light. Onewoman, a fine, erect, biblical figure, stood silhouetted on a flathousetop and screamed steadily. I thought she must have at least onebaby in the fire, but it seems she was only excited. 

The fire was at present confined to two buildings, in which it wasraging fiercely. Its spread, however, seemed certain; and, as it wassurrounded by warehouses of valuable goods, moving was in full swing. Afrantic white man stood at the low doorway of one of these dungeon-likestores hastening the movements of an unending string of porters. As eachemerged bearing a case on his shoulder, the white man urged him to atrot. I followed up the street to see where these valuables were beingtaken, and what were the precautions against theft. Around the nextcorner, it seemed. As each excited perspiring porter trotted up, heheaved his burden from his head or his shoulders, and promptly scamperedback for another load. They were loyal and zealous men; but theirheadpieces were deficient inside. For the burdens that they saved fromthe fire happened to be cases of gin in bottles. At least, it was inbottles until the process of saving had been completed. Then it trickledmerrily down the gutter. I went back and told the frantic white manabout it. He threw up both hands to heaven and departed. 

By dodging from street to street Mohammed and I succeeded in circlingthe whole disturbance, and so came at length to a public square. Herewas a vast throng, and a very good place, so I climbed atop a rescuedbale of cotton the better to see. 

Mombasa has no water system, but a wonderful corps of water-carriers. These were in requisition to a man. They disappeared down through thewide gates of the customs enclosure, their naked, muscular, light-brownbodies gleaming with sweat, their Standard Oil cans dangling merrily atthe ends of slender poles. A moment later they emerged, the cans full ofsalt water from the bay, the poles seeming fairly to butt into theirbare shoulders as they teetered along at their rapid, swaying, burdenedgait. 

The moment they entered the square they were seized upon from a dozendifferent sides. There was no system at all. Every owner of property wasout for himself, and intended to get as much of the precious water as hecould. The poor carriers were pulled about, jerked violently here andthere, besought, commanded, to bring their loads to one or the other ofthe threatened premises. Vociferations, accusations, commands arose toscreams. One old graybeard occupied himself by standing on tiptoe andscreeching, "Maji! maji! maji!" at the top of his voice, as though thatadded anything to the visible supply. The water-carrier of the momentdisappeared in a swirl of excited contestants. He was attending strictlyto business, looking neither to right nor to left, pushing forward assteadily as he could, gasping mechanically his customary warning, "Semeelay! Semeelay!" Somehow, eventually, he and his comrades must havegot somewhere; for after an interval he returned with empty buckets. Then every blessed fool of a property owner took a whack at his bareshoulders as he passed, shrieking hysterically, "Haya! haya! pesi!pesi!" and the like to men already doing their best. It was a grandsight!

In the meantime the fire itself was roaring away. The old graybeardsuddenly ceased crying "maji, " and darted forward to where I stood onthe bale of cotton. With great but somewhat flurried respect he beggedme to descend. I did so, somewhat curious as to what he might be up to, for the cotton was at least two hundred feet from the fire. Immediatelyhe began to tug and heave; the bale was almost beyond his strength; butafter incredible exertions he lifted one side of it, poised it for amoment, got his shoulder under it, and rolled it over once. Then hedarted away and resumed his raucous cry for water. I climbed back again. Thrice more, at intervals, he repeated this performance. The only resultwas to daub with mud every possible side of that bale. I hope it was hisproperty. 

You must remember that I was observing the heavy artillery of the attackon the conflagration. Individual campaigns were everywhere in progress. I saw one man standing on the roof of a threatened building. He loweredslowly, hand over hand, a small tea-kettle at the end of a string. Thiswas filled by a friend in the street, whereupon the man hauled it upagain, slowly, hand over hand, and solemnly dashed its contents into themouth of the furnace. Thousands of other men on roofs, in balconies, onthe street, were doing the same thing. Some had ordinary cups which theyfilled a block away! The limit of efficiency was a pail. Nobody didanything in concert with anybody else. The sight of these thousands oflittle midgets each with his teacup, or his teapot, or his tin pail, throwing each his mite of water--for which he had to walk a street orso--into the ravening roaring furnace of flame was as pathetic or ascomical as you please. They did not seem to have a show in the world. 

Nevertheless, to my vast surprise, the old system of the East triumphedat last. The system of the East is that if you get _enough_ labour youcan accomplish anything. Little by little those thousands of tea kettlesof water had their aggregate effect. The flames fed themselves out anddied down leaving the contiguous buildings unharmed save for a littlescorching. In two hours all was safe, and I returned to the hotel, having enjoyed myself hugely. I had, however, in the interest andexcitement, forgotten how deadly is the fever of Mombasa. Midnight inpyjamas did the business; and shortly I paid well for the fun. 

PART III. 

NAIROBI. 

XIII. 

UP FROM THE COAST. 

Nairobi is situated at the far edge of the great Athi Plains and justbelow a range of hills. It might about as well have been anywhere else, and perhaps better a few miles back in the higher country. Whether thefunny little narrow-gauge railroad exists for Nairobi, or Nairobi forthe railroad, it would be difficult to say. Between Mombasa and thisinterior placed-to-order town, certainly, there is nothing, absolutelynothing, either in passengers or freight, to justify building the line. That distance is, if I remember it correctly, about three hundred andtwenty miles. A dozen or so names of stations appear on the map. Theseare water tanks, telegraph stations, or small groups of tents in whichdwell black labourers--on the railroad. 

The way climbs out from the tropical steaming coast belt to and acrossthe high scrub desert, and then through lower rounded hills to theplains. On the desert is only dense thorn brush--and a possibility thatthe newcomer, if he looks very closely, may to his excitement see hisfirst game in Africa. This is a stray duiker or so, tiny grass antelopesa foot high. Also in this land is thirst; so that alongside thelocomotives, as they struggle up grade, in bad seasons, run natives tocatch precious drops. [5] An impalpable red dust sifts through and intoeverything. When a man descends at Voi for dinner he finds hisfellow-travellers have changed complexion. The pale clerk from indoorMombasa has put on a fine healthy sunburn; and the company in generalpresent a rich out-of-doors bloom. A chance dab with a white napkincomes away like fresh paint, however. 

You clamber back into the compartment, with its latticed sun shades andits smoked glass windows; you let down the narrow canvas bunk; youunfold your rug, and settle yourself for repose. It is a difficultmatter. Everything you touch is gritty. The air is close and stifling, like the smoke-charged air of a tunnel. If you try to open a window youare suffocated with more of the red dust. At last you fall into a doze;to awaken nearly frozen! The train has climbed into what is, after weeksof the tropics, comparative cold; and if you have not been warned tocarry wraps, you are in danger of pneumonia. 

The gray dawn comes, and shortly, in the sudden tropical fashion, thefull light. You look out on a wide smiling grass country, with dips andswales, and brushy river bottoms, and long slopes and hills thrusting upin masses from down below the horizon, and singly here and there in theimmensities nearer at hand. The train winds and doubles on itself up thegentle slopes and across the imperceptibly rising plains. But theinterest is not in these wide prospects, beautiful and smiling as theymay be, but in the game. It is everywhere. Far in the distance the herdstwinkle, half guessed in the shimmer of the bottom lands or dotting thesides of the hills. Nearer at hand it stares as the train rumbles andsways laboriously past. Occasionally it even becomes necessary towhistle aside some impertinent kongoni that has placed himself betweenthe metals! The newcomer has but a theoretical knowledge at best of allthese animals; and he is intensely interested in identifying the variousspecies. The hartebeeste and the wildebeeste he learns quickly enough, and of course the zebra and the giraffe are unmistakable; but thesmaller gazelles are legitimate subjects for discussion. The wonder ofthe extraordinary abundance of these wild animals mounts as the hoursslip by. At the stops for water or for orders the passengers gather fromtheir different compartments to detail excitedly to each other what theyhave seen. There is always an honest superenthusiast who believes he hasseen rhinoceroses, lions, or leopards. He is looked upon with envy bythe credulous, and with exasperation by all others. 

So the little train puffs and tugs along. Suddenly it happens on abarbed wire fence, and immediately after enters the town of Nairobi. Thegame has persisted right up to that barbed wire fence. 

The station platform is thronged with a heterogeneous multitude ofpeople. The hands of a dozen raggetty black boys are stretched out forluggage. The newcomer sees with delight a savage with a tin can in hisstretched ear lobe; another with a set of wooden skewers set fanwisearound the edge of the ear; he catches a glimpse of a beautiful nakedcreature very proud, very decorated with beads and heavy polished wire. Then he is ravished away by the friend, or agent, or hotelrepresentative who has met him, and hurried out through the gatesbetween the impassive and dignified Sikh sentries to the cab. I believenobody but the newcomer ever rides in the cab; and then but once, fromthe station to the hotel. After that he uses rickshaws. In fact it isprobable that the cab is maintained for the sole purpose of giving thenewcomer a grand and impressive entrance. This brief fleeting quarterhour of glory is unique and passes. It is like crossing the Line, or thefirst kiss, something that in its nature cannot be repeated. 

The cab was once a noble vehicle, compounded of opulent curves, with avery high driver's box in front, a little let-down bench, and a deep, luxurious, shell-shaped back seat, reclining in which one received theadulation of the populace. That was in its youth. Now in its age thevarnish is gone; the upholstery of the back seat frayed; the upholsteryof the small seat lacking utterly, so that one sits on bare boards. Inplace of two dignifiedly spirited fat white horses, it is drawn by twovery small mules in a semi-detached position far ahead. And how itrattles!

Between the station and the hotel at Nairobi is a long straight widewell-made street, nearly a mile long, and bordered by a double row ofyoung eucalyptus. These latter have changed the main street of Nairobifrom the sunbaked array of galvanized houses described by travellers ofa half dozen years back to a thoroughfare of great charm. The ironhouses and stores are now in a shaded background; and the attention isfreed to concentrate on the vivid colouring, the incessant movement, thegreat interest of the people moving to and fro. When I left Nairobi theauthorities were considering the removal of these trees, because one rowof them had been planted slightly within the legal limits of the street. What they could interfere with in a practically horseless town I cannotimagine, but I trust this stupidity gave way to second thought. 

The cab rattles and careers up the length of the street, scatteringrickshaws and pedestrians from before its triumphant path. To the leftopens a wide street of little booths under iron awnings, hung with gaycolour and glittering things. The street is thronged from side to sidewith natives of all sorts. It whirls past, and shortly after the cabdashes inside a fence and draws up before the low stone-built, wide-verandahed hotel. 

FOOTNOTES:

[5] The Government does much nowadays by means of tank cars. 

XIV. 

A TOWN OF CONTRASTS. 

It has been, as I have said, the fashion to speak of Nairobi as an uglylittle town. This was probably true when the first corrugated ironhouses huddled unrelieved near the railway station. It is not true now. The lower part of town is well planted, and is always picturesque aslong as its people are astir. The white population have built in thewooded hills some charming bungalows surrounded by bright flowers orlost amid the trunks of great trees. From the heights on which isGovernment House one can, with a glass, watch the game herds feeding onthe plains. Two clubs, with the usual games of golf, polo, tennis--especially tennis--football and cricket; a weekly hunt, withjackals instead of foxes; a bungalow town club on the slope of a hill;an electric light system; a race track; a rifle range; frilly parasolsand the latest fluffiest summer toilettes from London and Paris--Imention a few of the refinements of civilization that offer to thetraveller some of the most piquant of contrasts. 

For it must not be forgotten that Nairobi, in spite of these things--dueto the direct but slender thread of communication by railroad andships--is actually in the middle of an African wilderness--is a blackman's town, as far as numbers go. [6]

The game feeds to its very outskirts, even wanders into the streets atnight. [7] Lions may be heard roaring within a mile or so of town; andleopards occasionally at night come on the verandas of the outlyingdwellings. Naked savages from the jungle untouched by civilization ineven the minutest particular wander the streets unabashed. 

It is this constantly recurring, sharply drawn contrast that givesNairobi its piquant charm. As one sits on the broad hotel veranda aconstantly varied pageant passes before him. A daintily dressed, fresh-faced Englishwoman bobs by in a smart rickshaw drawn by twouniformed runners; a Kikuyu, anointed, curled, naked, brass adorned, teeters along, an expression of satisfaction on his face; a horseman, well appointed, trots briskly by followed by his loping syce; a stringof skin-clad women, their heads fantastically shaved, heavilyornamented, lean forward under the burden of firewood for the market; abeautiful baby in a frilled perambulator is propelled by a tall, solemn, fine-looking black man in white robe and cap; the driver of a high carttools his animal past a creaking, clumsy, two-wheeled wagon drawn by apair of small humpbacked native oxen. And so it goes, all day long, without end. The public rickshaw boys just across the way chatter andgame and quarrel and keep a watchful eye out for a possible patron onwhom to charge vociferously and full tilt. Two or three old-timers withwhite whiskers and red faces continue to slaughter thousands andthousands and thousands of lions from the depths of their easy chairs. 

The stone veranda of that hotel is a very interesting place. Here gathermen from all parts of East Africa, from Uganda, and the jungles of theUpper Congo. At one time or another all the famous hunters drop into itscanvas chairs--Cunninghame, Allan Black, Judd, Outram, Hoey, and theothers; white traders with the natives of distant lands; owners of farmsexperimenting bravely on a greater or lesser scale in a land whosedifficulties are just beginning to be understood; great naturalists andscientists from the governments of the earth, eager to observe andcollect this interesting and teeming fauna; and sportsmen just out andfull of interest, or just returned and modestly important. Moreabsorbing conversation can be listened to on this veranda than in anyother one place in the world. The gathering is cosmopolitan; it isrepresentative of the most active of every social, political, and racialelement; it has done things; it contemplates vital problems from thevantage ground of experience. The talk veers from pole to pole--andreturns always to lions. 

Every little while a native--a raw savage--comes along and takes up astand just outside the railing. He stands there mute and patient forfive minutes--a half hour--until some one, any one, happens to noticehim. 

"N'jo!--come here!" commands this person. 

The savage silently proffers a bit of paper on which is written the nameof the one with whom he has business. 

"Nenda officie!" indicates the charitable person waving his handtowards the hotel office. 

Then, and not until this permission has been given by some one, daresthe savage cross the threshold to do his errand. 

If the messenger happens to be a trained houseboy, however, dressed inhis uniform of khaki or his more picturesque white robe and cap, he isprivileged to work out his own salvation. And behind the hotel are rowsand rows of other boys, each waiting patiently the pleasure of hisespecial bwana lounging at ease after strenuous days. At the drawlingshout of "boy!" one of them instantly departs to find out whichparticular boy is wanted. 

The moment any white man walks to the edge of the veranda a half-dozenof the rickshaws across the street career madly around the corners ofthe fence, bumping, colliding, careening dangerously, to dropbeseechingly in serried confusion close around the step. The rickshawhabit is very strong in Nairobi. If a man wants to go a hundred yardsdown the street he takes a rickshaw for that stupendous journey. Thereis in justification the legend that the white man should not exerthimself in the tropics. I fell into the custom of the country until Ireflected that it would hardly be more fatal to me to walk a half-hourin the streets of Nairobi than to march six or seven hours--as I oftendid--when on safari or in the hunting field. After that I got a littleexercise, to the vast scandal of the rickshaw boys. In fact, so unusualwas my performance that at first I had fairly to clear myself a way withmy kiboko. After a few experiences they concluded me a particularlycrazy person and let me alone. 

Rickshaws, however, are very efficient and very cheap. The runners, twoin number, are lithe little round-headed Kavirondos, generally, theirheads shaved to leave a skull cap, clad in scant ragged garments, andwearing each an anklet of little bells. Their passion for ornament theyconfine to small bright things in their hair and ears. They run easily, with a very long stride. Even steep hills they struggle up somehow, zigzagging from one side of the road to the other, edging along an inchor so at a time. In such places I should infinitely have preferred tohave walked, but that would have lost me caste everywhere. There arelimits even to a crazy man's idiosyncrasies. For that reason I neverthoroughly enjoyed rickshaws, save along the level ways with bellsjingling and feet patpatting a rapid time. Certainly I did not enjoythem going down the steep hills. The boy between the shafts in fronthits the landscape about every forty feet. I do not really object tosudden death, but this form of it seemed unfair to some poor hungrylion. 

However, the winding smooth roads among the forested, shaded bungalowsof the upper part of town were very attractive, especially towardsevening. At that time the universal sun-helmet or double terai could belaid aside for straw hats, cloth caps, or bare heads. People played themore violent games, or strolled idly. At the hotel there was now a gooddeal of foolish drinking; foolish, because in this climate it is verybad for the human system, and in these surroundings of much interest andexcitement the relief of its exaltation from monotony or ennui orroutine could hardly be required. 

FOOTNOTES:

[6] Fifteen hundred whites to twelve thousand natives, approximately. 

[7] This happened twice while I was in the country. 

XV. 

PEOPLE. 

Considered as a class rather than as individuals, the dark-skinnedpopulation is easily the more interesting. Considered as individuals, the converse is true. Men like Sir Percy Girouard, Hobley, Jackson, LordDelamere, McMillan, Cunninghame, Allan Black, Leslie Tarleton, Vanderweyer, the Hill cousins, Horne, and a dozen others are nowhereelse to be met in so small a community. But the whites have developednothing in their relations one to another essentially different. Theartisan and shopkeeping class dwell on the flats; the Government peopleand those of military connections live on the heights on one side of thelittle stream; the civil service and bigger business men among the hillson the other. Between them all is a little jealousy, and contempt, andcondescension; just as there is jealousy, and contempt, andcondescension elsewhere. They are pleasant people, and hospitable, andsome of them very distinguished in position or achievement; and I amglad to say I have good friends among them. 

But the native is the joy, and the never-ceasing delight. For hisbenefit is the wide, glittering, colourful, insanitary bazaar, with itsdozens of little open-air veranda shops, its "hotels" where he can sitin a real chair and drink real tea, its cafes, and the dark mysteries ofits more doubtful amusements. The bazaar is right in the middle of town, just where it ought not to be, and it is constantly being quarantined, and threatened with removal. It houses a large population mysteriously, for it is of slight extent. Then on the borders of town are the twogreat native villages--one belonging to the Somalis, and the otherhospitably accommodating the swarms of caravan porters and theirfamilies. For, just as in old days Mombasa and Zanzibar used to be thepoints from which caravans into the interior would set forth, nowNairobi outfits the majority of expeditions. Probably ten thousandpicked natives of various tribes are engaged in the profession. Ofcourse but a small proportion of this number is ever at home at any onetime; but the village is a large one. Both these villages are built inthe native style, of plaster and thatch; have their own headmangovernment--under supervision--and are kept pretty well swept out andtidy. Besides these three main gathering places are many camps and"shambas"[8] scattered everywhere; and the back country counts millionsof raw jungle savages, only too glad to drift in occasionally for a lookat the metropolis. 

At first the newcomer is absolutely bewildered by the variety of thesepeoples; but after a little he learns to differentiate. The Somalis areperhaps the first recognizable, with their finely chiselled, intelligent, delicate brown features, their slender forms, and theirstrikingly picturesque costumes of turbans, flowing robes, andembroidered sleeveless jackets. Then he learns to distinguish the savagefrom the sophisticated dweller of the town. Later comes theidentification of the numerous tribes. 

The savage comes in just as he has been for, ethnologists alone canguess, how many thousands of years. He is too old an institution to havebeen affected as yet by this tiny spot of modernity in the middle of thewilderness. As a consequence he startles the newcomer even more thanthe sight of giraffes on the sky-line. 

When the shenzi--wild man--comes to town he gathers in two or three ofhis companions, and presents himself as follows: His hair has been grownquite long, then gathered in three tight pigtails wound with leather, one of which hangs over his forehead, and the other two over his ears. The entire head he has then anointed with a mixture of castor oil and abright red colouring earth. This is wiped away evenly all around theface, about two inches below the hair, to leave a broad, bandlikeglistening effect around the entire head. The ears are most marvellous. From early youth the lobes have been stretched, until at last they havebecome like two long elastic loops, hanging down upon the shoulder, andcapable of accommodating anything up to and including a tomato can. Whenin fatigue uniform these loops are caught up over the tops of the ears, but on dress parade they accommodate almost anything consideredornamental. I have seen a row of safety pins clasped in them or a numberof curtain rings; or a marmalade jar, or the glittering cover of atobacco tin. The edges of the ears, all around to the top, are thenpierced. Then the insertion of a row of long white wooden skewers givesone a peculiarly porcupinish look; or a row of little brass danglershints of wealth. Having thus finished off his head, your savage claspsaround his neck various strings of beads; or collars of iron or copperwire, polished to the point of glitter; puts on a half-dozen armlets andleglets of the same; ties on a narrow bead belt, in which is thrust ashort sword; anoints himself all over with reddened castor oil until heglistens and shines in the sun; rubs his legs with white clay and tracespatterns therein; seizes his long-bladed spear, and is ready for thecity. Oh, no! I forgot--and he probably came near doing so--his strip of'Mericani. [9] This was originally white, but constant wear over castoroil has turned it a uniform and beautiful brown. 

The purpose of this is ornament, and it is so worn. There has been anattempt, I understand, to force these innocent children to some sort ofconventional decency while actually in the streets of Nairobi. It wastoo large an order. Some bring in clothes, to be sure, because the whiteman asks it; but why no sensible man could say. They are hung from oneshoulder, flap merrily in the breeze, and are always quite franklytucked up about the neck or under the arms when the wearer happens to bein haste. As a matter of fact these savages are so beautifully andsmoothly formed; their red-brown or chocolate-brown skin is so fine intexture, and their complete unconsciousness so genuine that in an hourthe newcomer is quite accustomed to their nakedness. 

These proud youths wander mincingly down the street with an expressionof the most fatuous and good-natured satisfaction with themselves. Totheir minds they have evidently done every last thing that humaningenuity or convention could encompass. 

These young men are the dandies, the proud young aristocracy of wealthand importance; and of course they may differ individually or triballyfrom the sample I have offered. Also there are many other social grades. Those who care less for dress or have less to get it with can rub alongvery cheaply. The only real essentials are (_a_) something for theear--a tomato can will do; (_b_) a trifle for clothing--and for that ascrap of gunny sacking will be quite enough. 

The women to be seen in the streets of Nairobi are mostly of the Kikuyutribe. They are pretty much of a pattern. Their heads are shaven, either completely or to leave only ornamental tufts; and are generallybound with a fine wire fillet so tightly that the strands seem to sinkinto the flesh. A piece of cotton cloth, dyed dark umber red, is beltedaround the waist, and sometimes, but not always, another is thrown aboutthe shoulder. They go in for more hardware than do the men. The entirearms and the calves of the legs are encased in a sort of armour made ofquarter-inch wire wound closely, and a collar of the same materialstands out like a ruff eight or ten inches around the neck. This iswound on for good; and must be worn day and night and all the time, acumbersome and tremendously heavy burden. A dozen large loops ofcoloured beads strung through the ears, and various strings andnecklaces of beads, cowrie shells, and the like finish them out in alltheir gorgeousness. They would sink like plummets. Their job in life, besides lugging all this stuff about, is to carry in firewood andforage. At any time of the day long files of them can be seen bendingforward under their burdens. These they carry on their backs by means ofa strap across the tops of their heads; after the fashion of theCanadian tump line. 

The next cut above the shenzi, or wild man, is the individual who hasbeen on safari as carrier, or has otherwise been much employed aroundwhite men. From this experience he has acquired articles of apparel andpoints of view. He is given to ragged khaki, or cast-off garments of allsorts, but never to shoes. This hint of the conventional only serves toaccent the little self-satisfied excursions he makes into barbarism. Theshirt is always worn outside, the ear ornaments are as varied as ever, the head is shaved in strange patterns, a tiny tight tuft on the crownis useful as fastening for feathers or little streamers or anything elsethat will wave or glitter. One of these individuals wore a red label hehad, with patience and difficulty, removed from one of our trunks. Hehad pasted it on his forehead; and it read "Baggage Room. Not Wanted. "These people are, after all, but modified shenzis. The modification isnearly always in the direction of the comic. 

Now we step up to a class that would resent being called shenzis as itwould resent an insult. This is the personal servant class. The membersare of all tribes, with possibly a slight preponderance of Swahilis andSomalis. They are a very clean, well-groomed, self-respecting class, with a great deal of dignity, and a great deal of pride in theirbwanas. Also they are exceedingly likely to degenerate unless ruled witha firm hand and a wise head. Very rarely are they dishonest as respectsthe possessions of their own masters. They understand their workperfectly, and the best of them get the equivalent of from eight to tendollars a month. Every white individual has one or more of them; eventhe tiny children with their ridiculous little sun helmets are followedeverywhere by a tall, solemn, white-robed black. Their powers ofdivination approach the uncanny. About the time you begin to think ofwanting something, and are making a first helpless survey of a boylesslandscape, your own servant suddenly, mysteriously, and unobtrusivelyappears from nowhere. Where he keeps himself, where he feeds himself, where he sleeps you do not know. These beautifully clean, trim, dignified people are always a pleasant feature in the varied picture. 

The Somalis are a clan by themselves. A few of them condescend todomestic service, but the most prefer the free life of traders, horsedealers, gunbearers, camel drivers, labour go-betweens, and similarguerrilla occupations. They are handsome, dashing, proud, treacherous, courageous, likeable, untrustworthy. They career around on their high, short-stirruped saddles; they saunter indolently in small groups; theyhang about the hotel hoping for a dicker of some kind. There is nothingof the savage about them, but much of the true barbarism, with thebarbarian's pride, treachery, and love of colour. 

FOOTNOTES:

[8] Native farmlets, generally temporary. 

[9] White cotton cloth. 

XVI. 

RECRUITING. 

To the traveller Nairobi is most interesting as the point from whichexpeditions start and to which they return. Doubtless an extended stayin the country would show him that problems of administration andpossibilities of development could be even more absorbing; but suchthings are very sketchy to him at first. 

As a usual thing, when he wants porters he picks them out from thethrong hanging around the big outfitters' establishments. Each man isthen given a blanket--cotton, but of a most satisfying red--a tin waterbottle, a short stout cord, and a navy blue jersey. After that ceremonyhe is yours. 

But on the occasion of one three months' journey into comparativelyunknown country we ran up against difficulties. Some two weeks beforeour contemplated start two or three cases of bubonic plague had beendiscovered in the bazaar, and as a consequence Nairobi was quarantined. This meant that a rope had been stretched around the infected area, thatthe shops had been closed, and that no native could--officially--leaveNairobi. The latter provision affected us; for under it we should beunable to get our bearers out. 

As a matter of fact, the whole performance--unofficially--was a farce. Natives conversed affably at arm's length across the ropes; hundredssneaked in and out of town at will; and from the rear of the infectedarea I personally saw beds, chests, household goods, blankets, andclothes passed to friends outside the ropes. When this latter conditionwas reported, in my presence, to the medical officers, they replied thatthis was a matter for police cognizance! But the brave outward show ofropes, disinfectants, gorgeous sentries--in front--and officialinspection went solemnly on. Great, even in Africa, is the god of redtape. 

Our only possible plan, in the circumstances, was to recruit the menoutside the town, to camp them somewhere, march them across country to away station, and there embark them. Our goods and safari stores wecould then ship out to them by train. 

Accordingly we rode on bicycles out to the Swahili village. 

This is, as I have said, composed of large "beehive" houses thatchedconically with straw. The roofs extend to form verandas beneath whichsit indolent damsels, their hair divided in innumerable tiny partsrunning fore and aft like the stripes on a water melon; their figured'Mericani garments draped gracefully. As befitted the women ofplutocrats, they wore much jewellery, some of it set in their noses. Most of them did all of nothing, but some sat half buried in narrowstrips of bright-coloured tissue paper. These they were pasting togetherlike rolls of tape, the coloured edges of the paper forming concentricpatterns on the resultant discs--an infinite labour. The discs, whencompleted, were for insertion in the lobes of the ears. 

When we arrived the irregular "streets" of the village were nearlyempty, save for a few elegant youths, in long kanzuas, or robes ofcinnamon colour and spotless white, on their heads fezzes or turbans, intheir hands slender rattan canes. They were very busy talking to eachother, and of course did not notice the idle beauties beneath theverandas. 

Hardly had we appeared, however, when mysteriously came forth theheadman--a bearded, solemn, Arab-like person with a phenomenally uglyface but a most pleasing smile. We told him we wanted porters. Heclapped his hands. To the four young men who answered this summons hegave a command. From sleepy indolence they sprang into life. To the fourcardinal points of the compass they darted away, running up and down theside streets, beating on the doors, screaming at the tops of their lungsthe word "Cazi"[10] over and over again. 

The village hummed like a wasps' nest. Men poured from the huts inswarms. The streets were filled; the idle sauntering youths wereswamped, and sunk from view. Clamour and shouting arose where before hadbeen a droning silence. The mob beat up to where we stood, surroundingus, shouting at us. From somewhere some one brought an old table and twodecrepit chairs, battered and rickety in themselves, but symbols ofgreat authority in a community where nobody habitually used either. Twonaked boys proudly took charge of our bicycles. 

We seated ourselves. 

"Fall in!" we yelled. 

About half the crowd fell into rough lines. The rest drew slightly toone side. Nobody stopped talking for a single instant. 

We arose and tackled our job. The first part of it was to segregate theapplicants into their different tribes. 

"Monumwezi hapa!" we yelled; and the command was repeated and repeatedagain by the headman, by his four personal assistants, by a half-dozenlesser headmen. Slowly the Monumwezi drew aside. We impressed on thememphatically they must stay thus, and went after, in turn, the Baganda, the Wakamba, the Swahilis, the Kavirondo, the Kikuyu. When we had themgrouped, we went over them individually. We punched their chests, we ranover all their joints, we examined their feet, we felt their muscles. Our victims stood rigidly at inspection, but their numerous friendssurrounded us closely, urging the claims of the man to our notice. Itwas rather confusing, but we tried to go at it as though we were alonein a wilderness. If the man passed muster we motioned him to a rapidlygrowing group. 

When we had finished we had about sixty men segregated. Then we wentover this picked lot again. This time we tried not only to get goodspecimens, but to mix our tribes. At last our count of twenty-nine wasmade up, and we took a deep breath. But to us came one of themcomplaining that he was a Monumwezi, and that we had picked only threeMonumwezi, and--We cut him short. His contention was quite correct. Aporter tent holds five, and it does not do to mix tribes. Reorganization! Cut out two extra Kavirondos, and include two moreMonumwezi. "Bass! finished! Now go get your effects. We startimmediately. "

As quickly as it had filled, the street cleared. The rejected dived backinto their huts, the newly enlisted carriers went to collect theirbaggage. Only remained the headman and his fierce-faced assistants, andthe splendid youths idling up and down--none of them had volunteered, you may be sure--and the damsels of leisure beneath the porticos. Alsoone engaging and peculiar figure hovering near. 

This individual had been particularly busy during our recruiting. He hadhustled the men into line, he had advised us for or against differentcandidates, he had loudly sung my praises as a man to work for, although, of course, he knew nothing about me. Now he approached, saluted, smiled. He was a tall, slenderly-built person, withphenomenally long, thin legs, slightly rounded shoulders, a forwardthrust, keen face, and remarkably long, slim hands. With these hegesticulated much, in a right-angled fashion, after the manner ofEgyptian hieroglyphical figures. He was in no manner shenzi. He wore afez, a neat khaki coat and shorts, blue puttees and boots. Also a beltwith leather pockets, a bunch of keys, a wrist watch, and a seal ring. His air was of great elegance and social ease. We took him with us asC. 's gunbearer. He proved staunch, a good tracker, an excellent hunter, and a most engaging individual. His name was Kongoni, and he was aWakamba. 

But now we were confronted with a new problem: that of getting ourtwenty-nine chosen ones together again. They had totally disappeared. Inall directions we had emissaries beating up the laggards. As each manreappeared carrying his little bundle, we lined him up with hiscompanions. Then when we turned our backs we lost him again; he hadthought of another friend with whom to exchange farewells. At the longlast, however, we got them all collected. The procession started, thenaked boys proudly wheeling our bikes alongside. We saw them fairlyclear of everything, then turned them over to Kongoni, while we returnedto Nairobi to see after our effects. 

FOOTNOTES:

[10] Work. 

PART IV. A LION HUNT ON KAPITI. 

XVII. 

AN OSTRICH FARM AT MACHAKOS. 

This has to do with a lion hunt on the Kapiti Plains. On the veranda atNairobi I had some time previous met Clifford Hill, who had invited meto visit him at the ostrich farm he and his cousin were running in themountains near Machakos. Some time later, a visit to Juja Farm gave methe opportunity. Juja is only a day's ride from the Hills'. So anAfricander, originally from the south, Captain D. , and I sent across afew carriers with our personal effects, and ourselves rode over onhorseback. 

Juja is on the Athi Plains. Between the Athi and Kapiti Plains runs arange of low mountains around the end of which one can make his way asaround a promontory. The Hills' ostrich farm was on the highlands in thebay on the other side of the promontory. 

It was towards the close of the rainy season, and the rivers were up. We had to swim our horses within a half-mile of Juja, and got prettywet. Shortly after crossing the Athi, however, five miles on, we emergedon the dry, drained slopes from the hills. Here the grass was long, andthe ticks plentiful. Our horses' legs and chests were black with them;and when we dismounted for lunch we ourselves were almost immediatelyalive with the pests. In this very high grass the game was ratherscarce, but after we had climbed by insensible grades to the shortergrowth we began to see many hartebeeste, zebra, and gazelles, and a fewof the wildebeeste, or brindled gnus. Travel over these great plains andthrough these leisurely low hills is a good deal like coastwisesailing--the same apparently unattainable landmarks which, nevertheless, are at last passed and left astern by the same sure but insensibleprogress. Thus we drew up on apparently continuous hills, found widegaps between them, crossed them, and turned to the left along the otherside of the promontory. About five o'clock we came to the Hills'. 

The ostrich farm is situated on the very top of a conical rise thatsticks up like an island close inshore to the semicircle of mountains inwhich end the vast plains of Kapiti. Thus the Hills have at their backsand sides these solid ramparts and face westward the immensities ofspace. For Kapiti goes on over the edge of the world to unknown, unguessed regions, rolling and troubled like a sea. And from thatunknown, on very still days, the snowy peak of Kilimanjaro peers out, sketched as faintly against the sky as a soap bubble wafted upward andabout to disappear. Here and there on the plains kopjes stand likeislands, their stone tops looking as though thrust through the smoothprairie surface from beneath. To them meandered long, narrow ravinesfull of low brush, like thin, wavering streaks of gray. On thesekopjes--each of which had its name--and in these ravines we were to huntlions. 

We began the ascent of the cone on which dwelt our hosts. It was one ofthose hills that seem in no part steep, and yet which finally succeed inraising one to a considerable height. We passed two ostrich herds incharge of savages, rode through a scattered native village, and so cameto the farm itself, situated on the very summit. 

The house consisted of three large circular huts, thatched neatly withpapyrus stalks, and with conical roofs. These were arranged as atriangle, just touching each other; and the space between had beenroofed over to form a veranda. We were ushered into one of thesecircular rooms. It was spacious and contained two beds, two chairs, adresser, and a table. Its earth floor was completely covered by theskins of animals. In the corresponding room, opposite, slept our hosts;while the third was the living and dining room. A long table, raw-hidebottomed chairs, a large sideboard, bookcases, a long easy settee withpillows, gun racks, photographs in and out of frames, a table withwriting materials, and books and magazines everywhere--not to speak ofagain the skins of many animals completely covering the floor. Outbehind, in small, separate buildings, laboured the cook, and dwelt thestores, the bath-tub, and other such necessary affairs. 

As soon as we had consumed the usual grateful lime juice and sparklets, we followed our hosts into the open air to look around. 

On this high, airy hill top the Hills some day are going to build them areal house. In anticipation they have laid out grounds and have plantedmany things. In examining these my California training stood by me. Outthere, as here, one so often examines his own and his neighbours'gardens, not for what they are but for what they shall become. Hisimagination can exalt this tiny seedling to the impressiveness ofspreading noontime shade; can magnify yonder apparent duplicate to thefull symmetry of a shrub; can ruthlessly diminish the present importanceof certain grand and lofty growths to its true status of flower oranimal. So from a dead uniformity of size he casts forward in the yearsto a pleasing variation of shade, of jungle, of open glade, of floweredvista; and he goes away full of expert admiration for "X. 's bullygarden. " With this solid training beneath me I was able on this occasionto please immensely. 

From the house site we descended the slope to where the ostriches andthe cattle and the people were in the late sunlight swarming upward fromthe plains pastures below. These people were, to the chief extent, Wakamba, quite savage, but attracted here by the justness and fairdealing of the Hills. Some of them farmed on shares with the Hills, thewhite men furnishing the land and seed, and the black men the labour;some of them laboured on wage; some few herded cattle or ostriches; somewere hunters and took the field only when, as now, serious business wasafoot. They had their complete villages, with priests, witch doctors, and all; and they seemed both contented and fond of the two white men. 

As we walked about we learned much of the ostrich business; and in thecourse of our ten days' visit we came to a better realization of howmuch there is to think of in what appears basically so simple aproposition. 

In the nesting time, then, the Hills went out over the open country, sometimes for days at a time, armed with long high-power telescopes. With these fearsome and unwieldy instruments they surveyed the countryinch by inch from the advantage of a kopje. When thus they discovered anest, they descended and appropriated the eggs. The latter, hatched athome in an incubator, formed the nucleus of a flock. 

Pass the raising of ostrich chicks to full size through the difficultiesof disease, wild beasts, and sheer cussedness. Of the resultant thirtybirds or so of the season's catch, but two or three will even promisegood production. These must be bred in captivity with other likelyspecimens. Thus after several years the industrious ostrich farmer maybecome possessed of a few really prime birds. To accumulate a properflock of such in a new country is a matter of a decade or so. Extraprime birds are as well known and as much in demand for breeding as anyblood horse in a racing country. Your true ostrich enthusiast, like theHills, possesses trunks full of feathers not good commercially, butintensely interesting for comparison and for the purposes of prophecy. While I stayed with them came a rumour of a very fine plucking a distantneighbour had just finished from a likely two-year-old. The Hills weremanifestly uneasy until one of them had ridden the long distance tocompare this newcomer's product with that of their own two-year-olds. And I shall never forget the reluctantly admiring shake of the head withwhich he acknowledged that it was indeed a "very fine feather!"

But getting the birds is by no means all of ostrich farming, as manyeager experimenters have discovered to their cost. The birds must have acertain sort of pasture land; and their paddocks must be built on anearth that will not soil or break the edges of the new plumes. 

And then there is the constant danger of wild beasts. When a man hasspent years in gathering suitable flocks, he cannot be blamed for wildanger when, as happened while I was in the country, lions kill sixty orseventy birds in a night. The ostrich seems to tempt lions greatly. Thebeasts will make their way through and over the most complicateddefences. Any ostrich farmer's life is a constant warfare against them. Thus the Hills had slain sixty-eight lions in and near their farm--atremendous record. Still the beasts continued to come in. My hostsshowed me, with considerable pride, their arrangements finally evolvedfor night protection. 

The ostriches were confined in a series of heavy corrals, segregatingthe birds of different ages. Around the outside of this group ofenclosures ran a wide ring corral in which were confined the numerouscattle; and as an outer wall to this were built the huts of the Wakambavillage. Thus to penetrate to the ostriches the enterprising lion wouldhave to pass both the people, the cattle, and the strong thorn and logstructures that contained them. 

This subject brings me to another set of acquaintances we had alreadymade--the dogs. 

These consisted of an Airedale named Ruby; two setters called Waywardand Girlie; a heavy black mongrel, Nero; ditto brindle, Ben; and asmaller black and white ditto, Ranger. They were very nice friendlydoggy dogs, but they did not look like lion hunters. Nevertheless, Hillassured us that they were of great use in the sport, and promised usthat on the following day we should see just how. 

XVIII

THE FIRST LIONESS. 

At an early hour we loaded our bedding, food, tents, and camp outfit ona two-wheeled wagon drawn by four of the humpbacked native oxen, andsent it away across the plains, with instructions to make camp on acertain kopje. Clifford Hill and myself, accompanied by our gunbearersand syces, then rode leisurely down the length of a shallow brushy cañonfor a mile or so. There we dismounted and sat down to await the arrivalof the others. These--including Harold Hill, Captain D. , five or sixWakamba spearmen, our own carriers, and the dogs--came along moreslowly, beating the bottoms on the off chance of game. 

The sun was just warming, and the bees and insects were filling the airwith their sleepy droning sounds. The hillside opposite showed manylittle outcrops of rocks so like the hills of our own Western Statesthat it was somewhat difficult to realize that we were in Africa. Forsome reason the delay was long. Then suddenly all four of ussimultaneously saw the same thing. A quarter-mile away and on thehillside opposite a magnificent lioness came loping easily along throughthe grass. She looked very small at that distance, like a toy, and quiteunhurried. Indeed, every few moments she paused to look back in anannoyed fashion over her shoulder in the direction of the row behindher. 

There was nothing to do but sit tight and wait. The lioness was headedexactly to cross our front; nor, except at one point, was she at alllikely to deviate. A shallow tributary ravine ran into our own about twohundred yards away. She might possibly sneak down the bed of this. Itseemed unlikely. The going was bad, and in addition she had no idea asyet that she had been sighted. Indeed, the chances were that she wouldcome to a definite stop before making the crossing, in which case wewould get a shot. 

"And if she does go down the donga, " whispered Hill, "the dogs willlocate her. "

Sitting still while things approach is always exciting. This is true ofducks; but when you multiply ducks by lions it is still more true. Weall crouched very low in the grass. She leapt without hesitation intothe ravine--and did not emerge. 

This was a disappointment. We concluded she must have entered the streambottom, and were just about to move when Memba Sasa snapped his fingers. His sharp eyes had discovered her sneaking along, belly to the ground, like the cat she was. The explanation of this change in her gait wassimple. Our companions had rounded the corner of the hill and weregalloping in plain view a half-mile away. The lioness had caught sightof them. 

She was gliding by, dimly visible, through thick brush seventy yardsdistant. Now I could make out a tawny patch that faded while I looked;now I could merely guess at a melting shadow. 

"Stir her up, " whispered Hill. "Never mind whether you hit. She'll sneakaway. "

At the shot she leaped fully out into the open with a snarl. Promptly Iplanted a Springfield bullet in her ribs. She answered slightly to thehit, but did not shift position. Her head up, her tail thrashing fromside to side, her ears laid back, she stood there looking the landscapeover carefully point by point. She was searching for us, but as yetcould not locate us. It was really magnificent. 

I attempted to throw in another cartridge, but because of my desire towork the bolt quietly, in order not to attract the lioness's attention, I did not pull it back far enough, and the cartridge jammed in themagazine. As evidence of Memba Sasa's coolness and efficiency, it is tobe written that he became aware of this as soon as I did. He thrustthe. 405 across my right side, at the same time withdrawing theSpringfield on the left. The motion was slight, but the lioness caughtit. Immediately she dropped her head and charged. 

For the next few moments, naturally, I was pretty intent on lions. Nevertheless a corner of my mind was aware of Memba Sasa methodicallypicking away at the jammed rifle, and paying no attention whatever tothe beast. Also I heard Hill making picturesque remarks about hisgunbearer, who had bolted with his second gun. 

The lioness charged very fast, but very straight, about in the tearing, scrambling manner of a terrier after a thrown ball. I got in the firstshot as she came, the bullet ranging back from the shoulder, and Hillfollowed it immediately with another from his. 404 Jeffrey. She growledat the bullets, and checked very slightly as they hit, but gave no othersign. Then our second shots hit her both together. The mere shockstopped her short, but recovering instantly, she sprang forward again. Hill's third shot came next, and perceptibly slowed and staggered, butdid not stop her. By this time she was quite close, and my own thirdshot reached her brain. She rolled over dead. 

Decidedly she was a game beast, and stood more hammering than any otherlion I killed or saw killed. Before the final shot in the brain she hadtaken one light bullet and five heavy ones with hardly a wince. MembaSasa uttered a loud grunt of satisfaction when she went down for good. He had the Springfield reloaded and cocked, right at my elbow. 

Hill's gunboy hovered uncertainly some distance in the rear. The sightof the charging lioness had been too much for him and he had bolted. Hewas not actually up a tree; but he stood very near one. He lost the gunand acquired a swift kick. 

Our friends and the men now came up. The dogs made a great row over thedead lioness. She was measured and skinned to accompaniment of the usuallow-hummed chantings. We had with us a small boy of ten or twelve yearswhose job it was to take care of the dogs and to remove ticks. In facthe was known as the Tick Toto. As this was his first expedition afield, his father took especial pains to smear him with fat from the lioness. This was to make him brave. I am bound to confess the effect was notimmediate. 

XIX. 

THE DOGS. 

I soon discovered that we were hunting lions with the assistance of thedogs; not that the dogs were hunting lions. They had not lost any lions, not they! My mental pictures of the snarling, magnificent king of beastssurrounded by an equally snarling, magnificent pack vanished into thinair. 

Our system was to cover as much likely country as we could, and to letthe dogs have a good time. As I have before indicated, they werethoroughly doggy dogs, and interested in everything--except able-bodiedlions. None of the stick-at-your-heels in their composition. They rangedfar and wide through all sorts of cover, seeking what they could find inthe way of porcupines, mongoose, hares, birds, cats, and whatever elseshould interest any healthy-minded dog. If there happened to be anylions in the path of these rangings, the dogs retired rapidly, discreetly, and with every symptom of horrified disgust. If a dog camesailing out of a thicket, ki-yi-ing agitatedly, and took up hisposition, tail between his legs, behind his master, we knew there wasprobably a lion about. Thus we hunted lions with dogs. 

But in order to be fair to these most excellent canines, it should berecorded that they recovered a certain proportion of their nerve after arifle had been fired. They then returned warily to the--notattack--reconnaissance. This trait showed touching faith, and was a realcompliment to the marksmanship of their masters. Some day it will bemisplaced. A little cautious scouting on their part located the woundedbeast; whereupon, at a respectful distance, they lifted their voices. Asa large element of danger in case of a wounded lion is the uncertaintyas to his whereabouts, it will be seen that the dogs were very valuableindeed. They seemed to know exactly how badly hit any animal mighthappen to be, and to gauge their distance accordingly, until at last, when the quarry was hammered to harmlessness, they closed in and beganto worry the nearly lifeless carcass. By this policy the dogs had a lotof fun hunting on their own hook, preserved their lives from otherwiseinevitable extinction, and were of great assistance in saving theirmasters' skins. 

One member of the pack, perhaps two, were, however, rather patheticfigures. I refer to the setters, Wayward and Girlie. Ranger, Ruby, Ben, and Nero scampered merrily over the landscape after anything thatstirred, from field mice to serval cats. All was game to their catholictastes; and you may be sure, in a country like Africa, they had few dullmoments. But Wayward and Girlie had been brought up in a more exclusivemanner. Their early instincts had been supplemented by a rigorous earlytraining. Game to them meant birds, and birds only. Furthermore, theyhad been solemnly assured by human persons in whom they had the utmostconfidence, that but one sequence of events was permissible or eventhinkable in the presence of game. The Dog at first intimation by scentmust convey the fact to the Man, must proceed cautiously to locateexactly, must then stiffen to a point which he must hold staunchly, nomatter how distracting events might turn out, or how long an intervalmight elapse. The Man must next walk up the birds; shoot at them, perhaps kill one, then command the Dog to retrieve. The Dog must on noaccount move from his tracks until such command is given. All the affairis perfectly simple; but quite inflexible. Any variation in thisprocedure fills the honest bird dog's mind with the same horror anddismay experienced by a well-brought-up young man who discovers that hehas on shoes of the wrong colour. It isn't done, you know. 

Consider, then, Wayward and Girlie in a country full of game birds. Theyquarter wide to right, then cross to left, their heads high, theirfeather tails waving in the most approved good form. When they findbirds they draw to their points in the best possible style; stiffenout--and wait. It is now, according to all good ethics, up to the Man. And the Man and his companions go right on by, paying absolutely noattention either to the situation or one's own magnificent piece ofwork! What is one to conclude? That our early training is all wrong?that we are at one experience to turn apostate to the settled and onlycorrect order of things? Or that our masters are no gentlemen? That is apretty difficult thing, an impossible thing, to conclude of one's ownmaster. But it leaves one in a fearful state mentally; and one has noidea of what to do!

Wayward was a perfect gentleman, and he played the game according tothe very best traditions. He conscientiously pointed every bird he couldget his nose on. Furthermore he was absolutely staunch, and held hispoint even when the four non-bird dogs rushed in ahead of him. Theexpression of puzzlement, grief, shock, and sadness in his eyes deepenedas bird after bird soared away without a shot. Girlie was moreliberal-minded. She pointed her birds, and backed Wayward at need, butwhen the other dogs rushed her point, she rushed too. And when we swepton by her, leaving her on point, instead of holding it quixotically, asdid Wayward, until the bird sneaked away, she merely waited until wewere out of sight, and then tried to catch it. Finally Captain D. Remarked that, lions or no lions, he was not going to stand it anylonger. He got out a shotgun, and all one afternoon killed grouse overWayward, to the latter's intense relief. His ideals had beenrehabilitated. 

XX. 

BONDONI. 

We followed many depressions, in which might be lions, until about threeo'clock in the afternoon. Then we climbed the gently-rising long slopethat culminated, far above the plains, in the peak of a hill calledBondoni. From a distance it was steep and well defined; but, like mostof these larger kopjes, its actual ascent, up to the last few hundredfeet, was so gradual that we hardly knew we were climbing. At the summitwe found our men and the bullock cart. There also stood an oblongblockhouse of stone, the walls two feet thick and ten feet high. It wasentered only by a blind angle passage, and was strong enough, apparently, to resist small artillery. This structure was simply anostrich corral, and bitter experience had shown the massive constructionabsolutely necessary as adequate protection, in this exposed andsolitary spot, against the lions. 

We had some tea and bread and butter, and then Clifford Hill and I setout afoot after meat. Only occasionally do these hard-working settlersget a chance for hunting on the plains so near them; and now they hadpromised their native retainers that they would send back a treat ofgame. To carry this promised luxury, a number of the villagers hadaccompanied the bullock wagon. As we were to move on next day, it becamevery desirable to get the meat promptly while still near home. 

We slipped over to the other side, and by good fortune caught sight of adozen zebras feeding in scrub half-way down the hill. They were out oftheir proper environment up there, but we were glad of it. Down on ourtummies, then, we dropped, and crawled slowly forward through the high, sweet grasses. We were in the late afternoon shadow of the hill, and weenjoyed the mild skill of the stalk. Taking advantage of every cover, slipping over into little ravines, lying very flat when one of thebeasts raised his head, we edged nearer and nearer. We were already wellwithin range, but it amused us to play the game. Finally, at one hundredyards, we came to a halt. The zebra showed very handsome at that range, for even their smaller leg stripes were all plainly visible. Of courseat that distance there could be small chance of missing, and we ownedone each. The Wakamba, who had been watching eagerly, swarmed down, shouting. 

We dined just at sunset under a small tree at the very top of the peak. Long bars of light shot through the western clouds; the plain turnedfrom solid earth to a mysterious sea of shifting twilights; the buttesstood up, wrapped in veils of soft desert colours; Kilimanjaro hungsuspended like a rose-coloured bubble above the abyss beyond the world. 

XXI. 

RIDING THE PLAINS. 

From the mere point of view of lions, lion A hunting was very slow workindeed. It meant riding the whole of long days, from dawn until dark, investigating miles of country that looked all alike and in which weseemed to get nowhere. One by one the long billows of plain fell behind, until our camp hill had turned blue behind us, and we seemed to be outin illimitable space, with no possibility, in an ordinary lifetime, ofever getting in touch with anything again. What from above had looked aslevel as a floor now turned into a tremendously wide and placid groundswell. As a consequence we were always going imperceptibly up and up andup to a long-delayed sky-line, or tipping as gently down the other sideof the wave. From crest to crest of these long billows measured two orthree miles. The vertical distance in elevation from trough to top wasperhaps not over fifty to one hundred feet. 

Slowly we rode along the shallow grass and brush ravines in the troughsof the low billows, while the dogs worked eagerly in and out of cover, and our handful of savages cast stones and shouted. Occasionally wedivided forces, and beat the length of a hill, two of us lying in waitat one end for the possible lion, the rest sweeping the sides andsummits. Many animals came bounding along, but no lions. Then HaroldHill, unlimbering a huge, many-jointed telescope, would lie flat on hisback, and sight the fearsome instrument over his crossed feet, in ageneral bird's-eye view of the plains for miles around. While he was atit we were privileged to look about us, less under the burden ofresponsibility. We could make out the game as little, light-coloureddots and speckles, thousands upon thousands of them, thicker than cattleever grazed on the open range, and as far as the eye could make themout, and then a glance through our glasses picked them up again for mileafter mile. Even the six-power could go no farther. The imagination wasleft the vision of more leagues of wild animals even to the half-guessedazure mountains--and beyond. I had seen abundant game elsewhere inAfrica, but nothing like the multitudes inhabiting the Kapiti Plains atthat time of year. In other seasons this locality is comparativelydeserted. 

The glass revealing nothing in our line, we rode again to the lowerlevels, and again took up our slow, painstaking search. 

But although three days went by in this manner without our getting aglimpse of lions, they were far from being days lost. Minor adventurefilled our hours. What elsewhere would be of major interest and strangeand interesting experience met us at every turn. The game, whileabundant, was very shy. This had nothing to do with distrust of hunters, but merely with the fact that it was the season of green grass. We likedto come upon animals unexpectedly, to see them buck-jump and cavort. 

Otherwise we rode in a moving space cleared of animals, the beastsunobtrusively giving way before us, and as unobtrusively closing inbehind. The sun flashed on the spears of savages travelling single fileacross the distance. Often we stopped short to gaze upon a wild andtumbled horizon of storm that Gustave Doré might have drawn. 

The dogs were always joyously routing out some beast, desirable fromtheir point of view, and chasing it hopelessly about, to our greatamusement. Once they ran into a giant porcupine-about the size a setterwould be, with shorter legs-which did not understand running away. Theycame upon it in a dense thicket, and the ensuing row was unholy. Theymanaged to kill the porcupine among them, after which we plucked barbedquills from some very grieved dogs. The quills were large enough to makeexcellent penholders. The dogs also swore by all canine gods that theywouldn't do a thing to a hyena, if only they could get hold of one. Theynever got hold of one, for the hyena is a coward. His skull and teeth, however, are as big and powerful as those of a lioness; so I do not knowwhich was luckier in his avoidance of trouble--he or the dogs. 

Nor from the shooting standpoint did we lack for sport. We had to shootfor our men, and we occasionally needed meat ourselves. It was alwaysinteresting, when such necessities arose, to stalk the shy buck and dolong-range rifle practice. This shooting, however, was done only afterthe day's hunt was over. We had no desire to spoil our lion chances. 

The long circle towards our evening camp always proved very long indeed. We arrived at dusk to find supper ready for us. As we were oldcampaigners we ate this off chop boxes as tables, and sat on the ground. It was served by a Wakamba youth we had nicknamed Herbert Spencer, onaccount of his gigantic intellect. Herbert meant well, but about all hesucceeded in accomplishing was a pathetically wrinkled brow of care andscared eyes. He had never been harshly treated by any of us, but heacted as though always ready to bolt. If there were twenty easy rightmethods of doing a thing and one difficult wrong method, Herbert wouldget the latter every time. No amount of experience could teach him thelogic of our simplest ways. One evening he brought a tumbler of mixedwater and condensed milk. Harold Hill glanced into the receptacle. 

"Stir it, " he commanded briefly. 

Herbert Spencer obeyed. We talked about something else. Some five or tenminutes later one of us noticed that Herbert was still stirring, andcalled attention to the fact. When the latter saw our eyes were on himhe speeded up until the spoon fairly rattled in the tumbler. Then, whenhe thought our attention had relaxed again, he relaxed also hisefforts--the spoon travelled slower and slower in its dreamy circle. Weamused ourselves for some time thus. Then we became so weak fromlaughter that we fell backward off our seats, and some one gasped acommand that Herbert cease. 

I am afraid, after a little, that we rather enjoyed mildly tormentingpoor Herbert Spencer. He tried so hard, and looked so scared, and was sounbelievably stupid! Almost always he had to pick his orders word byword from a vast amount of high-flown, unnecessary English. 

"O Herbert Spencer, " the command would run, "if you would condescend tobend your mighty intellect to the lowly subject of maji, and will snatchtime from your profound cerebrations to assure its being moto sans, Iwould esteem it infinite condescension on your part to let pesi pesi. "

And Herbert, listening to all this with a painful, strained intensity, would catch the six-key words, and would falter forth a trembling "N'diobwana. "

Somewhere down deep within Herbert Spencer's make up, however, was asense of moral duty. When we finally broke camp for good, on the greathill of Lucania, Herbert Spencer, relieved from his job, bolted like ashot. As far as we could see him he was running at top speed. If he hadnot possessed a sense of duty, he would have done this long ago. 

We camped always well up on some of the numerous hills; for, althoughanxious enough to find lions in the daytime, we had no use for them atall by night. This usually meant that the boys had to carry water somedistance. We kept a canvas bath-tub full for the benefit of the dogs, from which they could drink at any time. This necessary privilege aftera hard day nearly drove Captain D. Crazy. It happened like this:

We were riding along the slope of a hillside, when in the ravine, a halfmile away and below us, we saw something dark pop up in sight and thendown again. We shouted to some of the savage Wakamba to go andinvestigate. They closed in from all sides, their long spears poised tostrike. At the last moment out darted, not an animal, but a badlyfrightened old man armed with bow and arrow. He dashed out under theupraised spears, clasped one of the men around the knees, and imploredprotection. Our savages, their spears ready, glanced over theirshoulders for instruction. They would have liked nothing better than tohave spitted the poor old fellow. 

We galloped down as fast as possible to the rescue. With reluctance ourspearmen drew back, releasing their prize. We picked up his scatteredbows and arrows, restored them to him, and uttered many reassurances. Hewas so badly frightened that he could not stand for the trembling of hisknees. Undoubtedly he thought that war had broken out, and that he wasthe first of its unconscious victims. After calming him down, we toldhim what we were doing, and offered to shoot him meat if he cared toaccompany us. He accepted the offer with joy. So pleased and relievedwas he, that he skipped about like a young and nimble goat. His huntingcompanion, who all this time had stood atop of a hill at a safedistance, viewed these performances with concern. Our captive shoutedloudly for him to come join us and share in the good fortune. Not he! Heknew a trap when he saw one! Not a bit disturbed by the tales this manwould probably carry back home, our old fellow attached himself to usfor three days!

Near sundown, to make our promise good, and also to give our own men afeast, I shot two hartebeeste near camp. 

The evening was beautiful. The Machakos Range, miles distant across thevalley, was mantled with thick, soft clouds. From our elevation we couldsee over them, and catch the glow of moonlight on their upper surfaces. We were very tired, so we turned in early and settled ourselves for agood rest. 

Outside our tent the little "Injun fire" we had built for our owncomfort died down to coals. A short distance away, however, was a hugebonfire around which all the savages were gathered. They squattedcomfortably on their heels, roasting meat. Behind each man was plantedhis glittering long-bladed spear. The old man held the place of honour, as befitted his flirtation with death that morning. Everybody wasabsolutely happy--a good fire, plenty of meat, and strangers with whomto have a grand "shauri. " The clatter of tongues was a babel, for almostevery one talked at once and excitedly. Those who did not talk croonedweird, improvised chants, in which they detailed the doings of the camp. 

We fell very quickly into the half doze of too great exhaustion. Itnever became more than a half doze. I suppose every one who reads thishas had at some time the experience of dropping asleep to theaccompaniment of some noise that ought soon to cease--a conversation inthe next room, singing, the barking of a dog, the playing of music, orthe like. The fact that it ought soon to cease, permits the fallingasleep. When, after an interval, the subconsciousness finds the rowstill going on, inexcusable and unabated, it arouses the victim tostaring exasperation. That was our case here. Those natives should haveturned in for sleep after a reasonable amount of pow-wow. They didnothing of the kind. On the contrary, I dragged reluctantly back toconsciousness and the realization that they had quite happily settleddown to make a night of it. I glanced across the little tent to whereCaptain D. Lay on his cot. He was staring straight upward, his eyes wideopen. 

After a few seconds he slipped out softly and silently. Our little firehad sunk to embers. A dozen sticks radiated from the centre of coals. Each made a firebrand with one end cool to the grasp. Captain D. Hurledone of these at the devoted and unconscious group. 

It whirled through the air and fell plunk in the other fire, scatteringsparks and coals in all directions. The second was under way before thefirst had landed. It hit a native with similar results, plus astonishedand grieved language. The rest followed in rapid-magazine-fire. Everyone hit its mark fair and square. The air was full of sparks explodingin all directions. The brush was full of Wakamba, their blanketsflapping in the breeze of their going. The convention was adjourned. There fell the sucking vacuum of a great silence. Captain D. , breathingrighteous wrath, flopped heavily and determinedly down on his cot. Icaught a faint snicker from the tent next door. 

Captain D. Sighed deeply, turned over, and prepared to sleep. Then oneof the dogs uprose--I think it was Ben--stretched himself, yawned, approached deliberately, and began to drink from the canvas bath-tubjust outside. He drank--lap, lap, lap, lap--for a very long time. Itseemed incredible that any mere dog--or canvas bath-tub--could hold somuch water. The steady repetition of this sound long after it shouldlogically have ceased was worse than the shenzi gathering around thefire. Each lap should have been the last, but it was not. The shenziconvention had been abated with firebrands, but the dog was strictlywithin his rights. The poor pups had had a long day with little water, and they could hardly be blamed for feeling a bit feverish now. At lastBen ceased. Next morning Captain D. Claimed vehemently that he had drunktwo hours forty-nine minutes and ten seconds. With a contented sigh Benlay down. Then Ruby got up, shook herself, and yawned. A bright ideastruck her. She too went over and had a drink. After that I, personally, went to sleep. But in the morning I found Captain D. Staring-eyed andstrung nearly to madness, trying feverishly to calculate how seven dogsdrinking on an average of three hours apiece could have finished bymorning. When Harold Hill innocently asked if he had slept well, thecaptain threw the remaining but now extinct firebrand at him. 

One of the safari boys, a big Baganda, had twisted his foot a little, and it had swelled up considerably. In the morning he came to have itattended to. The obvious treatment was very hot water and rest; but itwould never do to tell him so. The recommendation of so simple a remedywould lose me his faith. So I gave him a little dab of tick ointmentwrapped in a leaf. 

"This, " said I, "is most wonderful medicine; but it is also mostdangerous. If you were to rub it on your foot or your hand or any partof you, that part would drop off. But if you wash the part in very hotwater continuously for a half hour, and then put on the medicine, it isgood, and will cure you very soon. " I am sure I do not know what theyput in tick ointment; nor, for the purpose, did it greatly matter. Thatnight, also, Herbert Spencer reached the climax of his absurdities. Thechops he had cooked did not quite suffice for our hunger, so weinstructed him to give us some of the leg. By this we meant steak, ofcourse. Herbert Spencer was gone so long a time that finally we went tosee what possibly could be the matter. We found him trying desperatelyto cook the whole leg in a frying-pan!

XXII. 

THE SECOND LIONESS. 

Now our luck changed most abruptly. We had been riding since earlymorning over the wide plains. By and by we came to a wide, shallow, flood-water course carpeted with lava boulders and scant, scatteredbrush. Two of us took one side of it, and two the other. At this we werejust within hailing distance. The boys wandered down the middle. 

Game was here very abundant, and in this broken country proved quiteapproachable. I saw one Grant's gazelle head, in especial, that greatlytempted me; but we were hunting lions, and other shooting was out ofplace. Also the prospects for lions had brightened, for we werecontinually seeing hyenas in packs of from three to six. They lay amongthe stones, but galloped away at our approach. The game paid not theslightest attention to these huge, skulking brutes. One passed withintwenty feet of a hartebeeste; the latter hardly glanced at him. As thehyena is lazy as well as cowardly, and almost never does his killing, weinferred a good meat supply to gather so many of them in one place. Froma tributary ravine we flushed nineteen!

Harold Hill was riding with me on the right bank. His quick eye caught aglimpse of something beyond our companions on the left side. A glancethrough the glasses showed me that it was a lion, just disappearing overthe hill. At once we turned our horses to cross. It was a heavy job. Wewere naturally in a tremendous hurry; and the footing among thoseboulders and rounded rocks was so vile that a very slow trot was thebest we could accomplish. And that was only by standing in our stirrups, and holding up our horses' heads by main strength. We reached thesky-line in time to see a herd of game stampeding away from a depressiona half-mile away. We fixed our eyes on that point, and a moment latersaw the lion or lioness, as it turned out, leap a gully and come out theother side. 

The footing down this slope, too, was appalling, consisting mainly ofchunks of lava interspersed with smooth, rounded stones and sparse tuftsof grass. In spite of the stones we managed a sort of stumbling gallop. Why we did not all go down in a heap I do not know. At any rate we hadno chance to watch our quarry, for we were forced to keep our eyesstrictly to our way. When finally we emerged from that tumble of rocks, she had disappeared. 

Either she had galloped out over the plains, or she had doubled back totake cover in the ravine. In the latter case she would stand. Our firstjob, therefore, was to determine whether she had escaped over the opencountry. To this end we galloped our horses madly in four differentdirections, pushing them to the utmost, swooping here and there in widecircles. That was an exhilarating ten minutes until we had surmountedevery billow of the plain, spied in all directions, and assuredourselves beyond doubt that she had not run off. The horses fairly flew, spurning the hard sod, leaping the rock dikes, skipping nimbly aroundthe pig holes, turning like cow-ponies under pressure of knee and rein. Finally we drew up, converged, and together jogged our sweating horsesback to the ravine. There we learned from the boys that nothing more hadbeen seen of our quarry. 

We dismounted, handed our mounts to their syces, and prepared to makeafoot a clean sweep of the wide, shallow ravine. Here was where the dogscame in handy. We left a rearguard of two men, and slowly began ourbeat. 

The ravine could hardly be called a ravine; rather a shallow depressionwith banks not over a foot high, and with a varying width of from two totwo hundred feet. The grass grew very patchy, and not very high; infact, it seemed hardly tall enough to conceal anything as large as alioness. We men walked along the edge of this depression, while the dogsranged back and forth in its bottom. 

We had gone thus a quarter-mile when one of the rearguard came runningup. 

"Bwana, " said he, "we have seen the lioness. She is lying in a patch ofgrass. After you had passed, we saw her raise her head. "

It seemed impossible that she should have escaped both our eyes and thedogs' noses, but we returned. The man pointed out a thin growth ofdried, yellow grass ten feet in diameter. Then it seemed even moreincredible. Apparently we could look right through every foot of it. Theman persisted, so we advanced in battle array. At thirty yards CaptainD. Saw the black tips of her ears. We all looked hard, and at last madeher out, lying very flat, her head between her paws. Even then she wasshadowy and unreal, and, as I have said, the cover did not look thickenough to conceal a good-sized dog. 

As though she realized she had been sighted, she at this moment leapt toher feet. Instantly I put a. 405 bullet into her shoulder. Any other lionI ever saw or heard of would in such circumstances and at such adistance immediately have charged home. She turned tail and ran away. Imissed her as she ran, then knocked her down with a third shot. She gotup again, but was immediately hit by Captain D. 's. 350 Magnum and broughtto a halt. The dogs, seeing her turn tail and hearing our shots, hadscrambled madly after her. We dared not shoot again for fear of hittingone of them, so we dashed rapidly into the grass and out the other side. Before we could get to her, she had sent Ruby flying through the air, and had then fallen over dead. Ruby got off lucky with only a deep gashthe length of her leg. 

This was the only instance I experienced of a wounded lion showing thewhite feather. She was, however, only about three-quarters grown, andwas suffering from diarrhoea. 

XXIII. 

THE BIG LION. 

The boys skinned her while we ate lunch. Then we started several of themback towards camp with the trophy, and ourselves cut across country to asmall river known as the Stony Athi. There we dismounted from ourhorses, and sent them and the boys atop the ridge above the stream, while we ourselves explored afoot the hillside along the river. 

This was a totally different sort of country from that to which we hadbeen accustomed. Imagine a very bouldery hillside planted thickly withknee-high brambles and more sparsely with higher bushes. They were notreally brambles, of course, but their tripping, tangling, spikyqualities were the same. We had to force our way through these, or stepfrom boulder to boulder. Only very rarely did we get a little rubblyclear space to walk in, and then for only ten or twenty feet. We triedin spaced intervals to cover the whole hillside. It was very hard work. The boys, with the horses, kept pace with us on the sky-line atop, andtwo or three hundred yards away. 

We had proceeded in this fashion for about a mile, when suddenly, andmost unexpectedly, the biggest lion I ever saw leapt straight up from abush twenty-five yards in front of me, and with a tremendous roarvanished behind another bush. I had just time to throw up the. 405shotgun-fashion and let drive a snapshot. Clifford Hill, who was tenyards to my right, saw the fur fly, and we all heard the snarl as thebullet hit. Naturally we expected an instant charge, but, as thingsturned out, it was evident the lion had not seen us at all. He had leaptat the sight of our men and horses on the sky-line, and when the bullethit he must have ascribed it to them. At any rate, he began to circlethrough the tangled vines in their direction. 

From their elevation they could follow his movements. At once they setup howls of terror and appeals for help. Some began frantically to runback and forth. None of them tried to run away; there was nowhere to go!The only thing that saved them was the thick and spiky character of thecover. The lion, instead of charging straight and fast, was picking aneasy way. 

We tore directly up hill as fast as we were able, leaping from rock torock, and thrusting recklessly through the tangle. About half-way up Ijumped to the top of a high, conical rock, and thence by good luckcaught sight of the lion's great yellow head advancing steadily abouteighty yards away. I took as good a sight as I could and pulled trigger. The recoil knocked me clear off the boulder, but as I fell I saw histail go up and knew that I had hit. At once Clifford Hill and I jumpedup on the rock again, but the lion had moved out of sight. By this time, however, the sound of the shots and the smell of blood had caused thedogs to close in. They did not, of course, attempt to attack the lion, nor even to get very near him, but their snarling and barking showed usthe beast's whereabouts. Even this much is bad judgment on their part, as a number of them have been killed at it. The thicket burst into anunholy row. 

We all manoeuvred rapidly for position. Again luck was with me, foragain I saw his great head, the mane standing out all around it; andfor the second time I planted a heavy bullet square in his chest. Thisstopped his advance; he lay down. His head was up and his eyes glared, as he uttered the most reverberating and magnificent roars and growls. The dogs leapt and barked around him. We came quite close, and I plantedmy fourth bullet in his shoulder. Even this was not enough. It took afifth in the same place to finish him, and he died at last biting greatchunks of earth. 

The howls from the hill top ceased. All gathered to marvel at the lion'simmense size. He measured three feet nine inches at the shoulder, andnine feet eleven inches between stakes, or ten feet eleven inches alongcontour. This is only five inches under record. We weighed himpiecemeal, after a fashion, and put him between 550 and 600 pounds. 

But these are only statistics, and mean little unless a real attempt ismade to visualize them. As a matter of fact, his mere height--that of amedium-size zebra-was little unless accented by the impression of histremendous power and quickness. 

We skinned him, and then rode four long hours to camp. We arrived atdark, and at once set to work preparing the trophy. A dozen of ussquatted around the skin, working by lantern light. Memba Sasa had hadnothing to eat since before dawn, but in his pride and delight herefused to touch a mouthful until the job was finished. Several times weurged him to stop long enough for even a bite. He steadily declined, andwhetted his knife, his eyes gleaming with delight, his lips crooning oneof his weird Monumwezi songs. At eleven o'clock the task was done. ThenI presented Memba Sasa with a tall mug of coffee and lots of sugar. Heconsidered this a great honour. 

XXIV. 

THE FIFTEEN LIONS. 

Two days before Captain D. And I were to return to Juja we approached, about eleven o'clock in the morning, a long, low, rugged range of hillscalled Lucania. They were not very high, but bold with cliffs, buttes, and broken rocky stretches. Here we were to make our final hunt. 

We led our safari up to the level of a boulder flat between two deepcañons that ran down from the hills. Here should be water, so wegathered under a lone little tree, and set about directing the simpledisposition of our camp. Herbert Spencer brought us a cold lunch, and wesat down to rest and refreshment before tackling the range. 

Hardly had we taken the first mouthfuls, however, when Memba Sasa, gasping for breath, came tearing up the slope from the cañon where hehad descended for a drink. "Lions!" he cried, guardedly. "I went todrink, and I saw four lions. Two were lying under the shade, but twoothers were playing like puppies, one on its back. "

While he was speaking a lioness wandered out from the cañon and up theopposite slope. She was somewhere between six and nine hundred yardsaway, and looked very tiny; but the binoculars brought us up to her witha jump. Through them she proved to be a good one. She was not at allhurried, but paused from time to time to yawn and look about her. Aftera short interval, another, also a lioness, followed in her footsteps. She too had climbed clear when a third, probably a full-grown but stillimmature lion, came out, and after him the fourth. 

"You were right, " we told Memba Sasa, "there are your four. "

But while we watched, a fifth, again at the spaced interval, this time amaned lion, clambered leisurely up in the wake of his family; and afterhim another, and another, and yet another! We gasped, and sat down, thebetter to steady our glasses with our knees. There seemed no end tolions. They came out of that apparently inexhaustible cañon bed one at atime and at the same regular intervals; perhaps twenty yards or soapart. It was almost as though they were being released singly. Finallywe had _fifteen_ in sight. 

It was a most magnificent spectacle, and we could enjoy it unhurried bythe feeling that we were losing opportunities. At that range it would besilly to open fire. If we had descended to the cañon in order to followthem out the other side, they would merely have trotted away. Our onlychance was to wait until they had disappeared from sight, and then toattempt a wide circle in order to catch them from the flank. In themeantime we had merely to sit still. 

Therefore we stared through our glasses, and enjoyed to the full thismost unusual sight. There were four cubs about as big as setter dogs, four full-grown but immature youngsters, four lionesses, and three malelions. They kept their spaced, single file formation for two-thirds theascent of the hill--probably the nature of the ground forced them toit--and then gradually drew together. Near the top, but still below thesummit, they entered a jumble of boulders and stopped. We could make outseveral of them lying down. One fine old yellow fellow stretched himselfcomfortably atop a flat rock, in the position of a bronze lion on apedestal. We waited twenty minutes to make sure they were not going tomove. Then, leaving all our men except the gunbearers under the tree, weslipped back until out of sight, and began to execute our flankmovement. The chances seemed good. The jumble of boulders was surroundedby open country, and it was improbable the lions could leave it withoutbeing seen. We had arranged with our men a system of signals. 

For two hours we walked very hard in order to circle out of sight, downwind, and to gain the other side of the ridge back of the lions. Wepurposed slipping over the ridge and attacking from above. Even this wasbut a slight advantage. The job was a stiff one, for we might expectcertainly the majority to charge. 

Therefore, when we finally deployed in skirmish order and bore down onthat patch of brush and boulders, we were braced for the shock ofbattle. We found nothing. Our men, however, signalled that the lions hadnot left cover. After a little search, however, we discovered a veryshallow depression running slantwise up the hill and back of the cover. So slight it was that even the glasses had failed to show it from below. The lions had in all probability known about us from the start, andwere all the time engaged in withdrawing after their leisurely fashion. 

Of course we hunted for them; in fact, we spent two days at it; but wenever found trace of them again. The country was too hard for tracking. They had left Lucania. Probably by the time we had completed our twohours of flanking movement they were five miles away. The presence ofcubs would account for this. In ordinary circumstances we should havehad a wonderful and exciting fight. But the sight of those fifteen greatbeasts was one I shall never forget. 

After we had hunted Lucania thoroughly we parted company with the Hills, and returned to Juja Farm. 

PART V. 

THE TSAVO RIVER. 

XXV. 

VOI. 

Part way up the narrow-gauge railroad from the coast is a station calledVoi. On his way to the interior the traveller stops there for an eveningmeal. It is served in a high, wide stone room by white-robed Swahilisunder command of a very efficient and quiet East Indian. The voyagersteps out into the darkness to look across the way upon the outlines oftwo great rounded hills against an amethyst sky. That is all he eversees of Voi, for on the down trip he passes through it about two o'clockin the morning. 

At that particularly trying hour F. And I descended, and attempted, bythe light of lanterns, to sort out twenty safari boys strange to us, andmiscellaneous camp stores. We did not entirely succeed. Three men werecarried on down the line, and the fly to our tent was never seen again. 

The train disappeared. Our boys, shivering, crept into corners. We tookpossession of the dak-bungalow maintained by the railroad for just suchtravellers as ourselves. It was simply a high stone room, with threeiron beds, and a corner so cemented that one could pour pails of waterover one's self without wetting the whole place. The beds were suppliedwith mosquito canopies and strong wire springs. Over these we spread ourown bedding, and thankfully resumed our slumbers. 

The morning discovered to us Voi as the station, the districtcommissioner's house on a distant side hill, and a fairly extensive EastIndian bazaar. The keepers of the latter traded with the natives. Immediately about the station grew some flat shady trees. All else wasdense thorn scrub pressing close about the town. Opposite were the tall, rounded mountains. 

Nevertheless, in spite of its appearance, Voi has its importance in thescheme of things. From it, crossing the great Serengetti desert, runsthe track to Kilimanjaro and that part of German East Africa. TheGermans have as yet no railroad; so they must perforce patronize theBritish line thus far, and then trek across. As the Kilimanjarodistrict is one rich in natives and trade, the track is well used. Mostof the transport is done by donkeys--either in carts or under the packsaddle. As the distance from water to water is very great, the journeyis a hard one. This fact, and the incidental consideration that from flyand hardship the mortality in donkeys is very heavy, pushes the freightrates high. And that fact accounts for the motor car, which has been mypoint of aim from the beginning of this paragraph. 

The motor car plies between Voi and the German line at exorbitant rates. Our plan was to have it take us and some galvanized water tanks out intothe middle of the desert and dump us down there. So after breakfast wehunted up the owner. 

He proved to be a very short, thick-set, blond German youth whojustified Weber and Fields. In fact, he talked so exactly like thosecomedians that my task in visualizing him to you is somewhat lightened. If all, instead of merely a majority of my readers, had seen Weber andFields that task would vanish. 

We explained our plan, and asked him his price. 

"Sefen hundert and feefty rupees, "[11] said he uncompromisingly. 

He was abrupt, blunt, and insulting. As we wanted transportation verymuch--though not seven hundred and fifty rupees' worth--we persisted. Heoffered an imperturbable take-it-or-leave-it stolidity. The motor truckstood near. I said something technical about the engine; then somethingmore. He answered these remarks, though grudgingly. I suggested that ittook a mighty good driver to motor through this rough country. Hementioned a particular hill. I proposed that we should try the stationrestaurant for beer while he told me about it. He grunted, but headedfor the station. 

For two hours we listened to the most blatant boasting. He was a greatdriver; he had driven for M. , the American millionaire; for the ChineseAmbassador to France; for Grand-Duke Alexis; for the Kaiser himself! Welearned how he had been the trusted familiar of these celebrities, howon various occasions--all detailed at length--he had been treated bythem as an equal; and he told us sundry sly, slanderous, and disgustinganecdotes of these worthies, his forefinger laid one side his nose. When we finally got him worked up to the point of going to get someexcessively bad photographs, "I haf daken myself!" we began to havehopes. So we tentatively approached once more the subject oftransportation. 

Then the basis of the trouble came out. One Davis, M. P. From England, had also dealt with our friend. Davis, as we reconstructed him, was ofthe blunt type, with probably very little feeling of democracy for thosein subordinate positions, and with, most certainly, a good deal ofinsular and racial prejudice. Evidently a rather vague bargain had beenstruck, and the motor had set forth. Then ensued financial wranglingsand disputes as to terms. It ended by useless hauteur on Davis's part, and inexcusable but effective action by the German. For Davis foundhimself dumped down on the Serengetti desert and left there. 

We heard all this in excruciatingly funny Weberandfieldese, many timesrepeated. The German literally beat his breast and cried aloud againstDavis. We unblushingly sacrificed a probably perfectly worthy Davis topresent need, and cried out against him too. 

"Am I like one dog?" demanded the German fervently. 

"Certainly not, " we cried with equal fervour. We both like dogs. 

Then followed wearisomely reiterated assurances that we, at least, knewhow a gentleman should be treated, and more boasting of proudconnections in the past. But the end of it was a bargain of reasonabledimensions for ourselves, our personal boys, and our loads. Under pleaof starting our safari boys off we left him, and crept, with shatterednerves, around the corner of the dak-bungalow. There we lurked, busy atpretended affairs, until our friend swaggered away to the Hinduquarters, where, it seems, he had his residence. 

About ten o'clock a small safari marched in afoot. It had travelled allof two nights across the Thirst, and was glad to get there. The singlewhite man in charge had been three years alone among the natives nearKilimanjaro, and he was now out for a six months' vacation at home. Twonatives in the uniform of Sudanese troops hovered near him verysorrowful. He splashed into the water of the dak-bungalow, and thenintroduced himself. We sat in teakwood easy-chairs and talked all day. He was a most interesting, likeable, and cordial man, at any stage ofthe game. The game, by means of French vermouth--of alldrinks!--progressed steadily. We could hardly blame him for celebrating. By the afternoon he wanted to give things away. So insistent was he thatF. Finally accepted an ebony walking-stick, and I an ebony knife insetwith ivory. If we had been the least bit unscrupulous, I am afraid therelatives at home would have missed their African souvenirs. He went out_viâ_ freight car, all by himself, seated regally in a steamer chairbetween two wide-open side doors, one native squatted on either side tosee that he did not lurch out into the landscape. 

FOOTNOTES:

[11] Fifty pounds. 

XXVI. 

THE FRINGE-EARED ORYX. 

At ten o'clock the following morning we started. On the high front seat, under an awning, sat the German, F. , and I. The body of the truck wasfilled with safari loads, Memba Sasa, Simba Mohammed, and F. 's boy, whose name I have forgotten. The arrangement on the front seat was dueto a strike on the part of F. 

"Look here, " said he to me, "you've got to sit next that rotter. We wanthim to bring us back some water from the other side, and I'd break hisneck in ten minutes. You sit next him and give him your motor carpatter. "

Therefore I took the middle seat and played chorus. The road was not abad one, as natural mountain roads go; I have myself driven worse inCalifornia. Our man, however, liked to exaggerate all the difficulties, and while doing it to point to himself with pride as a perfect wonder. Between times he talked elementary mechanics. 

"The inflammation of the sparkling plugs?" was one of his expressionsthat did much to compensate. 

The country mounted steadily through the densest thorn scrub I have everseen. It was about fifteen feet high, and so thick that its penetration, save by made tracks, would have been an absolute impossibility. Our roadran like a lane between two spiky jungles. Bold bright mountains croppedup, singly and in short ranges, as far as the eye could see them. 

This sort of thing for twenty miles--more than a hard day's journey onsafari. We made it in a little less than two hours; and the breeze ofour going kept us reasonably cool under our awning. We began toappreciate the real value of our diplomacy. 

At noon we came upon a series of unexpectedly green and clear smallhills just under the frown of a sheer rock cliff. This oasis in thethorn was occupied by a few scattered native huts and the usual squalidIndian dukka, or trading store. At this last our German friend stopped. From under the seat he drew out a collapsible table and a basket ofprovisions. These we were invited to share. Diplomacy's highest triumph!

After lunch we surmounted our first steep grade to the top of a ridge. This we found to be the beginning of a long elevated plateau sweepinggently downward to a distant heat mist, which later experience proved aconcealment to snowcapped Kilimanjaro. This plateau also looked to becovered with scrub. As we penetrated it, however, we found the busheswere more or less scattered, while in the wide, shallow dips between theundulations were open grassy meadows. There was no water. Isolatedmountains or peaked hills showed here and there in the illimitablespaces, some of them fairly hull down, all of them toilsomely distant. This was the Serengetti itself. 

In this great extent of country somewhere were game herds. They wereexceedingly migratory, and nobody knew very much about them. One of thespecies would be the rare and localized fringe-eared oryx. This beastwas the principal zoological end of our expedition; though, of course, as always, we hoped for a chance lion. Geographically we wished to findthe source of the Swanee River, and to follow that stream down to itsjoining with the Tsavo. About half-past one we passed our safari boys. We had intended to stop and replenish their canteens from ourwater-drums; but they told us they had encountered a stray andastonishing shower, and did not need more. We left them trudgingcheerfully across the desert. They had travelled most of the nightbefore, would do the same in the night to come, and should reach ourcamping-place about noon of the next day. 

We ourselves stopped about four o'clock. In a few hours we had come ahard three days' march. Over the side went our goods. We bade the Germana very affectionate farewell; for he was still to fill our drums fromone of the streams out of Kilimanjaro and deliver them to us on hisreturn trip next day. We then all turned to and made camp. The scrubdesert here was exactly like the scrub desert for the last sixty miles. 

The next morning we were up and off before sunrise. In this job time wasa very large element of the contract. We must find our fringe-eared oryxbefore our water supply gave out. Therefore we had resolved not to losea moment. 

The sunrise was most remarkable--lace work, flat clouds, with burnishedcopper-coloured clouds behind glowing through the lace. We admired itfor some few moments. Then one of us happened to look higher. There, above the sky of the horizon, apparently suspended in mid-air half-wayto the zenith, hung like delicate bubbles the double snow-cloud peaks ofKilimanjaro. Between them and the earth we could apparently see clearsky. It was in reality, of course, the blue-heat haze that rarely leavesthese torrid plains. I have seen many mountains in all parts of theworld, but none as fantastically insubstantial; as wonderfully lofty; asgracefully able to yield, before clouds and storms and sunrise glows, all the space in infinity they could possibly use, and yet to towerabove them serene in an upper space of its own. Nearly every morning ofour journey to come we enjoyed this wonderful vision for an hour or so. Then the mists closed in. The rest of the day showed us a grayish skyalong the western horizon, with apparently nothing behind it. 

In the meantime we were tramping steadily ahead over the desert;threading the thorn scrub, crossing the wide shallow grass-grown swales;spying about us for signs of game. At the end of three or four miles wecame across some ostrich and four hartebeeste. This encouraged us tothink we might find other game soon, for the hartebeeste is a gregariousanimal. Suddenly we saw a medium-sized squat beast that none of usrecognized, trundling along like a badger sixty yards ahead. Anycreature not easily identified is a scientific possibility in Africa. Therefore we fired at once. One of the bullets hit his foreleg paw. Immediately this astonishing small creature turned and charged us! Ifhis size had equalled his ferocity, he would have been a formidableopponent. We had a lively few minutes. He rushed us again and again, uttering ferocious growls. We had to step high and lively to keep out ofhis way. Between charges he sat down and tore savagely at his woundedpaw. We wanted him as nearly perfect a specimen as possible, so tried torap him over the head with a club. Owing to remarkably long teeth andclaws, this was soon proved impracticable; so we shot him. He weighedabout fifty pounds, and we subsequently learned that he was a honeybadger, an animal very rarely captured. 

We left the boys to take the whole skin and skull of this beast, andstrolled forward slowly. The brush ended abruptly in a wide valley. Ithad been burnt over, and the new grass was coming up green. We gave onelook, and sank back into cover. 

The sparse game of the immediate vicinity had gathered to this freshfeed. A herd of hartebeeste and gazelle were grazing, and five giraffeadorned the sky-line. But what interested us especially was a group ofabout fifty cob-built animals with the unmistakable rapier horns of theoryx. We recognized them as the rarity we desired. 

The conditions were most unfavourable. The cover nearest them gave arange of three hundred yards, and even this would bring them directlybetween us and the rising sun. There was no help for it, however. Wemade our way to the bushes nearest the herd, and I tried to align theblurs that represented my sights. At the shot, ineffective, they racedto the right across our front. We lay low. As they had seen nothing theywheeled and stopped after two hundred yards of flight. This shift hadbrought the light into better position. Once more I could define mysights. From the sitting position I took careful aim at the largestbuck. He staggered twenty feet and fell dead. The distance was just 381paces. This shot was indeed fortunate, for we saw no more fringe-earedoryx. 

XXVII. 

ACROSS THE SERENGETTI. 

We arrived in camp about noon, almost exhausted with the fierce heat anda six hours' tramp, to find our German friend awaiting us. By an ironyof fate the drums of water he had brought back with him were nowunnecessary; we had our oryx. However, we wearily gave him lunch andlistened to his prattle, and finally sped him on his way, hoping neverto see him again. 

About three o'clock our men came in. We doled out water rations, andtold them to rest in preparation for the morrow. 

Late that night we were awakened by a creaking and snorting and theflash of torches passing. We looked out, to see a donkey transporttoiling slowly along, travelling thus at night to avoid the terrific dayheats. The two-wheeled carts with their wild and savage drivers lookedvery picturesque in the flickering lights. We envied them vaguely theirdefined route that permitted night travel, and sank to sleep. 

In the morning, however, we found they had left with us newresponsibilities in the shape of an elderly Somali, very sick, and downwith the fever. This was indeed a responsibility. It was manifestlyimpossible for us to remain there with him; we should all die of thirst. It was equally impossible to take him with us, for he was quite unfit totravel under the sun. Finally, as the best solution of a bad business, we left him five gallons of water, some food, and some quinine, togetherwith the advice to rest until night, and then to follow his companionsalong the beaten track. What between illness and wild beasts his chancesdid not look very good, but it was the best we could do for him. Thisincident exemplifies well the cruelty of this singular people. Theyprobably abandoned the old man because his groans annoyed them, orbecause one of them wanted to ride in his place on the donkey cart. [12]

We struck off as early as possible through the thorn scrub on a compassbearing that we hoped would bring us to a reported swamp at the head ofthe Swanee River. The Swanee River was one of the sources of the Tsavo. Of course this was guesswork. We did not know certainly the location ofthe swamp, its distance from us, nor what lay between us and it. However, we loaded all our transportable vessels with water, and setforth. 

The scrub was all alike; sometimes thinner, sometimes thicker. Wemarched by compass until we had raised a conical hill above the horizon, and then we bore just to the left of that. The surface of the ground wascut by thousands of game tracks. They were all very old, however, madeafter a rain; and it was evident the game herds venture into thiscountry only when it contains rainwater. After two hours, however, wedid see one solitary hartebeeste, whom we greeted as an old friend indesolation. Shortly afterwards we ran across one oribi, which I shot forour own table. 

At the end of two hours we sat down. The safari of twenty men was a verymiscellaneous lot, consisting of the rag-tag-and-bobtail of the bazaarspicked up in a hurry. They were soft and weak, and they straggled badly. The last weakling--prodded along by one of our two askaris--limped inonly at the end of half an hour. Then we took a new start. 

The sun was by now up and hot. The work was difficult enough at best, but the weight of the tropics was now cast in the scale. Twice morewithin the next two hours we stopped to let every one catch up. Eachtime this required a longer interval. In the thorn it was absolutelyessential to keep in touch with every member of the party. A man oncelost would likely remain so, for we could not afford to endanger all forthe sake of one. 

Time wore on until noon. Had it not been for a thin film of haze thatnow overspread the sky, I think the sun would have proved too much forsome of the men. Four or five straggled so very badly that we finallyleft them in charge of one of our two askaris, with instructions tofollow on as fast as they could. In order to make this possible, we wereat pains to leave a well-marked trail. 

After this fashion, slowly, and with growing anxiety for some of themen, we drew up on our landmark hill. There our difficulties increased;the thorn brush thickened. Only by a series of short zigzags, and bytaking advantage of every rhino trail going in our direction, could wemake our way through it at all; while to men carrying burdens on theirheads the tangle aloft must have been fairly maddening. So slow did ourprogress necessarily become, and so difficult was it to keep in touchwith everybody, that F. And I finally halted for consultation. It wasdecided that I should push on ahead with Memba Sasa to make certain thatwe were not on the wrong line, while F. And the askaris struggled withthe safari. 

Therefore I took my compass bearing afresh, and plunged into the scrub. The sensation was of hitting solid ground after a long walk throughsand. We seemed fairly to shoot ahead and out of sight. Whenever we cameupon earth we marked it deeply with our heels; we broke twigs downwards, and laid hastily-snatched bunches of grass to help the trail we wereleaving for the others to follow. This, in spite of our compass, was avery devious track. Besides, the thorn bushes were patches of spiky aloecoming into red flower, and the spears of sisal. 

After an hour's steady, swift walking the general trend of the countrybegan to slope downwards. This argued a watercourse between us and thehills around Kilimanjaro. There could be no doubt that we would cut it;the only question was whether it, like so many desert watercourses, might not prove empty. We pushed on the more rapidly. Then we caught aglimpse through a chance opening, of the tops of trees below us. Afteranother hour we suddenly burst from the scrub to a strip of green grassbeyond which were the great trees, the palms, and the festooned vines ofa watercourse. Two bush bucks plunged into the thicket as we approached, and fifteen or twenty mongooses sat up as straight and stiff as so manypicket pins the better to see us. 

For a moment my heart sank. The low undergrowth beneath the treesapparently swept unbroken from where we stood to the low bank opposite. It was exactly like the shallow, damp but waterless ravines at home, filled with black berry vines. We pushed forward, however, and foundourselves looking down on a smooth, swift flowing stream. 

It was not over six feet wide, grown close with vines and grasses, butso very deep and swift and quiet that an extraordinary volume of waterpassed, as through an artificial aqueduct. Furthermore, unlike mostAfrican streams, it was crystal clear. We plunged our faces and wristsin it, and took long, thankful draughts. It was all most grateful afterthe scorching desert. The fresh trees meeting in canopy overhead werefull of monkeys and bright birds; festooned vines swung their greatropes here and there; long heavy grass carpeted underfoot. 

After we had rested a few minutes we filled our empty canteens, andprepared to start back for our companions. But while I stood there, Memba Sasa--good, faithful Memba Sasa--seized both canteens and dartedaway. 

"Lie down!" he shouted back at me, "I will go back. "

Without protest--which would have been futile anyway--I sank down on thegrass. I was very tired. A little breeze followed the watercourse; thegrass was soft; I would have given anything for a nap. But in wildAfrica a nap is not healthy; so I drowsily watched the mongooses thathad again come out of seclusion, and the monkeys, and the birds. At theend of a long time, and close to sundown, I heard voices. A moment laterF. , Memba Sasa, and about three-quarters of the men came in. We all, white and black, set to work to make camp. Then we built smudges andfired guns in the faint hope of guiding in the stragglers. As a matterof fact we had not the slightest faith in these expedients. Unless themen were hopelessly lost they should be able to follow our trail. Theymight be almost anywhere out in that awful scrub. The only course opento them would be to climb thorn trees for the night. Next day we wouldorganize a formal search for them. 

In the meantime, almost dead from exhaustion, we sprawled abouteverywhere. The men, too dispirited even to start their own camp-fires, sat around resting as do boxers between rounds. Then to us came MembaSasa, who had already that day made a double journey, and who shouldhave been the most tired of all. 

"Bwana, " said he, "if you will lend me Winchi, [13] and a lantern, I willbring in the men. "

We lent him his requirements, and he departed. Hours later he returned, carefully leaned "Winchi" in the corner of the tent, deposited thelantern, and stood erect at attention. 

"Well, Memba Sasa, " I inquired. 

"The men are here. "

"They were far?"

"Very far. "

"Verna, Memba Sasa, assanti sana. "[14]

That was his sole--and sufficient--reward. 

FOOTNOTES:

[12] I have just heard that this old man survived, and has been singingour praises in Nairobi as the saviour of his life. 

[13] His name for the. 405 Winchester. 

[14] "Very good, Memba Sasa, thanks very much. "

XXVIII. 

DOWN THE RIVER. 

Relieved now of all anxiety as to water, we had merely to make our waydownstream. First, however, there remained the interesting task ofdetermining its source. 

Accordingly next day we and our gunbearers left the boys to awell-earned rest, and set out upstream. At first we followed the edge ofthe river jungle, tramping over hard hot earth, winding in and out ofgrowths of thorn scrub and brilliant aloes. We saw a herd of impallasgliding like phantoms; and as we stood in need of meat, I shot at one ofthem but missed. The air was very hot and moist. At five o'clock in themorning the thermometer had stood at 78 degrees; and by noon it hadmounted to 106 degrees. In addition the atmosphere was filled with thehumidity that later in the day was to break in extraordinary deluges. We moved slowly, but even then our garments were literally dripping wet. 

At the end of three miles the stream bed widened. We came uponbeautiful, spacious, open lawns of from eighty to one hundred acresapiece, separated from each other by narrow strips of tall forest trees. The grass was high, and waved in the breeze like planted grain; theboundary trees resembled artificial wind-breaks of eucalyptus orNormandy poplar. One might expect a white ranch house beyond some lowclump of trees, and chicken runs, and corrals. 

Along these apparent boundaries of forest trees our stream divided, anddivided again, so that we were actually looking upon what we had come toseek--the source of the Swanee branch of the Tsavo River. In thesepeaceful, protected meadows was it cradled. From them it sprang fullsize out into the African wilderness. 

A fine impalla buck grazed in one of these fields. I crept as near himas I could behind one of the wind-break rows of trees. It was not verynear, and for the second time I missed. Thereupon we decided two things:that we were not really meat hungry, and that yesterday's hard work wasnot conducive to to-day's good shooting. 

Having thus accomplished the second object of our expedition, wereturned to camp. From that time begins a regular sequence of events onwhich I look back with the keenest of pleasure. The two constant factorswere the river and the great dry country on either side. Day after daywe followed down the one, and we made brief excursions out into theother. Each night we camped near the sound of the swift running water, where the winds rustled in the palms, the acacias made lacework acrossthe skies, and the jungle crouched in velvet blackness close to earthlike a beast. 

Our life in its routine was regular; in its details bizarre and full ofthe unexpected. Every morning we arose an hour before day, and ate bylantern light and the gleam of fires. At the first gray we were afootand on the march. F. And I, with our gunbearers, then pushed ahead downthe river, leaving the men to come along as fast or as slowly as theypleased. After about six hours or so of marching, we picked out a goodcamp site, and lay down to await the safari. By two o'clock in theafternoon camp was made. Also it was very hot. After a light lunch westripped to the skin, lay on our cots underneath the mosquito canopies, and tried to doze or read. The heat at this time of day was blighting. About four o'clock, if we happened to be inspired by energy, one or theother of us strolled out at right angles to the stream to see what wecould see. The evening was tepid and beautiful. Bathed and pyjama-cladwe lolled in our canvas chairs, smoking, chatting or listening to theinnumerable voices of the night. 

Such was the simple and almost invariable routine of our days. Butenriching it, varying it, disguising it even--as rain-squalls, sunshinecloud shadow, and unexpected winds modify the landscape so well knownfrom a study window--were the incredible incidents and petty adventuresof African travel. 

The topography of the river itself might be divided very roughly intothree: the headwater country down to its junction with the Tsavo thepalm-elephant-grass stretch, and the gorge and hill district just beforeit crosses the rail road. 

The headwater country is most beautiful The stream is not over ten feetwide, but very deep, swift, and clear. It flows between defined banksand is set in a narrow strip of jungle. In places the bed widens out toa carpet of the greenest green grass sown with flowers; at other placesit offers either mysterious thickets, spacious cathedrals, or snugbowers. Immediately beyond the edge of this river jungle begins thethorn scrub, more or less dense. Distant single mountains or buttesserve as landmarks in a brush-grown, gently rising, strongly rollingcountry. Occasional alluvial flats draw back to low cliffs not overtwenty feet high. 

After the junction of the Tsavo, palms of various sorts replace to alarge extent the forest trees. Naturally also the stream widens andflows more slowly. Outside the palms grow tall elephant-grass and bush. Our marching had generally to be done in the narrow, neutral spacebetween these two growths. It was pleasant enough, with the riversnatching at the trailing branches, and the birds and animals rustlingaway. Beyond the elephant-grass flats low ridges ran down to the river, varying in width, but carrying always with them the dense thorn. Betweenthem ran recesses, sometimes three or four hundred acres in extent, highwith elephant-grass or little trees like alders. So much for theimmediate prospect on our right as we marched. Across the river to ourleft were huge riven mountains, with great cliffs and cañons. As wefollowed necessarily every twist and turn of the river, sometimes thesemountains were directly ahead of us, then magically behind, so that wethought we had passed them by. But the next hour threw them again acrossour trail. The ideal path would, of course, have cut across all thebends and ridges; but the thorn of the ridges and the elephant-grass ofthe flats forbade it. So we marched ten miles to gain four. 

After days of struggle and deception we passed those mountains. Then weentered a new type of country where the Tsavo ran in cañons betweenhills. The high cliffs often towered far above us; we had to pick ourway along narrow river ledges; again the river ran like a trout streamover riffles and rapids, while we sauntered along cleared banks beneaththe trees. Had we not been making a forced march under terrific heat atjust that time, this last phase of the river might have been thepleasantest of all. 

Throughout the whole course of our journey the rhinoceros was the mostabundant of the larger animals. The indications of old tracks provedthat at some time of the year, or under some different conditions, greatherds of the more gregarious plains antelope and zebra visited theriver, but at the time of our visit they were absent. The rhinoceroses, however, in incredible numbers came regularly to water. Paradoxically, we saw very few of them, and enjoyed comparative immunity from theircharges. This was due to the fact that their habits and ours swung indifferent orbits. The rhinoceros, after drinking, took to the hot, drythorn scrub in the low hills; and as he drank at night, we rarelyencountered him in the river bottoms where we were marching. This wasvery lucky, for the cover was so dense that a meeting must necessarilybe at close quarters. Indeed these large and truculent beasts wererather a help than a hindrance, for we often made use of their wide, clear paths to penetrate some particularly distressing jungle. However, we had several small adventures with them: just enough to keep us alertin rounding corners or approaching bushes--and nine-tenths of our travelwas bushes and corners. The big, flat footsteps, absolutely fresh in thedust, padded methodically ahead of us down the only way until it seemedthat we could not fail to plump upon their maker around the next bend. We crept forward foot by foot, every sense alert, finger on trigger. Then after a time the spoor turned off to the right, towards the hills. We straightened our backs and breathed a sigh of relief. This happenedover and over again. At certain times of year also elephants frequentthe banks of the Tsavo in considerable numbers We saw many old signs, and once came upon the fresh path of a small herd. The great beasts hadpassed by that very morning. We gazed with considerable awe on limbssnatched bodily from trees; on flat-topped acacias a foot in diameterpulled up by the roots and stood up side down; on tree trunks twistedlike ropes. 

Of the game by far the most abundant were the beautiful red impalla. Wecaught glimpses of their graceful bodies gliding in and out of sightthrough the bushes; or came upon them standing in small openings, theirdelicate ears pointed to us. They and the tiny dikdik furnished ourtable; and an occasional water-buck satisfied the men. One day we cameon one of the latter beasts sound asleep in a tiny open space. He waslying down, and his nose rested against the earth just like a very oldfamily horse in a paddock. 

Besides these common species were bush-buck wart-hog, lesser kudu, giraffe, and leopard. The bush-buck we jumped occasionally quite near athand. They ducked their heads low and rushed tearingly to the nextcover. The leopard was heard sighing every night, and saw their padmarks next day; but only twice did we catch glimpses of them. Onemorning we came upon the fresh-killed carcass of a female lesser kudufrom which, evidently, we had driven the slayer. 

These few species practically completed the game list. They weresufficient for our needs; and the lesser kudu was a prize much desiredfor our collection. But by far the most interesting to me were thesmaller animals, the birds, and the strange, innumerable insects. 

We saw no natives in the whole course of our journey. 

The valley of the river harboured many monkeys. They seemed to be of twospecies, blue and brown, but were equally noisy and amusing. Theyretired ahead of our advance with many remarks, or slipped past us tothe rear without any comments whatever. When we made camp they retiredwith indignant protests, and when we had quite settled down theyreturned as near as they dared. 

One very hot afternoon I lay on my canvas cot in the open, staringstraight upward into the overarching greenery of the trees. This is avery pleasant thing to do. The beautiful up-spreading, outstretching ofthe tree branches and twigs intrigue the eye; the leaves makefascinating, hypnotically waving patterns against a very blue sky; andin the chambers and galleries of the upper world the birds and insectscarry on varied businesses of their own. After a time the corner of myeye caught a quick movement far to the left and in a shadow. At once Iturned my attention that way. After minute scrutiny I at length made outa monkey. Evidently considering himself quite unobserved, he was slowlyand with great care stalking our camp. Inch by inch he moved, takingskilful advantage of every bit of cover, flattening himself along thelimbs, hunching himself up behind bunches of leaves, until he had gaineda big limb directly overhead. There he stretched flat, staring down atthe scene that had so strongly aroused his curiosity. I lay there forover two hours reading and dozing. My friend aloft never stirred. Whendusk fell he was still there. Some time after dark he must have regainedhis band, for in the morning the limb was vacant. 

Now comes the part of this story that really needs a witness, not toveracity perhaps, but to accuracy of observations. Fortunately I have F. About noon next day the monkey returned to his point of observation. Heused the same precautions as to concealment; he followed his route ofthe day before; he proceeded directly to his old conning tower on thebig limb. It did not take him quite so long to get there, for he hadalready scouted out the trail. _And close at his heels followed twoother monkeys_! They crawled where he crawled; they crouched where hecrouched; they hid where he hid; they flattened themselves out by him onthe big limb, and all three of them passed the afternoon gazing down onthe strange and fascinating things below. Whether these newcomers werepart of the first one's family out for a treat, or whether they wereCook's Tourists of the Jungle in charge of my friend's competence as aguide, I do not know. 

Farther down the river F. And I stopped for some time to watch thecrossing of forty-odd of the little blue monkeys. The whole bandclambered to near the top of a tall tree growing by the water's edge. There, one by one, they ran out on a straight overhanging limb and castthemselves into space. On the opposite bank of the river, and leaningwell out, grew a small springy bush. Each monkey landed smash in themiddle of this, clasped it with all four hands, swayed alarmingly, recovered, and scampered ashore. It was rather a nice problem inballistics this, for a mistake in calculation of a foot in distance ora pound in push would land Mr. Monkey in the water. And the joke of itwas that directly beneath that bush lay two hungry-looking crocodiles!As each tiny body hurtled through the air I'll swear a look of hope cameinto the eyes of those crocs. We watched until the last had made hisleap. There were no mistakes. The joke was against the crocodiles. 

We encountered quite a number of dog-faced baboons. These big apesalways retreated very slowly and noisily. Scouts in the rearguard werecontinually ascending small trees or bushes for a better look at us, then leaping down to make disparaging remarks. One lot seemed to showsuch variation in colour from the usual that we shot one. The distancewas about two hundred and fifty yards. Immediately the whole band--ahundred or so strong--dropped on all fours and started in our direction. This was rather terrifying. However, as we stood firm, they slowly cameto a halt at about seventy yards, barked and chattered for a moment, then hopped away to right and left. 

XXIX. 

THE LESSER KUDU. 

About eight o'clock, the evening of our first day on the Swanee, theheat broke in a tropical downpour. We heard it coming from a longdistance, like the roar of a great wind. The velvet blackness, starhung, was troubled by an invisible blurring mist, evidenced only througha subtle effect on the subconsciousness. Every leaf above us, in thecircle of our firelight, depended absolutely motionless from its stem. The insects had ceased their shrilling; the night birds their chirping;the animals, great and small, their callings or their stealthy rustlingto and fro. Of the world of sound there remained only the crackling ofour fires, the tiny singing of the blood in our ears, and that far-offportentous roar. Our simple dispositions were made. Trenches had beendug around the tents; the pegs had been driven well home; our stores hadbeen put in shelter. We waited silently, puffing away our pipes. 

The roaring increased in volume. Beneath it we began to hear the long, rolling crash of thunder. Overhead the stars, already dimmed, weresuddenly blotted from existence. Then came the rain, in a literaldeluge, as though the god of floods had turned over an entire reservoirwith one twist of his mighty hand. Our fire went out instantly; thewhole world went out with it. We lay on our canvas cots unable to see afoot beyond our tent opening; unable to hear anything but the insistent, terrible drumming over our heads; unable to think of anything throughthe tumult of waters. As a man's body might struggle from behind awaterfall through the torrents, so our imaginations, half drowned, managed dimly to picture forth little bits--the men huddled close intheir tiny tents, their cowled blankets over their heads. All the restof the universe had gone. 

After a time the insistent beat and rush of waters began to wear throughour patience. We willed that this wracking tumult should cease; wewilled it with all the force that was in us. Then, as this proved vain, we too humped our spiritual backs, cowled our souls with patience, andwaited dumbly for the force of the storm to spend itself. Our facultieswere quite as effectually drowned out by the unceasing roar and crash ofthe waters as our bodily comfort would have been had we lacked theprotection of our tent. 

Abruptly the storm passed. It did not die away slowly in the diminuendoof ordinary storms. It ceased as though the reservoir had been tippedback again. The rapid _drip_, _drip_, _drip_ of waters now made thewhole of sound; all the rest of the world lay breathless. Then, insideour tent, a cricket struck up bravely. 

This homely, cheerful little sound roused us. We went forth to countdamages and to put our house in order. The men hunted out dry wood andmade another fire; the creatures of the jungle and the stars above themventured forth. 

Next morning we marched into a world swept clean. The ground was assmooth as though a new broom had gone over it. Every track now wasfresh, and meant an animal near at hand. The bushes and grasses werehung with jewels. Merry little showers shook down from trees sharing ajoke with some tiny wind. White steam rose from a moist, fertile-lookingsoil. The smell of greenhouses was in the air. Looking back, we werestricken motionless by the sight of Kilimanjaro, its twin peakssuspended a clean blue sky, fresh snow mantling its shoulders. 

This day, so cheeringly opened, was destined to fulfil its promise. Inthe dense scrub dwell a shy and rare animal called the lesser kuduspecimens of which we greatly desired. The beast keeps to the thickestand driest cove where it is impossible to see fifty yards ahead butwhere the slightest movement breaks the numberless dry interlacements ofwhich the place seems made. To move really quietly one could not coverover a half-mile in an hour. As the countryside extends a thousandsquare miles or more, and the lesser kudu is rare, it can be seen thathunting them might have to be a slow and painful process. We had twiceseen the peculiar tracks. 

On this morning, however, we caught a glimpse of the beast itself. Aflash of gray, with an impression of the characteristic harness-likestripes--that was all. The trail, in the ground, was of course veryplain. I left the others and followed it into the brush. As usual thethorn scrub was so thick that I had to stoop and twist to get through itat all, and so brittle that the least false move made a crackling like afire. The rain of the night before had, however, softened the _débris_lying on the ground. I moved forward as quickly as I could, halfsuffocated in the steaming heat of the dense thicket. After three orfour hundred yards the beast fell into a walk, so I immediately halted. I reasoned that after a few steps at this gait he would look back to seewhether or not he was followed. If his scouting showed him nothing hemight throw off suspicion. After ten minutes I crept forward again. Thespoor showed my surmises to be correct, for I came to where the animalhad turned, behind a small bush, and had stood for a few minutes. Takingup the tracks from this point, I was delighted to find that the kudu hadforgotten its fear, and was browsing. At the end of five minutes more ofvery careful work, I was fortunate enough to see it, feeding from thetop of a small bush thirty-five yards away. The raking shot from theSpringfield dropped it in its tracks. 

It proved to be a doe, a great prize of course, but not to be comparedwith the male. We skinned her carefully, and moved on, delighted to havethe species. 

Our luck was not over, however. At the end of six hours we picked ourcamp in a pretty grove by the swift-running stream. There we sat downto await the safari. The tree-tops were full of both the brown and bluemonkeys, baboons barked at us from a distance, the air was musical withmany sweet birds. Big thunder-clouds were gathering around the horizon. 

The safari came in. Mohammed immediately sought us out to report, ingreat excitement, that he had seen five kudu across the stream. Heclaimed to have watched them even after the safari had passed, and thatthey had not been alarmed. The chance was slight that the kudu could befound, but still it was a chance. Accordingly we rather reluctantly gaveup our plans for a loaf and a nap. Mohammed said the place was an hourback; we had had six hours march already. However, about two o'clock weset out. Before we had arrived quite at the spot we caught a glimpse ofthe five kudu as they dashed across a tiny opening ahead of us. They hadmoved downstream and crossed the river. 

It seemed rather hopeless to follow them into that thick country oncethey had been alarmed, but the prize was great. Therefore Memba Sasa andI took up the trail. We crept forward a mile, very quiet, verytense--very sweaty. Then simultaneously, through a chance opening and along distance away, we caught a patch of gray with a single transversewhite stripe. There was no chance to ascertain the sex of the beast, norwhat part of its anatomy was thus exposed. I took a bull's eye chance onthat patch of gray; had the luck to hit it in the middle. The animalwent down. Memba Sasa leapt forward like a madman; I could not begin tokeep pace with him. When I had struggled through the thorn, I found himdancing with delight. 

"Monuome, bwana! buck, master!" he cried as soon as he saw me, and madea spiral gesture in imitation of the male's beautiful corkscrew horns. 

While the men prepared the trophy, F. And I followed on after the otherfour to see what they would do, and speedily came to the conclusion thatwe were lucky to land two of the wily beasts. The four ran compactlytogether and in a wide curve for several hundred yards. Then two faceddirectly back, while the other two, one on either side, made a shortdetour out and back to guard the flanks. 

We did not get back to camp until after dark. A tremendous pair ofelectric storms were volleying and roaring at each other across thespace of night; leopards were crying; a pack of wild dogs were barkingvociferously. The camp, as we approached it, was a globe of light in abower of darkness. The fire, shining and flickering on the under sidesof the leaves, lent them a strangely unreal stage-like appearance; theporters, their half-naked bodies and red blankets catching the blaze, roasted huge chunks of meat over little fires. 

We ate a belated supper in comfort, peace, and satisfaction. Then thestorms joined forces and fell upon us. 

XXX. 

ADVENTURES BY THE WAY. 

We journeyed slowly on down the stream. Interesting things happened tous. The impressions of that journey are of two sorts: the littleisolated details and the general background of our day's routine, withthe gray dawn, the great heats of the day, the blessed evening and itsfireflies; the thundering of heaven's artillery, and the downpour oftorrents; the hot, high, crackling thorn scrub into which we madeexcursions; the swift-flowing river with its palms and jungles;outleaning palms trailing their fronds just within the snatch of theflood waters; wide flats in the embrace of the river bends, or extendinginto the low hills, grown thick with lush green and threaded withrhinoceros paths; the huge sheer cliff mountains over the way; distantsingle hills far down. The mild discomfort of the start before daylightclearly revealed the thorns and stumbling blocks; the buoyantcheerfulness of the first part of the day, with the grouse rocketingstraight up out of the elephant grass, the birds singing everywhere, andthe beasts of the jungle still a-graze at the edges; the growing weightof the sun, as though a great pressing hand were laid upon theshoulders; the suffocating, gasping heat of afternoon, and the;gathering piling black and white clouds; the cool evening in pyjamaswith the fireflies flickering; among the bushes, the river singing, andlittle; breezes wandering like pattering raindrops in the dry palmleaves--all these, by repetition of main elements, blend in my memory toform a single image. To be sure each day the rock pinnacles over the waychanged slightly their compass bearings, and little variations ofcontour lent variety to the procession of days. But in essentials theywere of one kin. 

But here and there certain individual scenes and incidents stand outclearly and alone. Without reference to my notebook I could not tell youtheir chronological order, nor the days of their happening. Theyoccurred, without correlation. 

Thus one afternoon at the loafing hour, when F. Was sound asleep underhis mosquito bar, and I in my canvas chair was trying to catch thebreeze from an approaching deluge, to me came a total stranger in alarge turban. He was without arms or baggage of any sort, an alien in astrange and savage country. 

"Jambo, bwana m'kubwa (greeting, great master)!" said he. 

"Jambo, " said I, as though his existence were not in the leastsurprising, and went on reading. This showed him that I was indeed agreat master. 

After a suitable interval I looked up. 

"Wataka neenee (what do you want)?" I demanded. 

"Nataka sema qua heri (I want to say good-bye), " said this astonishingindividual. 

I had, until that moment, been quite unaware of his existence. As he hadtherefore not yet said "How do you do, " I failed to fathom his reasonsfor wanting to say "good-bye. " However, far be it from me to deny anyone innocent pleasure, so I gravely bade him good-bye, and hedisappeared into the howling wilderness whence he had come. 

 * * * * *

One afternoon we came upon two lemurs seated gravely side by side on ahorizontal limb ten feet up a thorn tree. They contemplated us with thepreternatural gravity of very young children, and without the slightestsign of fear. We coveted them as pets for Billy, but soon discoveredthat their apparent tameness was grounded on good, solid common sense. The thorns of that thorn tree! We left them sitting upright, side byside. 

A little farther on, and up a dry earthy hillside, a medium-sized beastleapt from an eroded place fairly under my feet and made off with asingularly familiar kiyi. It was a strange-looking animal, apparentlybrick red in colour. When I had collected myself I saw it was a wilddog. It had been asleep in a warm hollow of red clay, and had notawakened until I was fairly upon it. We had heard these beasts nearlyevery night, but this was the first we had seen. Some days later we cameupon the entire pack drinking at the river. They leapt suddenly acrossour front eighty yards away, their heads all turned towards ustruculently, barking at us like so many watch dogs. They made off, butnot as though particularly alarmed. 

 * * * * *

One afternoon I had wounded a good wart-hog across the river, and hadgone downstream to find a dry way over. F. , more enthusiastic, hadplunged in and promptly attacked the wart-hog. He was armed with theEnglish service revolver shooting the. 455 Ely cartridge. It is a veryshort, stubby bit of ammunition. I had often cast doubt on its drivingpower as compared to the. 45 Colt, for example. F. , as a loyalEnglishman, had, of course, defended his army's weapon. When I reachedthe centre of disturbance I found that F. Had emptied his revolver threetimes--eighteen shots--into the head and forequarters of that wart-hogwithout much effect. Incidentally the wart-hog had given him a goodlively time, charging again and again. The weapon has not nearly theshock power of even our. 38 service--a cartridge classified as too lightfor serious business. 

 * * * * *

One afternoon I gave my shotgun to one of the porters to carry afield, remarking facetiously to all and sundry that he looked like a gunbearer. After twenty minutes we ran across a rhinoceros. I spent some timetrying to manoeuvre into position for a photograph of the beast. However, the attempt failed. We managed to dodge his rush. Then, afterthe excitement had died, we discovered the porter and the shotgun up atree. He descended rather shamefaced. Nobody said anything about it. Ahalf-hour later we came upon another rhinoceros. The beast was visibleat some distance, and downhill. Nevertheless the porter moved a littlenearer a tree. This was too much for Memba Sasa. All the rest of theafternoon he "ragged" that porter in much the same terms we would haveemployed in the same circumstances. 

"That place ahead, " said he, "looks like a good place for rhinoceros. Perhaps you'd better climb a tree. "

"There is a dikdik; a bush is big enough to climb for him. "

"Are you afraid of jackals, too?"

 * * * * *

The fireflies were our regular evening companions. We caught one or twoof them for the pleasure of watching them alternately igniting andextinguishing their little lamps. Even when we put them in a bottle theystill kept up their performance bravely. 

But besides them we had an immense variety of evening visitors. Beetlesof the most inconceivable shapes and colours, all sorts of moths, andnumberless strange things--leaf insects, walking-stick insects (exactlylike dry twigs), and the fierce, tall, praying mantis with their mockair of meekness and devotion. Let one of the other insects stray withinreach and their piety was quickly enough abandoned! One beetle aboutthree-eighths of an inch across was oblong in shape and of pureglittering gold. His wing covers, on the other hand, were round andtransparent. The effect was of a jewel under a tiny glass case. Otherbeetles were of red dotted with black, or of black dotted with red; theysported stripes, or circles of plain colours; they wore long, slenderantennae, or short knobby horns; they carried rapiers or pinchers, longlegs or short. In fact they ran the gamut of grace and horror, so thatan inebriate would find here a great rest for the imagination. 

After we had gone to bed we noticed more pleasantly our cricket. Hepiped up, you may remember, the night of the first great storm. Thatevening he took up his abode in some fold or seam of our tent, and therestayed throughout all the rest of the journey. Every evening he tuned upcheerfully, and we dropped to sleep to the sound of his homelike piping. We grew very fond of him, as one does of everything in this wild andchanging country that can represent a stable point of habitude. 

Nor must I forget one evening when all of a sudden out of the darknesscame a tremendous hollow booming, like the beating of war drums or thebellowing of some strange great beast. At length we identified theperformer as an unfamiliar kind of frog!

XXXI. 

THE LOST SAFARI. 

We were possessed of a map of sorts, consisting mostly of wide blankspaces, with an occasional tentative mountain, or the probable course ofstreams marked thereon. The only landmark that interested us was asingle round peak situated south of our river and at a point just beforewe should cross the railroad at Tsavo Station. There came a day when, from the top of a hill where we had climbed for the sake of the outlook, we thought we recognized that peak. It was about five miles away as thecrow flies. 

Then we returned to camp and made the fatal mistake of starting tofigure. We ought to cover the distance, even with the inevitable twistsand turns, in a day; the tri-weekly train passed through Tsavo thefollowing night; if we could catch that we would save a two days' waitfor the next train. You follow the thought. We arose very early thenext morning to get a good start on our forced march. 

There is no use in spinning out a sad tale. We passed what we thoughtmust be our landmark hill just eleven times. The map showed only onebutte; as a matter of fact there were dozens. At each disappointment wehad to reconstruct our theories. It is the nature of man to do thishopefully--Tsavo Station must be just around the _next_ bend. We marchedsix hours without pause; then began to save ourselves a little. By allthe gods of logical reasoning we _proved_ Tsavo just beyond a certainfringe of woods. When we arrived we found that there the river brokethrough a range of hills by way of a deep gorge. It was a change fromthe everlasting scrub, with its tumbling waters, its awful cliffs, itsluxuriant tropical growths; but it was so much the more difficult tomake our way through. Beyond the gorge we found any amount of hills, kopjes, buttes, sugar loaves, etc. , each isolated from its fellows, eachperfectly competent to serve as the map's single landmark. 

We should have camped, but we were very anxious to catch that train; andwe were convinced that now, after all that work, Tsavo could not be faraway. It would be ridiculous and mortifying to find we had campedalmost within sight of our destination!

The heat was very bad and the force of the sun terrific. It seemed topossess actual physical weight, and to press us down from above. Wefilled our canteens many times at the swift-running stream, and emptiedthem as often. By two o'clock F. Was getting a little wobbly from thesun. We talked of stopping, when an unexpected thunder shower rolled outfrom behind the mountains, and speedily overcast the entire heavens. This shadow relieved the stress. F. , much revived, insisted that weproceed. So we marched and passed many more hills. 

In the meantime it began to rain, after the whole-hearted tropicalfashion. In two minutes we were drenched to the skin. I kept my matchesand notebook dry by placing them in the crown of my cork helmet. Afterthe intense heat this tepid downpour seemed to us delicious. 

And then, quite unexpectedly, of course, we came around a bend to makeout through the sheets of rain the steel girders of the famous Tsavobridge. [15]

We clambered up a steep, slippery bank to the right-of-way, along whichwe proceeded half a mile to the station. This consisted of two or threenative huts, a house for the East Indian in charge, and the stationbuilding itself. The latter was a small frame structure with a narrowfloorless veranda. There was no platform. Drawing close on all sides wasthe interminable thorn scrub. Later, when the veil of rain had beendrawn aside, we found that Tsavo, perched on a hillside, looked abroadover a wide prospect. For the moment all we saw was a dark, dismal, dripping station, wherein was no sign of life. 

We were beginning to get chilly, and we wanted very much some tea, fire, a chance to dry, pending the arrival of our safari. We jerked open thedoor and peered into the inky interior. 

"Babu!" yelled F. , "Babu!"

From an inner back room came the faint answer in most precise English, --

"I can-not come; I am pray-ing. "

There followed the sharp, quick tinkle of a little bell--the Indianmanner of calling upon the Lord's attention. 

We both knew better than to hustle the institutions of the East; so wewaited with what patience we had, listening to the intermittenttinkling of the little bell. At the end of fully fifteen minutes thedevotee appeared. He proved to be a mild, deprecating little man, veryeager to help, but without resources. He was a Hindu, and lived mainlyon tea and rice. The rice was all out, but he expected more on the nighttrain. There was no trading store here. He was the only inhabitant. After a few more answers he disappeared, to return carrying two piecesof letter paper on which were tea and a little coarse native sugar. These, with a half-dozen very small potatoes, were all he had to offer. 

It did not look very encouraging. We had absolutely nothing in which toboil water. Of course we could not borrow of our host; caste stood inthe way there. If we were even to touch one of his utensils, thatutensil was for him defiled for ever. Nevertheless, as we had eatennothing since four o'clock that morning, and had put a hard day's workbehind us, we made an effort. After a short search we captured a savagepossessed of a surfuria, or native cooking pot. Memba Sasa scrubbed thiswith sand. First we made tea in it, and drank turn about, from its wideedge. This warmed us up somewhat. Then we dumped in our few potatoes anda single guinea fowl that F. Had decapitated earlier in the day. Weate; and passed the pot over to Memba Sasa. 

So far, so good; but we were still very wet, and the uncomfortablethought would obtrude itself that the safari might not get in that day. It behoved us at least to dry what we had on. I hunted up Memba Sasa, whom I found in a native hut. A fire blazed in the middle of the floor. I stooped low to enter, and squatted on my heels with the natives. Slowly I steamed off the surface moisture. We had rather a good timechatting and laughing. After a while I looked out. It had stoppedraining. Therefore I emerged and set some of the men collectingfirewood. Shortly I had a fine little blaze going under the veranda roofof the station. F. And I hung out our breeches to dry, and spread thetails of our shirts over the heat. F. Was actually the human chimney, for the smoke was pouring in clouds from the breast and collar of hisshirt. We were fine figures for the public platform of a railwaystation!

We had just about dried off and had reassumed our thin and scantygarments, when the babu emerged. We stared in drop-jawed astonishment. He had muffled his head and mouth in a most brilliant scarf, as if forzero weather; although dressed otherwise in the usual pongee. Under onearm he carried a folded clumsy cotton umbrella; around his waist he hadbelted a huge knife; in his other hand he carried his battle-axe. I meanjust that--his battle-axe. We had seen such things on tapestries or inmuseums, but did not dream that they still existed out of captivity. This was an Oriental looking battle-axe with a handle three feet long, aspike on top, a spike out behind, and a half-moon blade in front. Thebabu had with a little of his signal paint done the whole thing, bladeand all, to a brilliant window-shutter green. 

As soon as we had recovered our breath, we asked him very politely thereason for these stupendous preparations. It seemed that it was hishabit to take a daily stroll just before sunset, "for the sake of thehealth, " as he told us in his accurate English. 

"The bush is full of bad men, " he explained, "who would like to kill me;but when they see this axe and this knife they say to each other, 'Therewalks a very bad man. We dare not kill him. '"

He marched very solemnly a quarter-mile up the track and back, always inplain view. Promptly on his return he dived into his little back roomwhere the periodic tinkling of his praying bell for some time marked hisgratitude for having escaped the "bad men. "

The bell ceased. Several times he came to the door, eyed us timidly, andbolted back into the darkness. Finally he approached to within ten feet, twisted his hands and giggled in a most deprecating fashion. 

"What is the use of this killing game?" he gabbled as rapidly as hecould. "Man should not destroy what man cannot first create. " Afterwhich he giggled again and fled. 

His conscience, evidently, had driven him to this defiance of our highmightinesses against his sense of politeness and his fears. 

About this time my boy Mohammed and the cook drifted in. They reportedthat they had left the safari not far back. Our hopes of supper andblankets rose. They declined, however, with the gathering darkness, andwere replaced by wrath against the faithless ones. Memba Sasa, in spiteof his long day, took a gun and disappeared in the darkness. He did notget back until nine o'clock, when he suddenly appeared in the doorway tolean the gun in the corner, and to announce, "Hapana safari. "

We stretched ourselves on a bench and a table--the floor wasimpossible--and took what sleep we could. In the small hours the trainthundered through, the train we had hoped to catch!

FOOTNOTES:

[15] This is the point at which construction was stopped by man-eatinglions. See Patterson's "The Man-eaters of Tsavo. "

XXXII. 

THE BABU. 

We stretched ourselves stiffly in the first gray of dawn, wonderingwhere we could get a mouthful of breakfast. On emerging from the stationa strange and gladsome sight met our eyes--namely, chop boxes and guncases belonging to some sportsman not yet arrived. Necessity knows nolaw; so we promptly helped ourselves to food and gun-cleaningimplements. Much refreshed, we lit our pipes and settled ourselves towait for our delinquents. 

Shortly after sunrise an Indian track inspector trundled in on a handcarpropelled by two natives. He was a suave and corpulent person with avery large umbrella and beautiful silken garments. The natives upset thehandcar off the track, and the newcomer settled himself for an enjoyablemorning. He and the babu discussed ethics and metaphysical philosophyfor three solid hours. Evidently they came from different parts ofIndia, and their only common language was English. Through the thinpartition in the station building we could hear plainly every word. Itwas very interesting. Especially did we chortle with delight when theinspector began one of his arguments somewhat as follows:--

"Now the two English who are here. They possess great sums ofwealth"--F. Nudged me delightedly--"and they have weapons to kill, andmuch with which to do things, yet their savage minds--"

It was plain, rank, eavesdropping, but most illuminating, thus to get atfirst hand the Eastern point of view as to ourselves; to hear thebloodless, gentle shell of Indian philosophy described by believers. They discussed the most minute and impractical points, and involvedthemselves in the most uncompromising dilemmas. 

Thus the gist of one argument was as follows: "All sexual intercourse issin, but the race must go forward by means of sexual intercourse;therefore the race is conceived in sin and is sinful; but it is a greatsin for me, as an individual, not to carry forward the race, since theDivine Will decrees that in some way the race is necessary to it. _Therefore_ it would seem that man is in sin whichever way you look atit--"

"But, " interposes the inspector firmly but politely, "is it not possiblethat sexual sin and the sin of opposing Divine Will may be of balance inthe spirit, so that in resisting one sort a man acquires virtue tocommit the other without harm--" And so on for hours. 

At twelve-thirty the safari drifted in. Consider that fact and what itmeant. The plain duty of the headman was, of course, to have seen thatthe men followed us in the day before. But allowing, for the sake ofargument, that this was impossible, and that the men had been forced bythe exhaustion of some of their number to stop and camp, if they hadarisen betimes they should have completed the journey in two hours atmost. That should have brought them in by half-past seven or eighto'clock. But a noon arrival condemned them without the necessity ofargument. They had camped early, had risen very, very late, and haddawdled on the road. 

We ourselves gave the two responsible headmen twenty lashes apiece; thenturned over to them the job of thrashing the rest. Ten per man was theallotment. They expected the punishment; took it gracefully. Some eventhanked us when it was over! The babu disappeared in his station. 

About an hour later he approached us, very deprecating, and handed us atelegram. It was from the district commissioner at Voi ordering us toreport for flogging "porters on the Tsavo Station platform. "

"I am truly sorry, I am truly sorry, " the babu was murmuring at ourelbows. 

"What does this mean?" we demanded of him. 

He produced a thick book. 

"It is in here--the law, " he explained. "You must not flog men on thestation platform. It was my duty to report. "

"How did we know that? Why didn't you tell us?"

"If you had gone there"--he pointed ten feet away to a spot exactly likeall other spots--"it would have been off the platform. Then I hadnothing to say. "

We tried to become angry. 

"But why in blazes couldn't you have told us of that quietly anddecently? We'd have moved. "

"It is the law" He tapped his thick book. 

"But we cannot be supposed to know by heart every law in that book. Whydidn't you warn us before reporting?" we insisted. 

"I am truly sorry, " he repeated. "I hope and trust it will not proveserious. But it is in the book. "

We continued in the same purposeless fashion for a moment or so longer. Then the babu ended the discussion thus, --

"It was my duty. I am truly sorry. Suppose I had not reported and shoulddie to-day, and should go to heaven, and God should ask me, 'Have youdone your duty to-day?' what should I say to Him?"

We gave it up; we were up against Revealed Religion. 

So that night we took a freight train southward to Voi, leaving the babuand his prayer-bell, and his green battle-axe and his conscience alonein the wilderness. We had quite a respect for that babu. 

The district commissioner listened appreciatively to our tale. 

"Of course I shall not carry the matter further, " he told us, "buthaving known the babu, you must see that once he had reported to me Iwas compelled to order you down here. I am sorry for the inconvenience. "

And when we reflected on the cataclysmic upheaval that babu would haveundergone had we not been summoned after breaking one of The Laws in theBook, we had to admit the district commissioner was right. 

PART VI. 

IN MASAILAND. 

XXXIII. 

OVER THE LIKIPIA ESCARPMENT. 

Owing to an outbreak of bubonic plague, and consequent quarantine, wehad recruited our men outside Nairobi, and had sent them, in charge ofC. , to a little station up the line. 

Billy and I saw to the loading of our equipment on the train, and at twoo'clock, in solitary state, set forth. Our only attendants were Mohammedand Memba Sasa, who had been fumigated and inoculated and generallyRed-Crossed for the purpose. 

The little narrow-gauge train doubled and twisted in its climb up therange overlooking Nairobi and the Athi Plains. Fields of corn grew sotall as partially to conceal villages of round, grass-thatched huts withconical roofs; we looked down into deep ravines where grew thebroad-leaved bananas; the steep hillsides had all been carefullycultivated. Savages leaning on spears watched us puff heavily by. Women, richly ornamented with copper wire or beads, toiled along bentunder loads carried by means of a band across the top of the head. [16]Naked children rushed out to wave at us. We were steaming quitecomfortably through Africa as it had been for thousands of years beforethe white man came. 

At Kikuyu Station we came to a halt. Kikuyu Station ordinarily embarksabout two passengers a month, I suppose. Now it was utterly swamped withbusiness, for on it had descended all our safari of thirty-nine men andthree mules. Thirty of the thirty-nine yelled and shrieked and got inthe wrong place, as usual. C. And the train men and the stationmasterand our responsible boys heaved and tugged and directed, ordered, commanded. At length the human element was loaded to its places andlocked in. Then the mules had to be urged up a very narrow gang-lankinto a dangerous-looking car. Quite sensibly they declined to takechances. We persuaded them. The process was quite simple. Two of the menholding the ends at a safe distance stretched a light strong cord acrossthe beasts' hind legs, and sawed it back and forth. 

We clanged the doors shut, climbed aboard, and the train at laststeamed on. Now bits of forest came across our way, deep, shaded, withtrailing curtain vines, and wide leaves as big as table tops, and high, lush, impenetrable undergrowth full of flashing birds, fathomlessshadows, and inquisitive monkeys. Occasionally we emerged to the edge ofa long oval meadow, set in depressions among hills, like our Sierrameadows. Indeed so like were these openings to those in our own woodedmountains that we always experienced a distinct shock of surprise as thefamiliar woods parted to disclose a dark solemn savage with flashingspear. 

We stopped at various stations, and descended and walked about in thegathering shadows of the forest. It was getting cool. Many little thingsattracted our attention, to remain in our memories as isolated pictures. Thus I remember one grave savage squatted by the track playing on a sortof mandoline-shaped instrument. It had two strings, and he twanged thesealternately, without the slightest effort to change their pitch bystopping with his fingers. He bent his head sidewise, and listened withthe meticulous attention of a connoisseur. We stopped at that place forfully ten minutes, but not for a second did he leave off twanging histwo strings, nor did he even momentarily relax his attention. 

It was now near sundown. We had been climbing steadily. The trainshrieked twice, and unexpectedly slid out to the edge of the LikipiaEscarpment. We looked down once more into the great Rift Valley. 

The Rift Valley is as though a strip of Africa--extending half thelength of the continent--had in time past sunk bodily some thousands offeet, leaving a more or less sheer escarpment on either side, andpreserving intact its own variegated landscape in the bottom. We were onthe Likipia Escarpment. We looked across to the Mau Escarpment, wherethe country over which our train had been travelling continued after itsinterruption by the valley. And below us were mountains, streams, plains. The westering sun threw strong slants of light down and across. 

The engine shut off its power, and we slid silently down the rathercomplicated grades and curves of the descent. A noble forest threw itsshadows over us. Through the chance openings we caught glimpses of thepale country far below. Across high trestle bridges we rattled, andcraned over to see the rushing white water of the mountain torrents ahundred feet down. The shriek of our engine echoed and re-echoedweirdly from the serried trunks of trees and from the great cliffs thatseemed to lift themselves as we descended. 

We debarked at Kijabe[17] well after dark. It is situated on a ledge inthe escarpment, is perhaps a quarter-mile wide, and includes nothingmore elaborate than the station, a row of Indian dukkas, and two housesof South Africans set back towards the rise in the cliffs. A mile or soaway, and on a little higher level, stand the extensive buildings of anAmerican mission. It is, I believe, educational as well as sectarian, issituated in one of the most healthful climates of East Africa, and isprosperous. 

At the moment we saw none of these things. We were too busy getting men, mules, and equipment out of the train. Our lanterns flared in the greatwind that swept down the defile; and across the track little firesflared too. Shortly we made the acquaintance of the South Africander whofurnished us our ox teams and wagon; and of a lank, drawling youth whowas to be our "rider. " The latter was very anxious to get started, so wepiled all our stores and equipment but those immediately necessary forthe night aboard the great wagon. Then we returned to the dak-bungalowfor a very belated supper. While eating this we discussed our plans. 

These were in essence very simple. Somewhere south of the Great Thirstof the Sotik a river called the Narossara. Back of the river were highmountains, and down the river were benches dropping off by thousands offeet to the barren country of Lake Magahdi. Over some of this countryranged the Greater Kudu, easily the prize buck of East Africa. Weintended to try for a Greater Kudu. 

People laughed at us. The beast is extremely rare; it ranges over a widearea; it inhabits the thickest sort of cover in a sheer mountainouscountry; its senses are wonderfully acute; and it is very wary. A man_might_, once in a blue moon, get one by happening upon it accidentally, but deliberately to go after it was sheer lunacy. So we were told. As amatter of fact, we thought so ourselves, but Greater Kudu was as good anexcuse as another. 

The most immediate of our physical difficulties was the Thirst. Sixmiles from Kijabe we would leave the Kedong River. After that was nomore water for two days and nights. During that time we should be forcedto travel and rest in alternation day and night, with a great deal oftravel and very little rest. We should be able to carry for the men alimited amount of water on the ox wagon, but the cattle could not drink. It was a hard, anxious grind. A day's journey beyond the first waterafter the Thirst we should cross the Southern Guaso Nyero River. [18]Then two days should land us at the Narossara. There we must leave ourox wagon and push on with our tiny safari. We planned to relay back forporters from our different camps. 

That was our whole plan. Our transport rider's object in starting thisnight was to reach the Kedong River, and there to outspan until ourarrival next day. The cattle would thus get a good feed and rest. Thenat four in the afternoon we would set out to conquer the Thirst. Afterthat it would be a question of travelling to suit the oxen. 

Next morning, when we arose, we found one of the wagon Kikuyus awaitingus. His tale ran that after going four miles, the oxen had beenstampeded by lions. In the mix-up the dusselboom had been broken. Hedemanded a new dusselboom. I looked as wise as though I knew just whatthat meant; and told him largely, to help himself. Shortly he departedcarrying what looked to be the greater part of a forest tree. 

We were in no hurry, so we did not try to get our safari under waybefore eight o'clock. It consisted of twenty-nine porters, thegunbearers, three personal boys, three syces, and the cook. Of this lotsome few stand out from the rest, and deserve particular attention. 

Of course I had my veterans, Memba Sasa and Mohammed. There was alsoKongoni, gunbearer, elsewhere described. The third gunbearer wasMarrouki, a Wakamba. He was the personal gunbearer of a Mr. Twigg, whovery courteously loaned him for this trip as possessing some knowledgeof the country. He was a small person, with stripes about his eyes;dressed in a Scotch highland cap, khaki breeches, and a shooting coatmiles too big for him. His soul was earnest, his courage great, histraining good, his intelligence none too brilliant. Timothy, our cook, was pure Swahili. He was a thin, elderly individual, with a wrinkledbrow of care. This represented a conscientious soul. He tried hard toplease, but he never could quite forget that he had cooked for theGovernor's safari. His air was always one of silent disapproval of ourmodest outfit. So well did he do, however, often under tryingcircumstances, that at the close of the expedition Billy presented himwith a very fancy knife. To her vast astonishment he burst into violentsobs. 

"Why, what is it?" she asked. 

"Oh, memsahib, " he wailed, "I wanted a watch!"

As personal boy Billy had a Masai named Geyeye. [19] The members of thisproud and aristocratic tribe rarely condescend to work for the whiteman; but when they do, they are very fine servants, for they are highlyintelligent. Geyeye was short and very, very ugly. Perhaps this maypartly explain his leaving tribal life, for the Masai generally are oversix feet. 

C. 's man was an educated Coast Swahili named Abba Ali. This individualwas very smart. He wore a neatly-trimmed Vandyke beard, a flannelboating hat, smart tailored khakis, and carried a rattan cane. He wasalert, quick, and intelligent. His position was midway between that ofpersonal boy and headman. 

Of the rank and file we began with twenty-nine. Two changed their mindsbefore we were fairly started, and departed in the night. There was notime to get regular porters; but fortunately a Kikuyu chief detailed twowild savages from his tribe to act as carriers. These two children ofnature drifted in with pleasant smiles and little else saveknick-knacks. From our supplies we gave them two thin jerseys, reachingnearly to the knees. Next day they appeared with broad tucks sewedaround the middle! They looked like "My Mama didn't use wool soap. " Wethen gave it up, and left them free and untrammelled. 

They differed radically. One was past the first enthusiasms and vanitiesof youth. He was small, unobtrusive, unornamented. He had no possessionssave the jersey, the water-bottle, and the blanket we ourselvessupplied. The blanket he crossed bandolier fashion on one shoulder. Ithung down behind like a tasselled sash. His face was little and wizenedand old. He was quiet and uncomplaining, and the "easy mark" for all therest. We had constantly to be interfering to save him from imposition asto too heavy loads, too many jobs, and the like. Nearing the close ofthe long expedition, when our loads were lighter and fewer, one day C. Spoke up. 

"I'm going to give the old man a good time, " said he. "I doubt if he'sever had one before, or if he ever will again. He's that sort of a meekdamnfool. "

So it was decreed that Kimau[20] should carry nothing for the rest ofthe trip, was to do no more work, was to have all he wanted to eat. Itwas a treat to see him. He accepted these things without surprise, without spoken thanks; just as he would have accepted an increasedsupply of work and kicks. Before his little fire he squatted all day, gazing vacantly off into space, or gnawing on a piece of the meat healways kept roasting on sticks. He spoke to no one; he never smiled ordisplayed any obvious signs of enjoyment; but from him radiated afeeling of deep content. 

His companion savage was a young blood, and still affected by thevanities of life. His hair he wore in short tight curls, resembling therope hair of a French poodle, liberally anointed with castor-oil andcoloured with red-paint clay. His body, too, was turned to bronze by thesame method, so that he looked like a beautiful smooth metal statue cometo life. To set this quality off he wore glittering collars, bracelets, and ear ornaments of polished copper and brass. When he joined us hissole costume was a negligent two-foot strip of cotton cloth. After hehad received his official jersey, he carefully tied the cloth over hiswonderful head; nor as far as we knew did he again remove it until theend of the expedition. All his movements were inexpressibly graceful. They reminded one somehow of Flaxman's drawings of the Greek gods. Hisface, too, was good-natured and likeable. A certain half feminine, wildgrace, combined with the queer effect of his headgear, caused us to namehim Daphne. At home he was called Kingangui. At first he carried hisburden after the fashion of savages--on the back; and kept to the rearof the procession; and at evening consorted only with old Lightfoot. Assoon as opportunity offered, he built himself a marvellous iridescentball of marabout feathers. Each of these he split along the quill, sothat they curled and writhed in the wind. This picturesque charm hesuspended from a short pole in front of his tent. Also, he belonged tothe Kikuyu tribe; he ate no game meat, but confined his diet to cornmealporridge. We were much interested in watching Daphne's gradualconversion from savage ways to those of the regular porter. Within twoweeks he was carrying his load on his head or shoulder, and trying tokeep up near the head of the safari. The charm of feathers disappearedshortly after, I am sorry to say. He took his share of the meat. Withintwo months Daphne was imitating as closely as possible the manners andcustoms of his safari mates. But he never really succeeded in lookinganything but the wild and graceful savage he was. 

FOOTNOTES:

[16] After the fashion of the Canadian tump line. 

[17] Pronounce all the syllables. 

[18] An entirely different stream from that flowing north of Mt. Kenia. 

[19] Pronounce _every_ syllable. 

[20] His official name was Lightfoot, Queen of the Fairies, because ofhis ballet-like costume. 

XXXIV. 

TO THE KEDONG. 

For four hours we descended the valley through high thorn scrub or theoccasional grassy openings. We were now in the floor of the Rift Valley, and both along the escarpments and in the floor of the great blue valleyitself mountains were all about us. Most of the large ones wereevidently craters; and everywhere were smaller kopjes or buttes, that intheir day had also served as blow holes for subterranean fires. 

At the end of this time we arrived at the place where we were supposedto find the wagon. No wagon was there. 

The spot was in the middle of a level plain on which grew very scatteredbushes, a great deal like the sparser mesquite growths of Arizona. Towards the Likipia Escarpment, and about half-way to its base, a lineof trees marked the course of the Kedong River. Beyond that, fairlyagainst the mountain, we made out a settler's house. 

Leaving Billy and the safari, C. And I set out for this house. Thedistance was long, and we had not made half of it before thunder cloudsbegan to gather. They came up thick and black behind the escarpment, andrapidly spread over the entire heavens. We found the wagon shortly, still mending its dusselboom, or whatever the thing was. Leavinginstructions for it to proceed to a certain point on the Kedong River, we started back for our safari. 

It rained. In ten minutes the dusty plains, as far as the eye couldreach, were covered with water two or three inches deep, from which thesparse bunches of grasses grew like reeds in a great marshy lake. Wesplashed along with the water over our ankles. The channels made by thegame trails offered natural conduits, and wherever there was the leastgrade they had become rushing brooks. We found the safari verybedraggled. Billy had made a mound of valuables, atop which she perched, her waterproof cape spread as wide as possible, a good deal like abrooding hen. We set out for the meeting-point on the Kedong. In half anhour we had there found a bit of higher ground and had made camp. 

As suddenly as they had gathered the storm clouds broke away. Theexpiring sun sent across the valley a flood of golden light, that gildedthe rugged old mountain of Suswa over the way. 

"Directly on the other side of Suswa, " C. Told me, "there is a 'pan' ofhard clay. This rain will fill it, and we shall find water there. We cantake a night's rest, and set off comfortably in the morning. "

So the rain that had soaked us so thoroughly was a blessing after all. While we were cooking supper the wagon passed us, its wheels and framecreaking, its great whip cracking like a rifle, its men shrieking at theimperturbable team of eighteen oxen. It would travel until the oxenwanted to graze, or sleep, or scratch an ear, or meditate on why is aKikuyu. Thereupon they would be outspanned and allowed to do it, whatever it was, until they were ready to go on again. Then they wouldgo on. These sequences might take place at any time of the day or night, and for greater or lesser intervals of time. That was distinctly up tothe oxen; the human beings had mighty little to say in the matter. Buttransport riding, from the point of view of the rank outsider, reallydeserves a chapter of its own. 

XXXV. 

THE TRANSPORT RIDER. 

The wagon is one evolved in South Africa--a long, heavily-constructedaffair, with ingenious braces and timbers so arranged as to furnish themaximum clearance with the greatest facility for substitution in casethe necessity for repairs might arise. The whole vehicle can bedismounted and reassembled in a few hours; so that unfordable streams orimpossible bits of country can be crossed piecemeal. Its enormous wheelsare set wide apart. The brake is worked by a crank at the rear, like areversal of the starting mechanism of a motor car. Bolted to the frameon either side between the front and rear wheels are capaciouscupboards, and two stout water kegs swing to and fro when the craft isunder way. The net carrying capacity of such a wagon is from three tofour thousand pounds. 

This formidable vehicle, in our own case, was drawn by a team ofeighteen oxen. The biggest brutes, the wheelers, were attached to atongue, all the others pulled on a long chain. The only harness was thepronged yoke that fitted just forward of the hump. Over rough countrythe wheelers were banged and jerked about savagely by the tongue; theydid not seem to mind it but exhibited a certain amount of intelligencein manipulation. 

To drive these oxen we had one white man named Brown, and two smallKikuyu savages. One of these worked the brake crank in the rear whilethe other preceded the lead cattle. Brown exercised general supervision, a long-lashed whip and Boer-Dutch expletives and admonitions. 

In transport riding, as this game is called, there is required a greatamount of especial skill though not necessarily a high degree ofintelligence. Along the flats all goes well enough, but once in theunbelievable rough country of a hill trek the situation alters. A manmust know cattle and their symptoms. It is no light feat to wake upeighteen sluggish bovine minds to the necessity for effort, and then tothrow so much dynamic energy into the situation that the whole eighteenwill begin to pull at once. That is the secret, unanimity; an ox is themost easily discouraged working animal on earth. If the first threecouples begin to haul before the others have aroused to their effort, they will not succeed in budging the wagon an inch, but after a moment'sstruggle will give up completely. By that time the leaders respond tothe command and throw themselves forward in the yoke. In vain. Theycannot pull the wagon and their wheel comrades too. Therefore they giveup. By this time, perhaps, the lash has aroused the first lot to anothereffort. And so they go, pulling and hauling against each other, gettingnowhere, until the end is an exhausted team, a driver half insane, and agreat necessity for unloading. 

A good driver, on the other hand, shrieks a few premonitory Dutchwords--and then! I suppose inside those bovine heads the effect issomewhat that of a violent electric explosion. At any rate it hits themall at once, and all together, in response, they surge against theiryokes. The heavily laden wagon creaks, groans, moves forward. Thehurricane of Dutch and the volleys of whip crackings rise to acrescendo. We are off!

To perform just this little simple trick of getting the thing startedrequires not only a peculiar skill or gift, but also lungs of brass anda throat of iron. A transport rider without a voice is as a tenor in thesame fix. He may--and does--get so hoarse that it is a pain to hear him;but as long as he can croak in good volume he is all right. Mereshouting will not do. He must shriek, until to the sympathetic bystanderit seems that his throat must split wide open. Furthermore, he mustshriek the proper things. It all sounds alike to every one but transportriders and oxen; but as a matter of fact it is Boer-Dutch, nicelyassorted to suit different occasions. It is incredible that oxen shoulddistinguish; but, then, it is also incredible that trout shoulddistinguish the nice differences in artificial flies. 

After the start has been made successfully, the craft must be kept underway. To an unbiassed bystander the whole affair looks insane. The wagoncreaks and sways and groans and cries aloud as it bumps over greatboulders in the way; the leading Kikuyu dances nimbly and shrillsremarks at the nearest cattle; the tail Kikuyu winds energetically backand forth on his little handle, and tries to keep his feet. And Brown!he is magnificent! His long lash sends out a volley of rifle reports, down, up, ahead, back; his cracked voice roars out an unending streamof apparent gibberish. Back and forth along the line of the team heskips nimbly, the sweat streaming from his face. And the oxen plodalong, unhasting, unexcited, their eyes dreamy, chewing the cud ofyesterday's philosophic reflections. The situation conveys the generalimpression of a peevish little stream breaking against great calmcliffs. All this frantic excitement and expenditure of energy is soapparently purposeless and futile, the calm cattle seem so aloof andsuperior to it all, so absolutely unaffected by it. They are goingslowly, to be sure; their gait may be maddeningly deliberate, butevidently they do not intend to be hurried. Why not let them take theirown speed?

But all this hullabaloo means something after all. It does its business, and the top of the boulder-strewn hill is gained. Without it the wholeconcern would have stopped, and then the wagon would have to be unloadedbefore a fresh start could have been made. Results with cattle are notshown by facial expression nor by increased speed, but simply bycontinuance. They will plod up steep hills or along the level at thesame placid gait. Only in the former case they require especialtreatment. 

In case the wagon gets stuck on a hill, as will occasionally happen, sothat all the oxen are discouraged at once, we would see one of theKikuyus leading the team back and forth, back and forth, on the sidehill just ahead of the wagon. This is to confuse their minds, cause themto forget their failure, and thus to make another attempt. 

At one stretch we had three days of real mountains. N'gombe[21] Brownshrieked like a steam calliope all the way through. He lasted thedistance, but had little camp-fire conversation even with his belovedKikuyus. 

When the team is outspanned, which in the waterless country of forcedmarches is likely to be almost any time of the day or night, N'gombeBrown sought a little rest. For this purpose he had a sort of bunk thatlet down underneath the wagon. If it were daytime, the cattle wereallowed to graze under supervision of one of the Kikuyus. If it wasnight time they were tethered to the long chain, where they lay in asomnolent double row. A lantern at the head of the file and one at thewagon's tail were supposed to discourage lions. In a bad lion countryfires were added to these defences. 

N'gombe Brown thus worked hard through varied and long hours in strictintimacy with stupid and exasperating beasts. After working hours heliked to wander out to watch those same beasts grazing! His mind was asfull of cattle as that! Although we offered him reading matter, he neverseemed to care for it, nor for long-continued conversation with whitepeople not of his trade. In fact the only gleam of interest I could getout of him was by commenting on the qualities or peculiarities of theoxen. He had a small mouth-organ on which he occasionally performed, andwould hold forth for hours with his childlike Kikuyus. In theintelligence to follow ordinary directions he was an infant. We had toiterate and reiterate in words of one syllable our directions as toroutes and meeting-points, and then he was quite as apt to go wrong asright. Yet, I must repeat, he knew thoroughly all the ins and outs of avery difficult trade, and understood, as well, how to keep his cattlealways fit and in good condition. In fact he was a little hipped on whatthe "dear n'gombes" should or should not be called upon to do. 

One incident will illustrate all this better than I could explain it. When we reached the Narossara River we left the wagon and pushed onafoot. We were to be gone an indefinite time, and we left N'gombe Brownand his outfit very well fixed. Along the Narossara ran a pleasant shadystrip of high jungle; the country about was clear and open; but mostimportant of all, a white man of education and personal charm occupied atrading boma, or enclosure, near at hand. An accident changed our plansand brought us back unexpectedly at the end of a few weeks. We foundthat N'gombe Brown had trekked back a long day's journey, and wasencamped alone at the end of a spur of mountains. We sent native runnersafter him. He explained his change of base by saying that the cattlefeed was a little better at his new camp! Mind you this: at theNarossara the feed was quite good enough, the oxen were doing no work, there was companionship, books, papers, and even a phonograph to whileaway the long weeks until our return. N'gombe Brown quite cheerfullydeserted all this to live in solitude where he imagined the feed to bemicroscopically better!

FOOTNOTES:

[21] N'gombe = oxen. 

XXXVI. 

ACROSS THE THIRST. 

We were off, a bright, clear day after the rains. Suswa hung grayishpink against the bluest of skies. Our way slanted across the Rift Valleyto her base, turned the corner, and continued on the other side of thegreat peak until we had reached the rainwater "pan" on her farther side. It was a long march. 

The plains were very wide and roomy. Here and there on them rose manysmall cones and craters, lava flows and other varied evidences of recentvolcanic activity. Geologically recent, I mean. The grasses of theflowing plains were very brown, and the molehill craters very dark; thelarger craters blasted and austere; the higher escarpment in thebackground blue with a solemn distance. The sizes of things were notoriginally fitted out for little tiny people like human beings. Wewalked hours to reach landmarks apparently only a few miles away. 

In this manner we crept along industriously until noon, by which time wehad nearly reached the shoulder of Suswa, around which we had to double. The sun was strong, and the men not yet hardened to the work. We hadmany stragglers. After lunch Memba Sasa and I strolled along on a routeflanking that of the safari, looking for the first of our meat supply. Within a short time I had killed a Thompson's gazelle. Some solemngiraffes looked on at the performance, and then moved off likemechanical toys. 

The day lengthened. We were in the midst of wonderful scenery. Ourobjection grew to be that it took so long to put any of it behind us. Insensibly, however, we made progress. Suddenly, as it seemed, we foundourselves looking at the other side of Suswa, and various brand-newlittle craters had moved up to take the places of our old friends. Atlast, about half-past four, we topped the swell of one of the numerousand interminable land billows that undulate across all plains countrieshere, and saw a few miles away the wagon outspanned. We reached it aboutsunset, to be greeted by the welcome news that there was indeed water inthe pan. 

We unsaddled just before dark, and I immediately started towards thegame herds, many of which were grazing a half-mile away. The gazellewould supply our own larder, but meat for hard-worked man was verydesirable. I shot a hartebeeste, made the prearranged signal for men tocarry meat, and returned to camp. 

Even yet the men were not all in. We took lanterns and returned alongthe road, for the long marches under a desert sun are no joke. At lastwe had accounted for all but two. These we had to abandon. Next day wefound their loads, but never laid eyes on them again. Thus early ourtwenty-nine became twenty-seven. 

About nine o'clock, just as we were turning, a number of lions began toroar. Usually a lion roars once or twice by way of satisfaction afterleaving a kill. These, however, were engaged in driving game, and hencetrying to make as much noise as possible. We distinguished plainly sevenindividuals, perhaps more. The air trembled with the sound as to thedeepest tones of a big organ, only the organ is near and enclosed, whilethese vibrations were in the open air and remote. For a few moments thegreat salvos would boom across the veld, roll after roll of thunder;then would ensue a momentary dead silence; then a single voice wouldopen, to be joined immediately by the others. 

We awoke next day to an unexpected cold drizzle. This was a bituncomfortable, from one point of view, and most unusual, but it robbedthe thirst of its terrors. We were enabled to proceed leisurely, and toget a good sleep near water every night. The wagon had, as usual, pulledout some time during the night. 

Our way led over a succession of low rolling ridges each higher than itspredecessor. Game herds fed in the shallow valleys between. At about teno'clock we came to the foot of the Mau Escarpment, and also to theunexpected sight of the wagon outspanned. N'gombe Brown explained to usthat the oxen had refused to proceed farther in face of a number oflions that came around to sniff at them. Then the rain had come on, andhe had been unwilling to attempt the Mau while the footing was slippery. This sounded reasonable; in fact, it was still reasonable. The grass washere fairly neck high, and we found a rain-filled water-hole. Thereforewe decided to make camp. C. And I wandered out in search of game. Wetramped a great deal of bold, rugged country, both in cañon bottoms andalong the open ridges, but found only a rhinoceros, one bush-buck and adozen hartebeeste. African game, as a general rule, avoids a countrywhere the grass grows very high. We enjoyed, however, some bold andwonderful mountain scenery, and obtained glimpses through the flyingmurk of the vast plains and the base of Suswa. On a precipitous cañoncliff we found a hanging garden of cactus and of looped cactus-likevines that was a marvel to behold. We ran across the hartebeeste on ourway home. Our men were already out of meat; the hartebeeste of yesterdayhad disappeared. These porters are a good deal like the old-fashionedMichigan lumberjacks--they take a good deal of feeding for the first fewdays. When we came upon the little herd in the neck-high grass, I took ashot. At the report the animal went down flat. We wandered over slowly. Memba Sasa whetted his knife and walked up. Thereupon Mr. Hartebeestejumped to his feet, flirted his tail gaily, and departed. We followedhim a mile or so, but he got stronger and gayer every moment, until atlast he frisked out of the landscape quite strong and hearty. In all myAfrican experience I lost only six animals hit by bullets, as I tookinfinite pains and any amount of time to hunt down wounded beasts. Thisanimal was, I think, "creased" by too high a shot. Certainly he was notmuch injured; but certainly he got a big shock to start with. 

The little herd had gone on. I got down and crawled on hands and kneesin the thick grass. It was slow work, and I had to travel by landmarks. When I finally reckoned I had about reached the proper place, I stood upsuddenly, my rifle at ready. So dense was the cover and so still the airthat I had actually crawled right into the middle of the band! While wewere cutting up the meat the sun broke through strongly. 

Therefore the wagon started on up the Mau at six o'clock. Twelve hourslater we followed. The fine drizzle had set in again. We were very gladthe wagon had taken advantage of the brief dry time. 

From the top of the sheer rise we looked back for the last time over thewonderful panorama of the Rift Valley. Before us were wide rounded hillscovered with a scattered small growth that in general appearanceresembled scrub oak. It sloped away gently until it was lost in mists. Later, when these cleared, we saw distant blue mountains across atremendous shallow basin. We were nearly on a level with the summit ofSuswa itself, nor did we again drop much below that altitude. Afterfive or six miles we overtook the wagon outspanned. The projectedall-night journey had again been frustrated by the lions. These beastshad proved so bold and menacing that finally the team had been forced tostop in sheer self-defence. However, the day was cool and overcast, sonothing was lost. 

After topping the Mau we saw a few gazelle, zebra, and hartebeeste, butsoon plunged into a bush country quite destitute of game. We wereparalleling the highest ridge of the escarpment, and so alternatedbetween the crossing of cañons and the travelling along broad ridgesbetween them. In lack of other amusement for a long time I rode with thewagon. The country was very rough and rocky. Everybody was excited tothe point of frenzy, except the wagon. It had a certain Dutch stolidityin its manner of calmly and bumpily surmounting such portions of thelandscape as happened in its way. 

After a very long, tiresome march we camped above a little stream. Barring our lucky rain this would have been the first water sinceleaving the Kedong River. Here were hundreds of big blue pigeonsswooping in to their evening drink. 

For two days more we repeated this sort of travel, but always with goodcamps at fair-sized streams. Gradually we slanted away from the mainridge, though we still continued cross-cutting the swells and ravinesthrown off its flanks. Only the ravines hour by hour became shallower, and the swells lower and broader. On their tops the scrub sometimes gaveway to openings of short grass. On these fed a few gazelle of bothsorts, and an occasional zebra or so. We saw also four topi, a beastabout the size of our wapiti, built on the general specifications of ahartebeeste, but with the most beautiful iridescent plum-coloured coat. This quartette was very wild. I made three separate stalks on them, butthe best I could do was 360 paces, at which range I missed. 

Finally we surmounted the last low swell to look down a wide and slopingplain to the depression in which flowed the principal river of theseparts, the Southern Guaso Nyero. Beyond it stretched the immenseoceanlike plains of the Loieta, from which here and there rose isolatedhills, very distant, like lonesome ships at sea. A little to the left, also very distant, we could make out an unbroken blue range ofmountains. These were our ultimate destination. 

XXXVII. 

THE SOUTHERN GUASO NYERO. 

The Southern Guaso Nyero, unlike its northern namesake, is a sluggish, muddy stream, rather small, flowing between abrupt clay banks. Fartherdown it drops into great cañons and eroded abysses, and acquires acertain grandeur. But here, at the ford of Agate's Drift, it isdecidedly unimpressive. Scant greenery ornaments its banks. In fact, atmost places they run hard and baked to a sheer drop-off of ten orfifteen feet. Scattered mimosa trees and aloes mark its course. Theearth for a mile or so is trampled by thousands of Masai cattle that atcertain seasons pass through the funnel of this, the only ford formiles. Apparently insignificant, it is given to sudden, tremendousrises. These originate in the rainfalls of the upper Mau Escarpment, many miles away. It behooves the safari to cross promptly if it can, and to camp always on the farther bank. 

This we did, pitching our tents in a little opening, between clumps ofpretty flowering aloes and the mimosas. Here, as everywhere in thiscountry, until we had passed the barrier of the Narossara mountains, thecommon horseflies were a plague. They follow the Masai cattle. I cangive you no better idea of their numbers than to tell you two isolatedfacts: I killed twenty-one at one blow; and in the morning, beforesunrise, the apex of our tent held a solid black mass of the creaturesrunning the length of the ridge pole, and from half an inch to twoinches deep! Every pack was black with them on the march, and the wagoncarried its millions. When the shadow of a branch would cross thatslowly lumbering vehicle, the swarm would rise and bumble arounddistractedly for a moment before settling down again. They fairly made animbus of darkness. 

After we had made camp we saw a number of Masai warriors hovering aboutthe opposite bank, but they did not venture across. Some of their womendid, however, and came cheerily into camp. These most interesting peopleare worth more than a casual word, so I shall reserve my observationson them until a later chapter. One of our porters, a big Baganda namedSabakaki, was suffering severely from pains in the chest thatsubsequently developed into pleurisy. From the Masai women we tried tobuy some of the milk they carried in gourds; at first they seemed notaverse, but as soon as they realized the milk was not for our ownconsumption, they turned their backs on poor Sabakaki and refused tohave anything more to do with us. 

These Masai are very difficult to trade with. Their only willing barteris done in sheep. These they seem to consider legitimate objects ofcommerce. A short distance from our camp stood three whitewashed roundhouses with thatched, conical roofs, the property of a trader namedAgate. He was away at the time of our visit. 

After an early morning, but vain, attempt to get Billy a shot at alion[22] we set out for our distant blue mountains. The day was ajourney over plains of great variegation. At times they were coveredwith thin scrub; at others with small groves; or again, they were openand grassy. Always they undulated gently, so from their tops one neversaw as far as he thought he was going to see. As landmark we steered bya good-sized butte named Donga Rasha. 

Memba Sasa and I marched ahead on foot. In this thin scrub we gotglimpses of many beasts. At one time we were within fifty yards of aband of magnificent eland. By fleeting glimpses we saw also manywildebeeste and zebra, with occasionally one of the smaller grassantelope. Finally, in an open glade we caught sight of something tawnyshowing in the middle of a bush. It was too high off the ground to be abuck. We sneaked nearer. At fifty yards we came to a halt, stillpuzzled. Judging by its height and colour, it should be a lion, but tryas we would we could not make out what part of his anatomy was thusvisible. At last I made up my mind to give him a shot from theSpringfield, with the ·405 handy. At the shot the tawny patch heaved andlay still. We manoeuvred cautiously, and found we had killed stone deadnot a lion, but a Bohur reed-buck lying atop an ant hill concealed inthe middle of the bush. This accounted for its height above the ground. As it happened, I very much wanted one of these animals as a specimen, so everybody was satisfied. 

Shortly after, attracted by a great concourse of carrion birds, both ontrees and in the air, we penetrated a thicket to come upon a full-growngiraffe killed by lions. The claw marks and other indications wereindubitable. The carcass had been partly eaten, but was rapidlyvanishing under the attacks of the birds. 

Just before noon we passed Donga Rasha and emerged on the open plains. Here I caught sight of some Roberts' gazelle, a new species to me, andstarted alone in pursuit. They, as usual, trotted over the nearest rise, so with due precautions I followed after. At the top of that rise I laystill in astonishment. Before me marched solemnly an unbroken singlefile of game, reaching literally to my limit of vision in bothdirections. They came over the land swell a mile to my left, and theywere disappearing over another land swell a mile and a half to my right. It was rigidly single file, except for the young; the nose of one beastfairly touching the tail of the one ahead, and it plodded along at abusinesslike walk. There were but three species represented--the gnu, the zebra, and the hartebeeste. I did not see the head of theprocession, for it had gone from sight before I arrived; nor did I eversee the tail of it either, for the safari appearing inopportunely brokeits continuance. But I saw two miles and a half, solid, of big game. Itwas a great and formal trek, probably to new pastures. 

Then I turned my attention to the Roberts' gazelle, and my good luckdowned a specimen at 273 yards. This, with the Bohur reed-buck, made thesecond new species for the day. Our luck was not yet over, however. Wehad proceeded but a few miles when Kongoni discovered a herd of topi. The safari immediately lay down, while I went ahead. There was littlecover, and I had a very hard time to get within range, especially as adozen zebras kept grazing across the line of my stalks. The topithemselves were very uneasy, crossing and recrossing and lookingdoubtfully in my direction. I had a number of chances at small bucks, but refused them in my desire to get a shot at the big leader of theherd. Finally he separated from the rest and faced in my direction atjust 268 yards. At the shot he fell dead. 

For the first time we had an opportunity to admire the wonderful pelt. It is beautiful in quality, plum colour, with iridescent lights and wavy"water marks" changing to pearl colour on the four quarters, with blacklegs. We were both struck with the gorgeousness of a topi motor-rug madeof three skins, with these pearl spots as accents in the corners. Toour ambitions and hopes we added more topi. 

Our journey to the Narossara River lasted three days in all. We gainedan outlying spur of the blue mountains, and skirted their base. Theusual varied foothill country led us through defiles, over ridges, andby charming groves. We began to see Masai cattle in great herds. Thegentle humpbacked beasts were held in close formation by herders afoot, tall, lithe young savages with spears. In the distance and through theheat haze the beasts shimmered strangely, their glossy reds and whitesand blacks blending together. In this country of wide expanses and clearair we could thus often make out a very far-off herd simply as a speckof rich colour against the boundless rolling plains. 

Here we saw a good variety of game. Zebras, of course, and hartebeeste;the Roberts' gazelle, a few topi, a good many of the gnu or wildebeestediscovered and named by Roosevelt; a few giraffes, klipspringer on therocky buttes, cheetah, and the usual jackals, hyenas, etc. I killed onevery old zebra. So ancient was he that his teeth had worn down to thelevel of the gums, which seemed fairly on the point of closing over. Nevertheless he was still fat and sleek. He could not much longer havecontinued to crop the grass. Such extreme age in wild animals is, inAfrica at least, most remarkable, for generally they meet violent deathswhile still in their prime. 

About three o'clock of the third afternoon we came in sight of a longline of forest trees running down parallel with the nearest mountainranges. These marked the course of the Narossara, and by four o'clock wewere descending the last slope. 

FOOTNOTES:

[22] See "The Land of Footprints. "

XXXVIII. 

THE LOWER BENCHES. 

The Narossara is really only about creek size, but as it flows the wholeyear round it merits the title of river. It rises in the junction of along spur with the main ranges, cuts straight across a wide inward bendof the mountains, joins them again, plunges down a deep and tremendouscañon to the level of a second bench below great cliffs, meanderspeacefully in flowery meadows and delightful glades for some miles, andthen once more, and most unexpectedly, drops eighteen hundred feet bywaterfall and precipitous cascade to join the Southern Guaso Nyero. Thecountry around this junction is some of the roughest I saw in Africa. 

We camped at the spot where the river ran at about its maximum distancefrom the mountains. Our tents were pitched beneath the shade of tall andrefreshing trees. 

A number of Masai women visited us, laughing and joking with Billy intheir quizzically humorous fashion. Just as we were sitting down attable an Englishman wandered out of the greenery and approached. He wasa small man with a tremendous red beard, wore loose garments and tennisshoes, and strolled up, his hands in his pockets and smoking acigarette. This was V. , a man of whom we had heard. A member of ahistorical family, officer in a crack English regiment, he had resignedeverything to come into this wild country. Here he had built a boma, orenclosed compound, and engaged himself in acquiring Masai sheep inexchange for beads, wire, and cloth. Obviously the profits of suchtransactions could not be the temptation. He liked the life, and heliked his position of influence with these proud and savage people. Strangely enough, he cared little for the sporting possibilities of thecountry, though of course he did a little occasional shooting; but wasquite content with his trading, his growing knowledge of and intimacywith the Masai, and his occasional tremendous journeys. To the casualand infrequent stranger his attitude was reported most uncertain. 

We invited him to tea, which he accepted, and we fell intoconversation. He and C. Were already old acquaintances. The man, Ifound, was shy about talking of the things that interested him; but asthey most decidedly interested us also we managed to convey animpression of our sincerity. Thereafter he was most friendly. Hishelpfulness, kindness, and courtesy could not have been bettered. Helent us his own boy as guide down through the cañons of the Narossara tothe Lower Benches, where we hoped to find kudu; he offered store-room tosuch of our supplies as we intended holding in reserve; he sent us sheepand eggs as a welcome variety to our game diet; and in addition he gaveus Masai implements and ornaments we could not possibly have acquired inany other way. It is impossible to buy the personal belongings of thisproud and independent people at any price. The price of a spearordinarily runs about two rupees' worth, when one trades with any othertribe. I know of a case where a Masai was offered fifty rupees for hisweapon, but refused scornfully. V. Acquired these things throughfriendship; and after we had gained his, he was most generous with them. Thus he presented us with a thing almost impossible to get and seenrarely outside of museums--the Masai war bonnet, made of the mane of alion. It is in shape and appearance, though not in colour, almostexactly like the grenadier's shako of the last century. In addition tothis priceless trophy, V. Also gave us samples of the cattle bells, bothwooden and metal, ivory ear ornaments, bead bracelets, steel collars, circumcision knives, sword belts, and other affairs of like value. But Ithink that the _apogée_ of his kindliness was reached when much later heheard from the native tribes that we were engaged in penetrating thedefiles of the higher mountains. Then he sent after us a swift Masairunner bearing to us a bottle of whisky and a message to the effect thatV. Was afraid we would find it very cold up there! Think of what thatmeant; turn it well over in your mind, with all the circumstances ofdistance from supplies, difficulty of transportation and all! We none ofus used whisky in the tropics, so we later returned it with a suitableexplanation and thanks as being too good to waste. 

Next morning, under guidance of our friend's boy, we set out for theLower Benches, leaving N'gombe Brown and his outfit to camp indefinitelyuntil we needed him for the return journey. 

The whole lie of the land hereabout is, roughly speaking, in a series ofshelves. Behind us were the high mountains--the Fourth Bench; we hadbeen travelling on the plateau of the Loieta--the Third Bench; now wewere to penetrate some apparently low hills down an unexpected thousandfeet to the Second Bench. This was smaller, perhaps only five miles atits widest. Its outer rim consisted also of low hills concealing a dropof precipitous cliffs. There were no passes nor cañons here--the streamsdropped over in waterfalls--and precarious game trails offered the onlychance for descent. The First Bench was a mere ledge, a mile or so wide. From it one looked down into the deep gorge of the Southern Guaso Nyero, and across to a tangle of eroded mountains and malpais that filled theeye. Only far off in an incredible distance were other blue mountainsthat marked the other side of the great Rift Valley. 

Our present task was to drop from the Third Bench to the Second. Forsome distance we followed the Narossara; then, when it began to dropinto its tremendous gorge, we continued along the hillsides above ituntil, by means of various "hogs' backs" and tributary cañons, we wereable to regain its level far below. The going was rough and stony, andhard on the porters, but the scenery was very wild and fine. We met theriver bottom again in the pleasantest oval meadow with fine big trees. The mountains quite surrounded us, towering imminent above our heads. Ahead of us the stream broke through between portals that rose the fullheight of the ranges. We followed it, and found ourselves on the SecondBench. 

Here was grass, high grass in which the boys were almost lost to sight. Behind us the ramparts rose sheer and high, and over across the way weresome low fifty-foot cliffs that marked a plateau land. Between theplateau and the ranges from which we had descended was a sort of slightflat valley through which meandered the forest trees that marked thestream. 

We turned to the right and marched an hour. The river graduallyapproached the plateau, thus leaving between it and the ramparts aconsiderable plain, and some low foothills. These latter were reportedto be one of the feeding grounds of the greater kudu. 

We made a most delightful camp at the edge of great trees by the stream. The water flowed at the bottom of a little ravine, precipitous in mostplaces, but with gently sloping banks at the spot we had chosen. Itflowed rapidly over clean gravel, with a hurrying, tinkling sound. Abroad gravel beach was spread on the hither side of it, like a spacioussecret room in the jungle. Here too was a clear little slope on which tosit, with the thicket all about, the clean, swift little stream below, the high forest arches above, and the inquisitive smaller creatureshovering near. Others had been here before us, the wild things, takingadvantage of the easy descent to drinking water--eland, buffalo, leopard, and small bucks. The air was almost cloyingly sweet with aperfume like sage-brush honey. 

Our first task was to set our boys to work clearing a space; the grasswas so high and rank that mere trampling had little effect on it. TheBaganda, Sabakaki, we had been compelled to leave with the ox team. Soour twenty-seven had become twenty-six. 

Next morning C. And I started out very early with one gunbearer. Thedirection of the wind compelled us to a two hours' walk before we couldbegin to hunt. The high grass was soaked with a very heavy dew, andshortly we were as wet as though we had fallen into the river. A numberof hornbills and parrots followed us for some distance, but soon left usin peace. We saw the Roberts' gazelle and some hartebeeste. 

When we had gained a point of vantage, we turned back and began to workslowly along the base of the mountains. We kept on a general level ahundred feet or so up their slope, just high enough to give us a pointof overlook for anything that might stir either in the flat plateaufoothills or the plains. We also kept a sharp lookout for signs. 

We had proceeded in this manner for an hour when in an opening betweentwo bushes below us, and perhaps five hundred yards away, we saw aleopard standing like a statue, head up, a most beautiful spectacle. While we watched her through the glasses, she suddenly dropped flat outof sight. The cause we discovered to be three hartebeeste strollingsociably along, stopping occasionally to snatch a mouthful, but headedalways in the direction of the bushes behind which lay the great cat. Much interested, we watched them. They disappeared behind the screen. Asudden flash marked the leopard's spring. Two badly demoralizedhartebeeste stamped out into the open and away; two only. The kill hadbeen made. 

We had only the one rifle with us, for we were supposed to be out afterkudu only, and were travelling as light as possible. No doubt theSpringfield would kill a leopard, if the bullet landed in the rightplace. We discussed the matter. It ended, of course, in our sneakingdown there; I with the Springfield, and C. With his knife unsheathed. Our precautions and trepidations were wasted. The leopard had carriedthe hartebeeste bodily some distance, had thrust it under a bush, andhad departed. C. Surmised it would return towards evening. 

Therefore we continued after kudu. We found old signs, proving that thebeasts visited this country, but nothing fresh. We saw, however, thefirst sing-sing, some impalla, some klipspringer, and Chanler'sreed-buck. 

At evening we made a crafty stalk atop the mesa-like foothills to apoint overlooking the leopard's kill. We lay here looking the place overinch by inch through our glasses, when an ejaculation of disgust fromKongoni called our attention. There at another spot that confoundedbeast sat like a house cat watching us cynically. Either we had come toosoon, or she had heard us and retired to what she considered a safedistance. There was of course no chance of getting nearer; so I satdown, for a steadier hold, and tried her anyway. At the shot she leapedhigh in the air, rolled over once, then recovered her feet and streakedoff at full speed. Just before disappearing over a slight rise, shestopped to look back. I tried her again. We concluded this shot a miss, as the distance and light were such that only sheer luck could havelanded the bullet. However, that luck was with us. Later developmentsshowed that both shots had hit. One cut a foreleg, but without breakinga bone, and the other had hit the paunch. One was at 380 paces and theother at 490. 

We found blood on the trail, and followed it a hundred yards and over asmall ridge to a wide patch of high grass. It was now dark, the grasswas very high, and the animal probably desperate. The situation did notlook good to us, badly armed as we were. So we returned to camp, resolved to take up the trail again in the morning. 

Every man in camp turned out next day to help beat the grass. C. , withthe ·405, stayed to direct and protect the men; while I, with theSpringfield, sat down at the head of the ravine. Soon I could hear theshrieks, rattles, shouts, and whistles of the line of men as they beatthrough the grass. Small grass bucks and hares bounded past me; birdscame whirring by. I sat on a little ant hill spying as hard as I couldin all directions. Suddenly the beaters fell to dead silence. Guessingthis as a signal to me that the beast had been seen, I ran to climb ahigher ant hill to the left. From there I discerned the animal plainly, sneaking along belly to earth, exactly in the manner of a cat after asparrow. It was not a woods-leopard, but the plains-leopard, or cheetah, supposed to be a comparatively harmless beast. 

At my shot she gave one spring forward and rolled over into the grass. The nearest porters yelled, and rushed in. I ran, too, as fast as Icould, but was not able to make myself heard above the row. An instantlater the beast came to its feet with a savage growl and charged thenearest of the men. She was crippled, and could not move as quickly asusual, but could hobble along faster than her intended victim could run. This was a tall and very conceited Kavirondo. He fled, but ran around incircles in and out of his excited companions. The cheetah followed him, and him only, with most single-minded purpose. 

I dared not shoot while men were in the line of fire even on the otherside of the cheetah, for I knew the high-power bullet would at thatrange go right on through, and I fairly split my throat trying to clearthe way. It seemed five minutes, though it was probably only as manyseconds, before I got my chance. It was high time. The cheetah hadreared to strike the man down. [23] My shot bowled her over. She jumpedto her feet again, made another dash at the thoroughly scared Kavirondo, and I killed her just at his coat-tails. 

The cheetahs ordinarily are supposed to be cowards, although their sizeand power are equal to that of other leopards. Nobody is afraid of them. Yet this particular animal charged with all the ferocity anddetermination of the lion, and would certainly have killed or badlymauled my man. [24] To be sure it had been wounded, and had had all nightto think about it. 

In the relief from the tension we all burst into shrieks of laughter;all except the near-victim of the scrimmage, who managed only a sicklysmile. Our mirth was short. Out from a thicket over a hundred yards awaywalked one of the men, who had been in no way involved in the fight, calmly announcing that he had been shot. We were sceptical, but heturned his back and showed us the bullet hole at the lower edge of theribs. One of my bullets, after passing through the cheetah, hadricocheted and picked this poor fellow out from the whole of an emptylandscape. And this after I had delayed my rescue fairly to the point ofdanger in order to avoid all chance of hurting some one!

We had no means of telling how deeply the bullet had penetrated; so wereassured the man, and detailed two men to assist him back to camp byeasy stages. He did not seem to be suffering much pain, and he had lostlittle strength. 

At camp, however, we found that the wound was deep. C. Generouslyoffered to make a forced march in order to get the boy out to ahospital. By hitting directly across the rough country below the benchesit was possible to shorten the journey somewhat, provided V. Couldpersuade the Masai to furnish a guide. The country was a desert, and thewater scarce. We lined up our remaining twenty-six men and selected thetwelve best and strongest. These we offered a month and a half's extrawages for the trip. We then made a hammock out of one of the groundcloths, and the same afternoon C. Started. I sent with him four of myown men as far as the ox-wagon for the purpose of bringing back moresupplies. They returned the next afternoon bringing also a report fromC. That all was well so far, and that he had seen a lion. He made thedesert trip without other casualty than the lost of his riding mule, andlanded the wounded man in the hospital all right. In spite of C. 'sexpert care on the journey out, and the best of treatment later, theboy, to my great distress, died eleven days after reaching the hospital. C. Was gone just two weeks. 

In the meantime I sent out my best trackers in all directions to lookfor kudu signs, conceiving this the best method of covering the countryrapidly. In this manner I shortly determined that chances were smallhere, and made up my mind to move down to the edge of the bench wherethe Narossara makes its plunge. Before doing so, however, I hunted forand killed a very large eland bull reported by Mavrouki. This beast wasnot only one of the largest I ever saw, but was in especially fine coat. He stood five feet six inches high at the shoulder; was nine feet eightinches long, without the tail; and would weigh twenty-five hundredpounds. The men were delighted with this acquisition. I now had fourteenporters, the three gunbearers, the cook, and the two boys. Theysurrounded each tiny fire with switches full of roasting meat; they cutoff great hunks for a stew; they made quantities of biltong, or jerky. 

Next day I left Kongoni and one porter at the old camp, loaded my menwith what they could carry, and started out. We marched a little overtwo hours; then found ourselves beneath a lone mimosa tree about aquarter-mile from the edge of the bench. At this point the stream dropsinto a little cañon preparatory to its plunge; and the plateau risesever so gently in tremendous cliffs. I immediately dispatched theporters back for another load. A fine sing-sing lured me across theriver. I did not get the sing-sing, but had a good fight with two lions, as narrated elsewhere. [A]

In this spot we camped a number of days; did a heap of hard climbing andspying; killed another lion out of a band of eight;[25] thoroughlydetermined that we had come at the wrong time for kudu, and decided onanother move. 

This time our journey lasted five hours, so that our relaying consumedthree days. We broke back through the ramparts, by means of anotherpass we had discovered when looking for kudu, to the Third Bench again. Here we camped in the valley of Lengeetoto. 

This valley is one of the most beautiful and secluded in this part ofAfrica. It is shaped like an ellipse, five or six miles long by aboutthree miles wide, and is completely surrounded by mountains. Theramparts of the western side--those forming the walls of the FourthBench--rise in sheer rock cliffs, forest crowned. To the east, fromwhich direction we had just come, were high, rounded mountains. Atsunrise they cut clear in an outline of milky slate against the sky. 

The floor of this ellipse was surfaced in gentle undulations, like thelow swells of a summer sea. Between each swell a singing, clear-wateredbrook leapt and dashed or loitered through its jungle. Into themountains ran broad upward-flung valleys of green grass; and groves ofgreat forest trees marched down cañons and out a short distance into theplains. Everything was fresh and green and cool. We needed blankets atnight, and each morning the dew was cool and sparkling, and the sky veryblue. Underneath the forest trees of the stream beds and the cañon wereleafy rooms as small as a closet, or great as cathedral aisles. And inthe short brush dwelt rhinoceros and impalla; in the jungles werebuffalo and elephant; on the plains we saw giraffe, hartebeeste, zebra, duiker; and in the bases of the hills we heard at evening and earlymorning the roaring of lions. 

In this charming spot we lingered eight days. Memba Sasa and I spentmost of our time trying to get one of the jungle-dwelling buffalowithout his getting us. In this we were finally successful. [26] Then, asit was about time for C. To return, we moved back to V. 's boma on theNarossara; relaying, as usual, the carrying of our effects. At this timeI had had to lay off three more men on account of various sorts ofillness, so was still more cramped for transportation facilities. As wewere breaking camp a lioness leaped to her feet from where she had beenlying under a bush. So near was it to camp that I had not my rifleready. She must have been lying there within two hundred yards of ourtents, watching all our activities. 

We drew into V. 's boma a little after two o'clock. The man in charge ofour tent did not put in an appearance until next day. Fortunately V. Hadan extra tent, which he lent us. We camped near the river, just outsidethe edge of the river forest. The big trees sent their branches out overus very far above, while a winding path led us to the banks of the riverwhere was a dingle like an inner room. After dark we sat with V. At ourlittle camp fire. It was all very beautiful--the skyful of tropicalstars, the silhouette of the forest shutting them out, the velvetblackness of the jungle flickering with fireflies, the purer outlines ofthe hilltops and distant mountains to the left, the porters' tiny firesbefore the little white tents; and in the distance, from the directionof V. 's boma, the irregular throb of the dance drum and the occasionalsnatch of barbaric singing borne down on the night wind from where hisWakambas were holding an n'goma. A pair of ibis that had been ejectedwhen we made camp contributed intermittent outraged and raucous squawksfrom the tiptop of some neighbouring tree. 

FOOTNOTES:

[23] This is an interesting fact--that she reared to strike instead ofspringing. 

[24] It must be remembered that this beast had the evening before killeda 350-pound hartebeeste with ease. 

[25] "The Land of Footprints. "

[26] "The Land of Footprints. "

XXXIX. 

NOTES ON THE MASAI. 

It is in no way my intention to attempt a comprehensive description ofthis unique people. My personal observation is, of course, inadequate tothat task, and the numerous careful works on the subject are availableto the interested reader. 

The southern branch of the race, among whom we were now travelling, arevery fine physically. Men close to seven feet in height are not at alluncommon, and the average is well above six. They are strongly andlithely made. Their skins are a red-brown or bronze, generally broughtto a high state of polish by liberal anointing. In feature they resemblemore the Egyptian or Abyssinian than the negro cast of countenance. Thewomen are tall and well formed, with proud, quaintly quizzical faces. Their expressions and demeanour seem to indicate more independence andinitiative than is usual with most savage women, but whether this isactually so or not I cannot say. 

On this imposing and pleasing physical foundation your true Masai iscontent to build a very slight superstructure of ornament. His ear-lobesare always stretched to hang down in long loops, in which small medals, ornaments, decorated blocks of wood, or the like, are inserted. Long, heavy ovals of ivory, grooved to accommodate the flesh loop, very finelyetched in decorative designs, are occasionally worn as "stretchers. "Around the neck is a slender iron collar, and on the arms are one or twoglittering bracelets. The sword belt is of leather heavily beaded, witha short dangling fringe of steel beads. Through this the short blade isthrust. When in full dress the warrior further sports a hollow iron kneebell, connected with the belt by a string of cowrie shells or beads. Often is added a curious triangular strip of skin fitting over thechest, and reaching about to the waist. A robe or short cloak ofshort-haired sheepskin is sometimes carried for warmth, but not at allfor modesty. The weapons are a long, narrow-bladed heavy spear, thebuffalo hide shield, the short sword, and the war club or rungs. Thewomen are always shaven-headed, wear voluminous robes of soft leather, and carry a great weight of heavy wire wound into anklets and stockings, and brought to a high state of polish. So extensive are thesedecorations that they really form a sort of armour, with breaks only forthe elbow and the knee joints. The married women wear also a greatoutstanding collar. 

The Masai are pastoral, and keep immense herds and flocks. Thereforethey inhabit the grazing countries, and are nomadic. Their villages areinvariably arranged in a wide circle, the low huts of mud and wattlesfacing inwards. The spaces between the huts are filled in with thickdense thorn brush, thus enclosing a strong corral, or boma. Thesevillages are called manyattas. They are built by the women in anincredibly brief space of time. Indeed, an overchief stopping two daysat one place has been known to cause the construction of a completevillage, to serve only for that period. He then moved on, and themanyatta was never used again! Nevertheless these low rounded huts, inshape like a loaf of bread, give a fictitious impression of greatstrength and permanency. The smooth and hardened mud resembles masonryor concrete work. As a matter of fact it is the thinnest sort of a shellover plaited withies. The single entrance to this compound may beclosed by thorn bush, so that at night, when the lions are abroad, theMasai and all his herds dwell quite peaceably and safely inside theboma. Twelve to twenty huts constitute a village. 

When the grass is fed down, the village moves to a new location. Thereis some regulation about this, determined by the overchiefs, so that onevillage does not interfere with another. Beside the few articles ofvalue or of domestic use, the only things carried away from an oldvillage are the strongly-woven shield-shaped doors. These are strappedalong the flanks of the donkeys, while the other goods rest between. Adonkey pack, Masai fashion, is a marvellous affair that would not stayon ten minutes for a white man. 

The Masai perform no agriculture whatever, nor will they eat game meat. They have no desire whatever for any of the white man's provisionsexcept sugar. In fact; their sole habitual diet is mixed cow's blood andmilk--no fruits, no vegetables, no grains, rarely flesh; a strikingcommentary on extreme vegetarian claims. The blood they obtain byshooting a very sharp-pointed arrow into the neck vein of the cow. Afterthe requisite amount has been drained, the wound is closed and theanimal turned into the herd to recuperate. The blood and milk are thenshaken together in long gourds. Certainly the race seems to thrive onthis strange diet. Only rarely, on ceremonial occasions or whentransportation is difficult, do they eat mutton or goat flesh, but neverbeef. 

Of labour, then, about a Masai village, it follows that there ispractically none. The women build the manyattas; there is no cooking, notilling of the soil, no searching for wild fruits. The herd have to bewatched by day, and driven in at the fall of night; that is the task ofthe boys and the youths who have not gone through with the quadriennialcircumcision ceremonies and become El-morani, or warriors. Therefore thegrown men are absolutely and completely gentlemen of leisure. Incivilization, the less men do the more important they are inclined tothink themselves. It is so here. Socially the Masai consider themselvesseveral cuts above anybody else in the country. As social superioritylies mostly in thinking so hard enough--so that the inner beliefexpresses itself in the outward attitude and manner--the Masai carry itoff. Their haughtiness is magnificent. Also they can look as unsmilingand bored as anybody anywhere. Consequently they are either greatlyadmired, or greatly hated and feared, as the case happens to be, by allthe other tribes. The Kikuyu young men frankly ape the customs andornaments of their powerful neighbours. Even the British Governmenttreats them very gingerly indeed, and allows these economically uselesssavages a latitude the more agricultural tribes do not enjoy. Yet Isubmit that any people whose property is in immense herds can moreeasily be brought to terms than those who have nothing so valuable tolose. 

As a matter of fact the white man and the Masai have never had it out. When the English, a few years since, were engaged in opening the countrythey carried on quite a stoutly contested little war with the Wakamba. These people put up so good a fight that the English anticipated a mostbitter struggle with the Masai, whose territory lay next beyond. Totheir surprise the Masai made peace. 

"We have watched the war with the Wakamba, " they said, in effect, "andwe have seen the Wakamba kill a great many of your men. But more of yourmen came in always, and there were no more Wakamba to come in and takethe places of those who were killed. We are not afraid. If we should warwith you, we would undoubtedly kill a great many of you, and you wouldundoubtedly kill a great many of us. But there can be no use in that. Wewant the ranges for our cattle; you want a road. Let us then agree. "

The result is that to-day the Masai look upon themselves as anunconquered people, and bear themselves--_towards the othertribes_--accordingly. The shrewd common sense and observation evidencedabove must have convinced them that war now would be hopeless. 

This acute intelligence is not at all incompatible with the ratherbigoted and narrow outlook on life inevitable to a people whose idealsare made up of fancied superiorities over the rest of mankind. Witness, the feudal aristocracies of the Middle Ages. 

With this type the underlying theory of masculine activity is themilitary. Some outlet for energy was needed, and in war it was found. Even the ordinary necessities of primitive agriculture and of the chasewere lacking. The Masai ate neither vegetable, grain, nor wild game. Hiswhole young manhood, then, could be spent in no better occupation thanthe pursuit of warlike glory--and cows. 

On this rested the peculiar social structure of the people. In perusingthe following fragmentary account the reader must first of all divesthis mind of what he would, according to white man's standards, considermoral or immoral. Such things must be viewed from the standpoint of thepeople believing in them. The Masai are moral in the sense that theyvery rigorously live up to their own customs and creeds. Their women arestrictly chaste in the sense that they conduct no affairs outside thosepermitted within the tribe. No doubt, from the Masai point of view, weare ourselves immoral. 

The small boy, as soon as he is big enough to be responsible--and thatis very early in life--is given, in company with others, charge of aflock of sheep. Thence he graduates to the precious herds of cows. Hewears little or nothing; is armed with a throwing club (a long stick), or perhaps later a broad-bladed, short-headed spear of a patternpeculiar to boys and young men. His life is thus over the free openhills and veld until, somewhere between the ages of eighteen andtwenty-one, the year of the circumcision comes. Then he enters on thelong ceremonies that initiate him into the warrior class. My knowledgeof the details of this subject is limited; for while I had the luck tobe in Masailand on the fourth year, such things are not exhibitedfreely. The curious reader can find more on the subject in other books;but as this is confined to personal experiences I will tell only what Ihave myself elicited. 

The youth's shaved head is allowed to grow its hair. He hangs around hisbrow a dangling string of bright-coloured bird skins stuffed out in theshape of little cylinders, so that at a short distance they look likecurls. For something like a month of probation he wears these, thenundergoes the rite. For ten days thereafter he and his companions, theirheads daubed with clay and ashes, clad in long black robes, live out inthe brush. They have no provision, but are privileged to steal what theyneed. At the end of the ten days they return to the manyattas. Athree-day n'goma, or dance, now completes their transformation to theEl-morani class. It finishes by an obscene night dance, in the course ofwhich the new warriors select their partners. 

For ten or twelve years these young men are El-morani. They dwell in aseparate manyatta. With them dwell promiscuously all the young unmarriedwomen of the tribe. There is no permanent pairing off, no individualproperty, no marriage. Nor does this constitute flagrant immorality, difficult as it may be for us to see that fact. The institution, likeall national institutions, must have had its origin in a very real needand a very practical expediency. The fighting strength of the tribe mustbe kept up, and by the young and vigorous stock. On the other hand, every man of military age must be foot free to serve in the constantwars and forays. This institution is the means. And, mind you, unchastity in the form of illicit intercourse outside the manyatta ofthe El-morani, whether with her own or another tribe, subjects the womento instant death. 

The El-morani in full fighting rig are imposing. They are, as I haveexplained, tall and of fine physique. The cherished and prized weapon isthe long, narrow-bladed spear. This is five and six feet long, with ablade over three feet by as many inches, and with a long iron shoe. Infact, only a bare hand-hold of wood is provided. It is of formidableweight, but so well balanced that a flip cast with the wrist will driveit clear through an enemy. A short sword and a heavy-headed war clubcomplete the offensive weapons. The shield is of buffalo hide, oval inshape, and decorated with a genuine heraldry, based on genealogy. Acirclet of black ostrich feathers in some branches surrounds the faceand stands high above the head. In the southern districts the warriorswear two single black ostrich plumes tied one either side the head, andslanting a little backwards. They walk with a mincing step, so that thetwo feathers bob gently up and down like the waving of the circusequestrienne's filmy skirts. 

Naturally the Masai with the Zulu were the most dreaded of all thetribes of Africa. They were constantly raiding in all directions as faras their sphere of operations could reach, capturing cattle and women asthe prizes of war. Now that the white man has put a stop to theferocious intertribal wars, the El-morani are out of a job. The militaryorganization is still carried on as before. What will happen to themorals of the people it would be difficult to say. The twelve years ofimposed peace have not been long enough seriously to deteriorate thepeople; but, inevitably, complete idleness will tell. Either the peoplemust change their ideals and become industrious--which is extremelyunlikely--or they will degenerate. 

As a passing thought, it is a curious and formidable fact that theprohibition of intertribal wars and forays all through East CentralAfrica had already permitted the population to increase to a point ofdiscomfort. Many of the districts are becoming so crowded as tooverflow. What will happen in the long run only time can tell--faminesare weakening things, while war at least hardens a nation's fibre. Thisis not necessarily an argument for war. Only everywhere in the world thewhite man seems, with the best of intentions, to be upsetting naturalbalances without substituting anything for them. We are better atpreventing things than causing them. 

At the age of thirty, or thereabout, the El-morani becomes an Elder. Hemay now drink and smoke, vices that in the Spartan days of his militaryservice were rigorously denied him. He may also take a wife or wives, according to his means, and keep herds of cattle. His wives he purchasesfrom their parents, the usual medium of payment being cows or sheep. Theyoung women who have been living in the El-morani village are consideredquite as desirable as the young virgins. If there are children, theseare taken over by the husband. They are considered rather arecommendation than a detriment, for they prove the girl is fruitful. 

Relieved of all responsibility, the ex-warrior now has full leisure tobe a gentleman. He drinks a fermented liquor made from milk; he takessnuff or smokes the rank native tobacco; he conducts interminablediplomatic negotiations; he oversees minutely the forms of ceremonials;he helps to shape the policies of his manyatta, and he gives hisattention to the accumulation of cows. 

The cow is the one thing that arouses the Masai's full energies. He willundertake any journey, any task, any danger, provided the rewardtherefor is horned cattle. And a cow is the one thing he will on noaccount trade, sell, destroy. A very few of them he milks, and a veryfew of them he periodically bleeds; but the majority, to the numbers ofthousands upon thousands, live uselessly until they die of old age. Theyare branded, generally on the flanks or ribs, with strange large brands, and are so constantly handled that they are tamer and more gentle thansheep. I have seen upwards of a thousand head in sole charge of two oldwomen on foot. These ancient dames drove the beasts in a long file towater, then turned them quite easily and drove them back again. Oppositeour camp they halted their charges and came to make us a long visit. Thecattle stood in their tracks until the call was over; not one offeredeven to stray off the baked earth in search of grasses. 

The Masai cattle king knows his property individually. Each beast hasits name. Some of the wealthier are worth in cattle, at settler'sprices, close to a hundred thousand dollars. They are men of importancein their own council huts, but they lack many things dear to the savageheart simply because they are unwilling to part with a single head ofstock in order to procure them. 

In the old days forays and raids tended more or less to keep the stockdown. Since the White Man's Peace the herds are increasing. In thecountry between the Mau Escarpment and the Narossara Mountains we foundthe feed eaten down to the earth two months before the next rainyseason. In the meantime the few settlers are hard put to it to buycattle at any price wherewith to stock their new farms. The situation isan anomaly which probably cannot continue. Some check will haveeventually to be devised, either limiting the cattle, or compelling anequitable sale of the surplus. Certainly the present situationrepresents a sad economic waste--of the energies of a fine racedestined to rust away, and of the lives of tens of thousands of valuablebeasts brought into existence only to die of old age. If these matchlessherders and cattle breeders could be brought into relation with theworld's markets everybody would be the better. 

Besides his sacred cattle the Masai raises also lesser herds of thehairy sheep of the country. These he used for himself only on the rareoccasions of solitary forced marches away from his herds, or at thetimes of ceremony. Their real use is as a trading medium--for morecattle! Certain white men and Somalis conduct regular tradingexpeditions into Masailand, bringing in small herds of cows bought withtrade goods from the other tribes. These they barter with the Masai forsheep. In Masai estimation a cow is the most valuable thing on earth, while a sheep is only a medium of exchange. With such notions it is easyto see that the white man can make an advantageous exchange, in spite ofthe Masai's well-known shrewdness at a bargain. Each side is satisfied. There remains only to find a market for the sheep--an easy matter. Asmall herd of cows will, in the long run, bring quite a decent profit. 

The Masai has very little use for white man's products. He will tradefor squares of cloth, beads of certain kinds and in a limited quantity, brass and iron wire of heavy gauge, blankets and sugar. That, barringoccasional personal idiosyncrasy, is about all. For these things he willpay also in sheep. Masai curios are particularly difficult to get holdof. I rather like them for their independence in that respect. Icertainly should refuse to sell my tennis shoes from my feet merelybecause some casual Chinaman happened to admire them!

The women seem to occupy a position quite satisfactory to themselves. Tobe sure they do the work; but there is not much work! They appear to bewell treated; at least they are always in good spirits, laughing andjoking with each other, and always ready with quick repartee to remarksflung at them by the safari boys. They visited camp freely, and wouldsit down for a good lively afternoon of joking. Their expressions werequizzical, with a shy intelligent humour. In spite of the apparentunabashed freedom of their deportment they always behaved with theutmost circumspection; nor did our boys ever attempt any familiarity. The unobtrusive lounging presence in the background of two warriorswith long spears may have had something to do with this. 

The Masai government is centred in an overlord or king. His ordersseemed to be implicitly obeyed. The present king I do not know, as theold king, Lenani, had just died at an advanced age. In former days thetraveller on entering Masailand was met by a sub-chief. This man plantedhis long spear upright in the ground, and the intending traveller flungover it coils of the heavy wire. A very generous traveller whocompletely covered the spear then had no more trouble. One less lavishwas likely to be held up for further impositions as he penetrated thecountry. This tax was called the honga. 

The Masai language is one of the most difficult of all the nativetongues. In fact, the white man is almost completely unable even topronounce many of the words. V. , who is a "Masai-man, " who knows themintimately, and who possesses their confidence, does not pretend to talkwith them in their own tongue, but employs the universal Swahili. 

XL. 

THROUGH THE ENCHANTED FOREST. 

We delayed at V. 's boma three days, waiting for C. To turn up. Hemaintained a little force of Wakamba, as the Masai would not takeservice. The Wakamba are a hunting tribe, using both the spear and thepoisoned arrow to kill their game. Their bows are short and powerful, and the arrows exceedingly well fashioned. The poison is made from thewood of a certain fat tree, with fruit like gigantic bologna sausages. It is cut fine, boiled, and the product evaporated away until only ablack sticky substance remains. Into this the point of the arrow isdipped; and the head is then protected until required by a narrow stripof buckskin wound around and around it. I have never witnessed theeffects of this poison; but V. Told me he had seen an eland die intwenty-two minutes from so slight a wound in the shoulder that it ranbarely a hundred yards before stopping. The poison more or less losesits efficiency, however, after the sticky, tarlike substance has driedout. 

I offered a half-rupee as a prize for an archery competition, for I wascurious to get a view of their marksmanship. The bull's-eye was a pieceof typewriter paper at thirty paces. [27] This they managed to punctureonly once out of fifteen tries, though they never missed it very widely. V. Seemed quite put out at this poor showing, so I suppose they canordinarily do better; but I imagine they are a good deal like ourhunting Indians--poor shots, but very skilful at stalking close to abeast. 

Our missing porter, with the tent, was brought in next afternoon byKongoni, who had gone in search of him. The man was a big, strongKavirondo. He was sullen, and merely explained that he was "tired. " Thisexcuse for a five hours' march after eight days' rest! I fined him eightrupees, which I gave Kongoni, and ordered him twenty-five lashes. Sixweeks later he did the same trick. C. Allotted him fifty lashes, and hadhim led thereafter by a short rope around the neck. He was probablyaddicted to opium. This was the only man to be formally kibokoed on thewhole trip--a good testimony at once to C. 's management, thediscrimination we had used in picking them out, and the settledreputations we had by now acquired. 

After C. 's return we prepared to penetrate straight back through thegreat rampart of mountains to the south and west. 

We crossed the bush-grown plains, and entered a gently rising long cañonflanked on either side by towering ranges that grew higher and higherthe farther we proceeded. In the very centre of the mountains, apparently, this cañon ended in a small round valley. There appeared tobe no possible exit, save by the way we had come, or over the almostperpendicular ridges a thousand feet or more above. Nevertheless, wediscovered a narrow ravine that slanted up into the hills to the left. Following it we found ourselves very shortly in a great forest on theside of a mountain. Hanging creepers brushed our faces, tangled vineshung across our view, strange and unexpected openings offered themselvesas a means through which we could see a little closer into the heart ofmystery. The air was cool and damp and dark. The occasional shafts ofsunlight or glimpses of blue sky served merely to accentuate the softgloom. Save that we climbed always, we could not tell where we weregoing. 

The ascent occupied a little over an hour. Then through the tree trunksand undergrowth we caught the sky-line of the crest. When we topped thiswe took a breath, and prepared ourselves for a corresponding descent. But in a hundred yards we popped out of the forest to find ourselves ona new level. The Fourth Bench had been attained. 

It was a grass country of many low, rounded hills and dipping valleys, with fine isolated oaklike trees here and there in the depressions, andcompact, beautiful oaklike groves thrown over the hills like blankets. Well-kept, green, trim, intimate, it should have had church spires andgray roofs in appropriate spots. It was a refreshment to the eye afterthe great and austere spaces among which we had been dwelling, repose tothe spirit after the alert and dangerous lands. The dark-curtainedforest seemed, fancifully, an enchantment through which we had gained tothis remote smiling land, nearest of all to the blue sky. 

We continued south for two days; and then, as the narrative will show, were forced to return. We found it always the same type; pleasant sleepylittle valleys winding around and between low hills crowned with softgroves and forests. It was for all the world like northern Surrey, orlike some of the live oak country of California. Only this we soondiscovered: in spite of the enchantment of the magic-protecting forest, the upper benches too were subject to the spell that lies over allAfrica. These apparently little valleys were in reality the matter of anhour's journey to cross; these rounded hills, to all seeming only twogood golf strokes from bottom to top, were matters of serious climbing;these compact, squared groves of oaklike trees were actually greatforests of giants in which one could lose one's self for days, in whichroamed herds of elephant and buffalo. It looked compact because we couldsee all its constituent elements. As a matter of fact, it was neat andtidy; only we were, as usual, too small for it. 

At the end of two hours' fast marching we had made the distance, say, from the clubhouse to the second hole. Then we camped in a genuinelylittle grove of really small trees overlooking a green valley borderedwith wooded hills. The prospect was indescribably delightful; a sort ofSunday-morning landscape of groves and green grass and a feeling ofchurch bells. 

Only down the valley, diminished by distance, all afternoon Masaiwarriors, in twos and threes, trooped by, mincing along so that theirown ostrich feathers would bob up and down, their spears held aslant. 

We began to realize that we were indeed in a new country when our noonthermometer registered only 66 degrees, and when at sunrise thefollowing morning it stood at 44 degrees. To us, after eight monthsunder the equator, this was bitter weather!

FOOTNOTES:

[27] Eight by ten and a half inches. 

XLI. 

NAIOKOTUKU. 

Next morning we marched on up the beautiful valley through shoulder-highgrasses wet with dew. At the end of two hours we came to the limit ofLeyeye's knowledge of the country. It would now be necessary to findsavage guides. 

Accordingly, while we made camp, C. , with Leyeye as interpreter, departed in search of a Masai village. So tall and rank grew the grass, that we had to clear it out as one would clear brushwood in order tomake room for our tents. 

Several hours later C. Returned. He had found a very large village; butunfortunately the savages were engaged in a big n'goma which could notbe interrupted by mere business. However, the chief was coming to make afriendly call. When the n'goma should be finished, he would bedelighted to furnish us with anything we might desire. 

Almost on the heels of this the chief arrived. He was a fine old savage, over six feet tall, of well proportioned figure, and with a shrewd, intelligent face. The n'goma had him to a limited extent, for hestumbled over tent ropes, smiled a bit uncertainly, and slumped downrather suddenly when he had meant to sit. However, he stumbled, smiled, and slumped with unassailable dignity. 

From beneath his goatskin robe he produced a long ornamented gourd, fromwhich he offered us a drink of fermented milk. He took our refusalgood-naturedly. The gourd must have held a gallon, but he got away withall of its contents in the course of the interview; also several pintsof super-sweetened coffee which we doled out to him a little at a time, and which he seemed to appreciate extravagantly. 

Through Leyeye we exchanged the compliments of the day, and, after theAfrican custom, told each other how important we were. Our visitorturned out to be none other than the brother of Lenani, the paramountchief of all the Masai. I forget what I was, either the brother of KingGeorge or the nephew of Theodore Roosevelt--the only two white men_every_ native has heard of. It may be that both of us were mistaken, but from his evident authority over a very wide district we wereinclined to believe our visitor. 

We told him we wanted guides through the hills to the southward. Hepromised them in a most friendly fashion. 

"I do not know the white man, " said he. "I live always in thesemountains. But my brother Lenani told me ten years ago that some day thewhite man would come into my country. My brother told me that when thewhite man came travelling in my country I must treat him well, for thewhite man is a good friend but a bad enemy. I have remembered my brotherLenani's words, though they were spoken a long time ago. The white manhas been very long in coming; but now he is here. Therefore I havebrought you milk to-day, and to-morrow I will send you sheep; and laterI will send young men who know the hills to take you where you wish togo. "

We expressed gratification, and I presented him with a Marble fishknife. The very thin blade and the ingenious manner in which the twohalves of the handle folded forward over it pleased him immensely. 

"No one but myself shall ever use this knife, " said he. 

He had no pockets, but he tucked it away in his armpit, clamped themuscles down over it, and apparently forgot it. At least he gave it nofurther attention, used his hands as usual, but retained it as securelyas in a pocket. 

"To-morrow, " he promised at parting, "very early in the morning, I willsend my own son and another man to guide you; and I will send a sheepfor your meat. "

We arose "very early, " packed our few affairs, picked out fourporters--and sat down to wait. Our plan was to cruise for five days withas light and mobile an outfit as possible, and then to return for freshsupplies. Billy would take charge of the main camp during our absence. As advisers, we left her Abba Ali, Memba Sasa, and Mohammed. 

At noon we were still waiting. The possibility of doing a full day'sjourney was gone, but we thought we might at least make a start. At oneo'clock, just as we had about given up hope, the Masai strolled in. Theywere beautiful, tall, straight youths, finely formed, with proudfeatures and a most graceful carriage. In colour they were as thoughmade of copper bronze, with the same glitter of high lights from theirfine-textured skins. Even in this chilly climate they were nearly naked. One carried a spear, the other a bow and arrow. 

Joyously we uprose--and sat down again. We had provided an excellentsupply of provisions for our guides; but on looking over the lot theydiscovered nothing--absolutely nothing--that met their ideas. 

"What _do_ they want?" we asked Leyeye in despair. 

"They say they will eat nothing but sheep, " he reported. 

We remembered old Naiokotuku's promise of sending us sheep, sneeredcynically at the faith of savages, and grimly set forth to see what wecould buy in the surrounding country. But we wronged the old man. Lessthan a mile from camp we met men driving in as presents not one, but_two_ sheep. So we abandoned our shopping tour and returned to camp. Bythe time one of the sheep had been made into mutton it was too late tostart. The Masai showed symptoms of desiring to go back to the villagefor the night. This did not please us. We called them up, and beganextravagantly to admire their weapons, begging to examine them. Once wehad them in our hands we craftily discoursed as follows:--

"These are beautiful weapons, the most beautiful we have ever seen. Since you are going so spend the night in our camp, and since we greatlyfear that some of our men might steal these beautiful weapons, we willourselves guard them for you carefully from theft until morning. "

So saying, we deposited them inside the tent. Then we knew we had ourMasai safe. They would never dream of leaving while the most cherishedof their possessions were in hostage. 

XLII. 

SCOUTING IN THE ELEPHANT FOREST. 

Here we were finally off at dawn. It was a very chilly, wet dawn, withthe fog so thick that we could see not over ten feet ahead. We had fourporters, carrying about twenty-five pounds apiece of the barenecessities, Kongoni, and Leyeye. The Masai struck confidently enoughthrough the mist. We crossed neck-deep grass flats--where we werethoroughly soaked--climbed hills through a forest, skirted apparentlyfor miles an immense reed swamp. As usual when travelling strangecountry in a fog, we experienced that queer feeling of remaining in thesame spot while fragments of near-by things are slowly paraded by. Whenat length the sun's power cleared the mists, we found ourselves in themiddle of a forest country of high hills. 

Into this forest we now plunged, threading our way here and there wherethe animal trails would take us, looking always for fresh elephantspoor. It would have been quite impossible to have moved about in anyother fashion. The timber grew on hillsides, and was very lofty andimpressive; and the tropical undergrowth grew tall, rank, andimpenetrable. We could proceed only by means of the kind assistance ofthe elephant, the buffalo, and the rhinoceros. 

Elephant spoor we found, but none made later than three weeks before. The trails were broad, solid paths through the forest, as ancient andbeaten as though they had been in continuous use for years. Unlike therhino and buffalo trails, they gave us head room and to spare. The greatcreatures had by sheer might cut their way through the dense, toughgrowth, leaving twisted, splintered, wrecked jungle behind them, but noimpediment. 

By means of these beautiful trails we went quietly, penetrating fartherand farther into the jungle. Our little procession of ten made no noise. If we should strike fresh elephant tracks, thus would we hunt them, withall our worldly goods at our backs, so that at night we could camp righton the trail. 

The day passed almost without incident. 

Once a wild crash and a snort told of a rhinoceros, invisible, but veryclose. We huddled together, our rifles ready, uncertain whether or notthe animal would burst from the leafy screen at our very faces. TheMasai stood side by side, the long spear poised, the bow bent, fine, tense figures in bronze. 

Near sundown we found ourselves by a swift little stream in the bottomof a deep ravine. Here we left the men to make camp, and ourselvesclimbed a big mountain on the other side. It gave us a look abroad overa wilderness of hills, forested heavily, and a glimpse of the landfallfar away where no white man had ever been. This was as far south as wewere destined to get, though at the time we did not know it. Our planwas to push on two days more. Near the top of the ridge we found theunmistakable tracks of the bongo. This is interesting to zoologists inthat it extends the southward range of this rare and shy beast. 

Just at dark we regained our camp. It was built California fashion--forthe first and last time in Africa: blankets spread on canvas under theopen sky and a gipsy fire at our feet, over which I myself cooked ourvery simple meal. As we were smoking our pipes in sleepy content, Leyeye and the two Masai appeared for a shauri. Said the Masai, --

"We have taken you over the country we know. There are elephants theresometimes, but there are no elephants there now. We can take youfarther, and if you wish us to do so, we will do so; but we know no moreof the country than you do. But now if we return to the manyattato-morrow, we can march two hours to where are some Wanderobo; and theWanderobo know this country and will take you through it. If it pleasesyou, one of us will go get the Wanderobo, and the other will stay withyou to show good faith. "

We rolled our eyes at each other in humorous despair. Here at the verybeginning of the reconnaissance we had run against the stone wall ofAfrican indirectness and procrastination. And just as we thought we hadat last settled everything!

"Why, " we inquired, "were not the Wanderobo sent at first, instead ofyourselves?"

"Because, " they replied, with truly engaging frankness, "our chief, Naiokotuku, thought that perhaps we might find elephant here in thecountry we know; and then we should get for ourselves all the presentsyou would give for finding elephant. But the elephant are not here now, so the Wanderobo will get part of the present. "

That was certainly candid. After some further talk we decided there wasno help for it; we must return to camp for a new start. 

At this decision the Masai brightened. They volunteered to set off earlywith Leyeye, to push ahead of us rapidly, and to have the Wanderobo incamp by the time we reached there. We concealed somewhat cynical smiles, and agreed. 

The early start was made, but when we reached camp we found, not theWanderobo, but Leyeye and the Masai huddled over a fire. This wasexasperating, but we could not say much. After all, the whole matter wasno right of ours, but a manifestation of friendship on the part ofNaiokotuku. In the early afternoon the sky cleared, and the ambassadorsdeparted, promising faithfully to be back before we slept. We spent theday writing and in gazing at the vivid view of the hillside, the forest, and the distant miniature prospect before us. Finally we discovered whatmade it in essence so strangely familiar. In vividness and clarity--evenin the crudity of its tones--it was exactly like a coloured photograph!

Of course the savages did not return that evening, nor did we reallyexpect them. Just as a matter of form we packed up the next morning, andsat down to wait. Shortly before noon Leyeye and the Masai returned, bringing with them two of the strange, shy, forest hunters. 

But by this time we had talked things over thoroughly. The lure of thegreater kudu was regaining the strength it had lost by a long series ofdisappointments. We had not time left for both a thorough investigationof the forests and a raid in the dry hills of the west after kudu. Mavrouki said he knew of a place where that animal ranged. So we hadcome to a decision. 

We called the Masai and Wanderobo before us. They squatted in a row, their spears planted before them. We sat in canvas chairs. Leyeyestanding, translated. The affair was naturally of the greatestdeliberation. In the indirect African manner we began our shauri. 

We asked one simple question at a time, dealing with one simple phase ofthe subject. This phase we treated from several different points ofview, in order to be absolutely certain that it was understood. To thesequestions we received replies in this manner:--

"Yes, the Wanderobo told us, " they knew the forest; they knew how to goabout in the forest; they understood how to find their way in theforest. They knew the elephant; they had seen the elephant many times inthe forest; they knew where the elephant ranged in the forest--and so onthrough every piece of information we desired. It is the usual and onlysure way of questioning natives. 

Thus we learned that the elephant range extended south through theforests for about seven days' travel; that at this time of year thebeasts might be anywhere on that range. This confirmed our decision. Then said we to Leyeye:--

"Tell the Masai that the bwana m'kubwa is most pleased with them, andthat he is pleased with the way they have worked for him, and that he ispleased with the presents they have brought him. Tell them that he hasno goods here with him, but that he has sent men back to the boma ofbwana Kingozi[28] for blankets and wire and cloth, and when those menreturn he will make a good present to these Masai and to Naiokotuku, their chief. 

"Tell the Wanderobo that the bwana m'kubwa is pleased with them, andthat he thanks them for coming so far to tell him of the elephant, andthat he believes they have told him the truth. Tell them the bwanam'kubwa will not fight the elephant now, because he has not the time, but must go to attend to his affairs. But later, when two years havegone, he will make another safari, and will come back to this country, and will again ask these men to lead him out where he can fight theelephant. And in the meantime he will give them rupees with which to paytheir hut tax to the Government. "

After various compliments the sitting rose. Then we packed up for a fewhours' march. In a short time we passed the chief's village. He came outto say good-bye. A copper bronze youth accompanied him, lithe as aleopard. 

"My men have told me your words, " said he. "I live always in thesemountains, and my young men will bring me word when you return. I amglad the white men have come to see me. I shall have the Wanderobo readyto take you to fight the elephant when you return. "

He then instructed the young man to accompany us for the purpose ofbringing back the presents we had promised. We shook hands in farewell, and so parted from this friendly and powerful chief. 

FOOTNOTES:

[28] V. 's native name--the Master with the Red Beard. 

XLIII. 

THE TOPI CAMP. 

At the next camp we stayed for nearly a week. 

The country was charming. Mountains surrounded the long ellipse, nearone edge of which we had pitched our tents. The ellipse was some tenmiles long by four or five wide, and its surface rolled in easy billowsto a narrow neck at the lower end. There we could just make out in thefar distance a conical hill partly closing the neck. Atop the hill was aMasai manyatta, very tiny, with indistinct crawling red and brownblotches that meant cattle and sheep. Beyond the hill, and through theopening in the ellipse, we could see to another new country of hills andmeadows and forest groves. In this clear air they were microscopicallydistinct. No blue of atmosphere nor shimmer of heat blurred theiroutlines. They were merely made small. 

Our camp was made in the open above a tiny stream. We saw wonderfulsunrises and sunsets, and always spread out before us was the sweep ofour plains and the unbroken ramparts that hemmed us in. From thesemountains meandered small stream-ways marked by narrow strips of treesand brush, but the most of the valley was of high green grass. Occasional ant hills ten feet tall rose conical from the earth; and thecountry was pleasingly broken and modelled, so that one continuallysurmounted knolls, low, round ridges, and the like. Of such conditionsare surprises made. 

The elevation here was some 7, 000 feet, so that the nights were cold andthe days not too warm. Our men did not fancy this change of weather. Agood many of them came down with the fever always latent in theirsystems, and others suffered from bronchial colds. 

At one time we had down sick eleven men out of our slender total. However, I believe, in spite of these surface symptoms, that the coldair did them good. It certainly improved our own appetites and stayingpower. 

In the thirty or forty square miles of our valley were many herds ofvaried game. We here for the first time found Neuman's hartebeeste. Thetype at Narossara, and even in Lengetto, was the common Coke'shartebeeste, so that between these closely allied species thereinterposes at this point only the barriers of a climb and a forest. These animals and the zebra were the most plentiful of the game. Thezebra were brilliantly white and black, with magnificent coats. Thompson's and Roberts' gazelles were here in considerable numbers, eland, Roosevelt's wildebeeste, giraffe, the smaller grass antelopes, and a fair number of topi. In the hills we saw buffalo sign, severalcheetah, and heard many lions. 

It had been our first plan that C. Should return immediately to V. 'sboma after supplies, but in view of the abundance of game we decided towait over a day. We much desired to get four topi, and this seemed agood chance to carry some of them out. Also we wished to decide forcertain whether or not the hartebeeste here was really of the Neumanvariety. 

We had great luck. Over the very first hill from camp we came upon aherd of about a dozen topi, feeding on a hill across the way. I knockeddown the first one standing at just 250 paces. The herd then split andbroke to right and left. By shooting very carefully and steadily Imanaged to kill three more before they were out of range. The last shotwas at 325 paces. In all I fired seven shots, and hit six times. Thiswas the best shooting I did in Africa--or anywhere else--and is afirst-rate argument for the Springfield and the high velocity, sharp-pointed bullet. 

Overjoyed at our luck in collecting these animals so promptly, so nearcamp, and at a time so very propitious for handling the trophies, we setto the job of skinning and cutting up. The able-bodied men all came outfrom camp to carry in the meat. They appeared, grinning broadly, forthey had had no meat since leaving the Narossara. C. And I saw matterswell under way, and then went on to where I had seen a cheetah the daybefore. Hardly were we out of sight when two lions sauntered over thehill and proceeded to appropriate the meat! The two men in chargepromptly withdrew. A moment later a dozen porters on their way out fromcamp topped the hill and began to yell at the lions. The latter thenslowly and reluctantly retreated. 

We were very sorry we had not stayed. The valley seemed populated withlions, but in general they were, for some reason, strictly nocturnal. By day they inhabited the fastnesses of the mountain ranges. We neversucceeded in tracing them in that large and labyrinthine country; nor atany time could we induce them to come to kills. Either their naturalprey was so abundant that they did not fancy ready-killed food; or, whatis more likely, the cold nights prevented the odour of the carcassesfrom carrying far. We heard lions every night; and every morning weconscientiously turned out before daybreak to crawl up to our baitthrough the wet, cold grass, but with no results. That very night wewere jerked from a sound sleep by a tremendous roar almost in camp. Soclose was it that it seemed to each of us but just outside the tent. Wecame up all standing. The lion, apparently, was content with thatpractical joke, for he moved off quietly. Next morning we found wherethe tracks had led down to water, not ten yards away. 

We spent the rest of that day spying on the game herds. It isfascinating work, to lie belly down on a tall ant hill, glasses steadiedby elbows, picking out the individual animals and discussing themlow-voiced with a good companion. C. And I looked over several hundredhartebeeste, trying to decide their identity. We were neither of usfamiliar with the animal, and had only recollections of the bookdistinctions. Finally I picked out one that seemed to present the mostmarked characteristics--and missed him clean at 280 yards. Then I tookthree shots at 180 yards to down a second choice. The poor shooting wasforgotten, however, in our determination that this was indeed Neumanii. 

A vain hunt for lions occupied all the next day. The third morning C. Started for the boma, leaving Billy and me to look about us as wewilled. Shortly after he had departed a delegation of Masai came in, dressed in their best, and bearing presents of milk. Leyeye was summonedas interpreter. 

The Masai informed us that last night a lion had leapt the thorn wallsof their boma, had pressed on through the fires, had seized atwo-year-old steer, and had dragged the beast outside. Then the pursuitwith spears and firebrands had become too hot for him, so that he haddropped his victim and retired. They desired (_a_) medicine for thesteer, (_b_) magic to keep that lion away, (_c_) that I should assistthem in hunting the lion down. 

I questioned them closely, and soon discovered both that the lion musthave been very bold, and also that he had received a pretty livelyreception. Magic to keep him away seemed like a safe enough proposition, for the chances were he would keep himself away. 

Therefore I filled a quart measure with clear water, passed my handacross its untroubled surface--and lo! it turned a clear bright pink!

Long-drawn exclamations of "Eigh! Eigh!" greeted this magic, performedby means of permanganate crystals held between the fingers. 

"With this bathe the wounds of your steer. Then sprinkle the remainderover your cattle. The lion will not return, " said I. Then reflectingthat I was to be some time in the country, and that the lion might getover his scare, I added, "The power of this magic is three days. "

They departed very much impressed. A little later Memba Sasa and Ifollowed them. The manyatta was most picturesquely placed atop theconical hill at the foot of the valley. From its elevation we could seehere and there in the distance the variegated blotches of red and whiteand black that represented the cattle herds. Innumerable flocks of sheepand goats, under charge of the small boys and youths, fed nearer athand. The low smooth-plastered huts, with their abattis of thorn bushbetween, crowned the peak like a chaplet. Outside it sat a number ofelders sunning themselves, and several smiling, good-natured youngwomen, probably the spoiled darlings of these plutocrats. One of thesedamsels spake Swahili, so we managed to exchange compliments. They toldus exactly when and how the lion had gone. Three nimble old gentlemenaccompanied us when we left. They were armed with spears; and theydisplayed the most extraordinary activity, skipping here and thereacross the ravines and through the brush, casting huge stones intolikely cover, and generally making themselves ubiquitous. However, wedid not come up with the lion. 

In our clinic that evening appeared one of the men claiming to sufferfrom rheumatism. I suspected him, and still suspect him, of malingeringin advance in order to get out of the hard work we must soon undertake, but had no means of proving my suspicion. However, I decided toadminister asperin. We possessed only the powdered form of the drug. Idumped about five grains on his tongue, and was about to proffer him thewater with which to wash it down--when he inhaled sharply! I do not knowthe precise effect of asperin in the windpipe, but it is not pleasant. The boy thought himself bewitched. His eyes stuck out of his head; hegasped painfully; he sank to the ground; he made desperate efforts tobolt out into the brush. By main strength we restrained him, and forcedhim to swallow the water. Little by little he recovered. Next night Imissed him from the clinic, and sent Abba Ali in search. The man assuredAbba Ali most vehemently that the medicine was wonderful, that everytrace of rheumatism had departed, that he never felt better in his life, and that (important point) he was perfectly able to carry a load on themorrow. 

XLIV. 

THE UNKNOWN LAND. 

C. Returned the next day from V. 's boma, bringing more potio and sometrade goods. We sent a good present back to Naiokotuku, and prepared foran early start into the new country. 

We marched out of the lower end of our elliptical valley towards theminiature landscape we had seen through the opening. But before wereached it we climbed sharp to the right around the end of themountains, made our way through a low pass, and so found ourselves in anew country entirely. The smooth, undulating green-grass plains were nowsuperseded by lava expanses grown with low bushes. It was almost exactlylike the sage-brush deserts of Arizona and New Mexico--the same coarsesand and lava footing, the same deeply eroded barrancas, the samescattered round bushes dotted evenly over the scene. We saw here verylittle game. Across the way lay another range of low mountains clotheddarkly with dull green, like the chaparral-covered coast ranges ofCalifornia. In one place was a gunsight pass through which we could seeother distant blue mountains. We crossed the arid plain and toiled upthrough the notch pass. 

The latter made very difficult footing indeed, for the entire surface ofthe ground was covered with smooth, slippery boulders and rocks of ironand quartz. What had so smoothed them I do not know, for they seemed tobe ill-placed for water erosion. The boys with their packs atop foundthis hard going, and we ourselves slipped and slid and bumped in spiteof our caution. 

Once through the pass we found ourselves overlooking a wide prospect ofundulating thorn scrub from which rose occasional bushy hills, solitarybuttes, and bold cliffs. It was a thick-looking country to make a waythrough. 

Nevertheless somewhere here dwelt the Kudu, so in we plunged. The restof the day--and of days to follow--we spent in picking a way through thethorn scrub and over loose rocks and shifting stones. A stream bedcontained an occasional water hole. Tall aloes were ablaze with redflowers. The country looked arid, the air felt dry, the atmosphere wasso clear that a day's journey seemed--usually--but the matter of a fewhours. Only rarely did we enjoy a few moments of open travel. Most ofthe time the thorns caught at us. In the mountain passes were sometimesbroad trails of game or of the Masai cattle. The country was harsh anddry and beautiful with the grays and dull greens of arid-land brush, orwith the soft atmospheric tints of arid-land distances. Game was fairlycommon, but rather difficult to find. There were many buffalo, a veryfew zebra, leopards, hyenas, plenty of impalla, some sing-sing, a feweland, abundant wart-hog, Thompson's gazelle, and duiker. We neverlacked for meat when we dared shoot it, but we were after nobler game. The sheep given us by Naiokotuku followed along under charge of thesyces. 

When we should run quite out of meat, we intended to eat them. Wedelayed too long, however. One evening the fool boy tied them to a thornbush; one of them pulled back, the thorns bit, and both broke loose anddeparted into the darkness. Of course everybody pursued, but we couldnot recapture them. Ten minutes later the hyenas broke into the mostunholy laughter. We could not blame them; the joke was certainly on us. 

In passing, the cachinnations of the laughing hyena are rather a seriesof high-voiced self-conscious titters than laughter. They sound like thestage idea of a lot of silly and rather embarrassed old maids who havebeen accused by some rude man of "taking notice. " This call is rarelyused; indeed, I never heard it but the once. The usual note is a sort ofmoaning howl, impossible to describe, but easy to recognize. 

Thus we penetrated gradually deeper and deeper into this wild country;through low mountains, over bush-clad plains, into thorn jungles, downwide valleys, over hill-divided plateaus. Late in the afternoon we wouldmake camp. Sometimes we had good water; more often not. In the eveningthe throb of distant drums and snatches of intermittent wailing songrose and fell with the little night breezes. 

XLV. 

THE ROAN. 

Our last camp, before turning back, we pitched about two o'clock oneafternoon. Up to this time we had marched steadily down wide valleys, around the end of mountain ranges, moving from one room to the other ofthis hill-divided plateau. At last we ended on a slope that descendedgently to water. It was grown sparingly with thorn trees, among which weraised our tents. Over against us, and across several low swells ofgrass and scrub-grown hills, was a range of mountains. Here, Mavroukiclaimed, dwelt roan antelope. 

We settled down quite happily. The country round about was full of game;the weather was cool, the wide sweeps of country, the upward fling ofmountains and buttes were much like some parts of our great West. Almostevery evening the thunderstorms made gorgeous piled effects in thedistance. At night the lions and hyenas roared or howled, and some ofthe tiny fever owls impudently answered them back. 

Various adventures came our way, some of which have been elsewherenarrated. Here we killed the very big buffalo that nearly got Billy. [29]In addition, we collected two more specimens of the Neuman'shartebeeste, and two Chanler's reed buck. 

But Mavrouki's glowing predictions as to roan were hardly borne out byfacts. According to him the mountains simply swarmed with them--he hadseen thirty-five in one day, etc. Of course we had discounted this, butsome old tracks had to a certain extent borne out his statement. 

Lunch time one day, however, found us on top of the highest ridge. Herewe hunted up a bit of shade, and spent two hours out of the noon sun. While we lay there the sky slowly overcast, so that when we arousedourselves to go on, the dazzling light had softened. As time was gettingshort, we decided to separate. Memba Sasa and Mavrouki were to go in onedirection, while C. , Kongoni and I took the other. 

Before we started I remarked that I was offering two rupees for thecapture of a roan. 

We had not gone ten minutes when Kongoni turned his head cautiously andgrinned back at us. 

"My rupees, " said he. 

A fine buck roan stood motionless beneath a tree in the valley below us. He was on the other side of the stream jungle, and nearly a mile away. While we watched him, he lay down. 

Our task now was to gain the shelter of the stream jungle below withoutbeing seen, to slip along it until opposite the roan, and then topenetrate the jungle near enough to get a shot. The first part of thiscontract seemed to us the most difficult, for we were forced to descendthe face of the hill, like flies crawling down a blackboard, plain forhim to see. 

We slid cautiously from bush to bush; we moved by imperceptible inchesacross the numerous open spaces. About half-way down we were arrested bya violent snort ahead. Fifteen or twenty zebras nooning in the brushwhere no zebras were supposed to be, clattered down the hill like anavalanche. We froze where we were. The beasts ran fifty yards, thenwheeled, and started back up the hill, trying to make us out. For twentyminutes all parties to the transaction remained stock still, the zebrasstaring, we hoping fervently they would decide to go down the valley andnot up it, the roan dozing under his distant tree. 

By luck our hopes were fulfilled. The zebra turned downstream, walkingsedately away in single file. When we were certain they had all quitegone, we resumed our painful descent. 

At length we dropped below the screen of trees, and could stand uprightand straighten the kinks out of our backs. But now a new complicationarose. The wind, which had been the very basis of our calculations, commenced to chop and veer. Here it blew from one quarter, up there onthe side hill from another, and through the bushes in quite anotherdirection still. Then without warning they would all shift about. Wewatched the tops of the grasses through our binoculars, hoping to readsome logic into the condition. It was now four o'clock--our stalk hadthus far consumed two hours--and the roan must soon begin to feed. If wewere going to do anything, we must do it soon. 

Therefore we crept through a very spiky, noisy jungle to its other edge, sneaked along the edge until we could make out the tree, and raisedourselves for a look. Through the glass I could just make out theroan's face stripe. He was still there!

Quite encouraged, I instantly dropped down and crawled to within range. When again I raised my head the roan had disappeared. One of theseaggravating little side puffs of breeze had destroyed our two hours'work. 

The outlook was not particularly encouraging. We had no means of tellinghow far the animal would go, nor into what sort of country; and the hourwas well advanced toward sunset. However, we took up the track, andproceeded to follow it as well as we could. That was not easy, for theground was hard and stony. Suddenly C. Threw himself flat. Of course wefollowed his example. To us he whispered that he thought he had caught aglimpse of the animal through an opening and across the stream bed. Westalked carefully, and found ourselves in the middle of a small herd oftopis, one of which, half concealed in the brush, had deceived C. Thisconsumed valuable time. When again we had picked up the spoor, it wasagreed that I was to still-hunt ahead as rapidly as I could, while C. And Kongoni would puzzle out the tracks as far as possible before dark. 

Therefore I climbed the little rocky ridge on our left, and walkedalong near its crest, keeping a sharp lookout over the valleybelow--much as one would hunt August bucks in California. After two orthree hundred yards I chanced on a short strip of soft earth in whichthe fresh tracks of the roan going uphill were clearly imprinted. Icould not without making too much noise inform the others that I had cutin ahead of them; so I followed the tracks as cautiously and quietly asI could. On the very top of the hill the roan leapt from cover fiftyyards away, and with a clatter of rocks dashed off down the ridge. Thegrass was very high, and I could see only his head and horns, but Idropped the front sight six inches and let drive at a guess. The guesshappened to be a good one, for he turned a somersault seventy-two yardsaway. 

C. And Kongoni came up. The sun had just set. In fifteen minutes itwould be pitch dark. We dispatched Kongoni for help and lanterns, andturned to on the job of building a signal fire and skinning the trophy. 

The reason for our strangely chopping wind now became apparent. From ourelevation we could see piled thunder-clouds looming up from the west. They were spreading upward and outward in the swift, rushing manner oftropic storms; and I saw I must hustle if I was to get my fire going atall. The first little blaze was easy, and after that I had to pile onquantities of any wood I could lay my hands to. The deluge blotted outevery vestige of daylight and nearly drowned out my fire. I had startedto help C. With the roan, but soon found that I had my own job cut outfor me, and so went back to nursing my blaze. The water descended insheets. We were immediately soaked through, and very cold. The surfaceof the ground was steep and covered with loose round rocks, and in mycontinuous trips for firewood I stumbled and slipped and ran into thornsmiserably. [30]

After a long interval of this the lanterns came bobbing through thedarkness, and a few moments later the dim light revealed the shiningrain-soaked faces of our men. 

We wasted no time in the distribution of burdens. C. With one of thelanterns brought up the rear, while I with the other went on ahead. 

Now as Kongoni had but this minute completed the round trip to camp, weconcluded that he would be the best one to give us a lead. This was amistake. He took us out of the hills well enough, and a good job thatwas, for we could not see the length of our arms into the thick, rainyblackness, and we had to go entirely by the slants of the country. Butonce in the more open, sloping country, with its innumerable bushy orwooded ravines, he began to stray. I felt this from the first; butKongoni insisted strongly he was right, and in the rain and darkness wehad no way of proving him wrong. In fact I had no reason for thinkinghim wrong; I only felt it. This sense of direction is apparently a fifthwheel or extra adjustment some people happen to possess. It has nothingto do with acquired knowledge, as is very well proved by the fact thatin my own case it acts only as long as I do not think about it. As soonas I begin consciously to consider the matter I am likely to go wrong. Thus many, many times I have back-tracked in the dark over ground I hadtraversed but once before, and have caught myself turning out for bushesor trees I could not see, but which my subconscious memory recalled. This would happen only when I would think of something besides the wayhome. As soon as I took charge, I groped as badly as the next man. It isa curious and sometimes valuable extra, but by no means to be dependedupon. 

Now, however, as I was following Kongoni, this faculty had full play, and it assured me vehemently that we were wrong. I called C. Up from therear for consultation. Kongoni was very positive he was right; but as wehad now been walking over an hour, and camp should not have been morethan three miles from where we had killed the roan, we were inclinedtowards my instinct. So we took the compass direction, in order toassure consistency at least, and struck off at full right angles to theleft. 

So we tramped for a long time. Every few moments Kongoni would wantanother look at that compass. It happened that we were now going duenorth, and his notion was that the needle pointed the way to camp. Weprofoundly hoped that his faith in white man's magic would not beshattered. At the end of an hour the rain let up, and it clearedsufficiently to disclose some of the mountain outlines. They convincedus that we were in the main right; though just where, to the north, campnow lay was beyond our power to determine. Kongoni's detour had beenrather indeterminate in direction and distance. 

The country now became very rough, in a small way. The feeble light ofour leading lantern revealed only ghosts and phantoms and looming, warning suggestions of things which the shadows confused and shifted. Heavily laden men would have found it difficult travelling by prosaicdaylight; but now, with the added impossibility of picking a routeahead, we found ourselves in all sorts of trouble. Many times we had toback out and try again. The ghostly flickering tree shapes against thefathomless black offered us apparently endless aisles that neverthelessclosed before us like the doors of a trap when we attempted to enterthem. 

We kept doggedly to the same general northerly direction. When you arelost, nothing is more foolish than to make up your mind hastily andwithout due reflection; and nothing is more foolish than to change yourmind once you have made it up. That way vacillation, confusion, anddisaster lie. Should you decide, after due consideration of all theelements of the problem, that you should go east, then east you go, andnothing must turn you. You may get to the Atlantic Ocean if nothingelse. And if you begin to modify your original plan, then you begin tocircle. Believe me; I know. 

Kongoni was plainly sceptical, and said so until I shut him up withsome rather peremptory sarcasm. The bearers, who had to stumble in thedark under heavy burdens, were good-natured and joking. This weappreciated. One can never tell whether or not he is popular with anative until he and the native are caught in a dangerous or disagreeablefix. 

We walked two hours as in a treadmill. Then that invaluable thougherratic sixth sense of mine awoke. I stopped short. 

"I believe we've come far enough, " I shouted back to C. , and fired myrifle. 

We received an almost immediate answer from a short distance to theleft. Not over two hundred yards in that direction we met our camp menbearing torches, and so were escorted in triumph after a sixteen-hourday. 

FOOTNOTES:

[29] "The Land of Footprints. "

[30] Six months after I had reached home, one of these thorns worked itsway out of the calf of my leg. 

XLVI. 

THE GREATER KUDU. 

Next morning, in a joking manner, I tried to impress Kongoni with asense of delinquency in not knowing better his directions, especially ashe had twice traversed the route. He declined to be impressed. 

"It is not the business of man to walk at night, " he replied withdignity. 

And when you stop to think of it, it certainly is not--in Africa. 

At this camp we lingered several days. The great prize of our journeyingwas still lacking, and, to tell the truth, we had about given up hope, if not our efforts. Almost we had begun to believe our friends inNairobi who had scoffed at the uselessness of our quest. Always weconscientiously looked over good kudu country, hundreds of miles of it, and always with the same lack of result, or even of encouragement. Othergame we saw in plenty, of a dozen different varieties, large and small;but our five weeks' search had thus far yielded us only the sight of thesame old, old sign, made many months before. If you had stood with usatop one of the mountains, and with us had looked abroad on thecountless leagues of rolling brush-clothed land, undulating away in alldirections over a far horizon, you must with us have estimated as veryslight the chances of happening on the exact pin point where the kudu atthat moment happened to be feeding. For the beast is shy, it inhabitsthe densest, closest mountain cover, it possesses the keen eyesight andsense of smell of the bush-dwelling deer and antelope, and more than theaverage sense of hearing. There are very few of him. But the chiefdiscouragement is that arising from his roaming tendencies. Other rareanimals are apt to "use" about one locality, so that once the hunterfinds tracks, new or old, his game is one of patient, skilful search. The greater kudu, however, seems in this country at least to be awanderer. He is here to-day and gone to-morrow. Systematic search seemsas foolish as in the case of the proverbial needle in the haystack. Theonly method is to sift constantly, and trust to luck. One cannot catchfish with the fly in the book, but one has at least a chance if onekeeps it on the water. 

Mavrouki was the only one among us who had the living faith that comesfrom having seen the animal in the flesh. That is a curious bit ofhunter psychology. When a man is out after a species new to him, it isonly by the utmost stretch of the imagination that he is able to realizethat such an animal can exist at all. He cannot prefigure it, somehow. He generally exaggerates to himself the difficulty of making it out, ofapproaching it, of getting his shot; until at last, if he happens tohave hunted some time in vain, the beast becomes almost mythical andunbelievable. Once he has seen the animal, whether he gets a shot ornot, all this vanishes. The strain on faith relaxes. He knows what tolook for, and what to expect; and even if he sees no other specimen fora month, he nevertheless goes about the business with a certainconfidence. 

One afternoon we had been hunting carefully certain low mountains, andwere headed for camp, walking rather carelessly along the bed of anarrow, open valley below the bush-covered side hills. The sun haddisappeared behind the ranges, and the dusk of evening was justbeginning to rise like a mist from the deeps of the cañons. We hadceased hunting--it was time to hurry home--and happened not to betalking only because we were tired. By sheerest idle luck I chanced tolook up to the densely covered face of the mountain. Across a singletiny opening in the tall brush five or six hundred yards away, I caughta movement. Still idly I lifted my glasses for a look at what I thoughtwould prove the usual impalla or sing-sing, and was just in time tocatch the spirals of a magnificent set of horns. It was the greater kuduat last!

I gave a little cluck of caution; and instantly, without question, afterthe African fashion, the three men ahead of me sank to the ground. C. Looked at me inquiringly. I motioned with my eyes. He raised his glassesfor one look. 

"That's the fellow, " he said quietly. 

The kudu, as though he had merely stepped into the opening to give us asight of him, melted into the brush. 

It was magnificent and exciting to have seen this wonderful beast afterso long a quest, but by the same token it was not very encouraging forall that. If we had had all the daylight we needed, and unlimited time, it would have been quite a feat to stalk the wary beast in that thick, noisy cover. Now it was almost dark, and would be quite dark within thehalf-hour. The kudu had moved out of sight. Whether he had gone on somedistance, or whether he still lingered near the edge of the tiny openingwas another matter to be determined, and to be determined quickly. 

Leaving Kongoni and Mavrouki, C. And I wriggled pantingly up the hill, as fast and at the same time as cautiously as we could. At the edge ofthe opening we came to a halt, belly down, and began eagerly toscrutinize the brush across the way. If the kudu still lingered we hadto find it out before we ventured out of cover to take up his trail. Inch by inch we scrutinized every possible concealment. Finally C. Breathed sharp with satisfaction. He had caught sight of the tip of onehorn. With some difficulty he indicated to me where. After staring longenough, we could dimly make out the kudu himself browsing, from thetender branch-ends. 

All we could do was to lie low. If the kudu fed on out of sight into thecover, we could not possibly get a shot; if he should happen again tocross the opening, we would get a good shot. No one but a hunter canunderstand the panting, dry-mouthed excitement of those minutes; fiveweeks' hard work hung in the balance. The kudu did neither of thesethings; he ceased browsing, took three steps forward, and stood. 

The game seemed blocked. The kudu had evidently settled down for asnooze; it was impossible, in the situation, to shorten the distancewithout being discovered; the daylight was almost gone; we could makeout no trace of him except through our glasses. Look as hard as wecould, we could see nothing with the naked eye. Unless somethinghappened within the next two minutes, we would bring nothing into campbut the memory of a magnificent beast. And next day he would probably beinextricably lost in the wilderness of mountains. [31]

It was a time for desperate measures, and, to C. 's evident doubtfulanxiety, I took them. Through the glasses the mane of the kudu showed asa dim gray streak. Carefully I picked out two twigs on a bush fifteenfeet from me, and a tuft of grass ten yards on, all of which were inline with where the shoulder of the kudu ought to be. Then I lowered myglasses. The gray streak of the kudu's mane had disappeared in theblending twilight, but I could still see the tips of the twigs and thetuft of grass. Very carefully I aligned the sights with these; and, witha silent prayer to the Red Gods, loosed the bullet into the darkness. 

At the crack of the rifle the kudu leapt into plain sight. 

"Hit!" rasped C. In great excitement. 

I did not wait to verify this, but fired four times more as fast as Icould work the bolt. Three of the bullets told. At the last shot hecrumpled and came rolling down the slope. We both raised a wild whoop oftriumph, which was answered at once by the expectant gunbearers below. 

The finest trophy in Africa was ours!

FOOTNOTES:

[31] Trailing for any distance was impossible on account of the stonysoil. 

XLVII. 

THE MAGIC PORTALS CLOSE. 

It seemed hopeless to try for a picture. Nevertheless I opened wide mylens, steadied the camera, and gave it a half-second. The result wasfairly good. So much for a high grade lens. We sent Kongoni into campfor help, and ourselves proceeded to build up the usual fire for signaland for protection against wild beasts. Then we sat down to enjoy theevening, while Mavrouki skinned the kudu. 

We looked abroad over a wide stretch of country. Successive low ridgescrossed our front, each of a different shade of slate gray from itsneighbours, and a gray half-luminous mist filled the valley betweenthem. The edge of the world was thrown sharp against burnished copper. After a time the moon rose. 

Memba Sasa arrived before the lanterns, out of breath, his facestreaming with perspiration. Poor Memba Sasa! this was almost the onlyday he had not followed close at my heels, and on this day we hadcaptured the Great Prize. No thought of that seemed to affect theheartiness of his joy. He rushed up to shake both my hands; he examinedthe kudu with an attention that was held only by great restraint; he letgo that restrain to shake me again enthusiastically by the hands. Afterhim, up the hill, bobbed slowly the lanterns. The smiling bearersshouldered the trophy and the meat, and we stumbled home through thehalf shadows and the opalescences of the moonlight. 

Our task in this part of the country was now finished. We set out on thereturn journey. The weather changed. A beautiful, bright-copper sunsetwas followed by a drizzle. By morning this had turned into a heavy rain. We left the topi camp, to which we had by now returned, cold andmiserable. C. And I had contributed our waterproofs to protect theprecious trophies, and we were speedily wet through. The grass was long. This was no warm and grateful tropical rain, but a driving, chillingstorm straight out from the high mountains. 

We marched up the long plain, we turned to the left around the base ofthe ranges, we mounted the narrow grass valley, we entered theforest--the dark, dripping, and unfriendly forest. Over the edge wedropped and clambered down through the hanging vines and the sombretrees. By-and-by, we emerged on the open plains below, the plains on thehither side of the Narossara, the Africa we had known so long. The rainceased. It was almost as though a magic portal had clicked after us. Behind it lay the wonderful secret upper country of the unknown. 

XLVIII. 

THE LAST TREK. 

Some weeks later we camped high on the slopes of Suswa, the greatmountain of the Rift Valley, only one day's march from the railroad. After the capture of the kudu Africa still held for us variousadventures--a buffalo, a go of fever, and the like--but the culminationhad been reached. We had lingered until the latest moment, reluctant togo. Now in the gray dawn we were filing down the slopes of the mountainsfor the last trek. A low, flowing mist marked the distant Kedong; theflames of an African sunrise were revelling in the eastern skies. Allour old friends seemed to be bidding us good-bye. Around the shoulder ofthe mountains a lion roared, rumble upon rumble. Two hyenas leapt fromthe grass, ran fifty yards, and turned to look at us. 

"Good-bye, simba! good-bye, fice!" we cried to them sadly. 

A little farther we saw zebra, and the hartebeeste, and the gazelles. One by one appeared and disappeared again the beasts with which we hadgrown so familiar during our long months in the jungle. So remarkablewas the number of species that we both began to comment upon the fact, to greet the animals, to bid them farewell, as though they werereporting in order from the jungle to bid us God-speed. Half in earnestwe waved our hands to them and shouted our greetings to them in thenative--punda milia, kongoni, pa-a, fice, m'pofu, twiga, simba, n'grooui, and the rest. Before our eyes the misty ranges hardened andstiffened under the fierce sun. Our men marched steadily, cheerfully, beating their loads in rhythm with their safari sticks, crooning undertheir breaths, and occasionally breaking into full-voiced chant. Theywere glad to be back from the long safari, back from across the Thirst, from the high, cold country, from the dangers and discomforts of theunknown. We rode a little wistfully, for these great plains andmysterious jungles, these populous, dangerous, many-voiced nights, theseflaming, splendid dawnings and day-falls, these fierce, shimmering noonswe were to know no more. 

Two days we had in Nairobi before going to the coast. There we paid offand dismissed our men, giving them presents according to the length andfaithfulness of their service. They took them and departed, eagerly, aswas natural, to the families and the pleasures from which they had beenso long separated. Mohammed said good-bye, and went, and was sorry;Kongoni departed, after many and sincere protestations; quiet littleMavrouki came back three times to shake hands again, and disappearedreluctantly--but disappeared; Leyeye went; Abba Ali followed the serviceof his master, C. ; "Timothy" received his present--in which he wasdisappointed--and departed with salaams. Only Memba Sasa remained. Ipaid him for his long service, and I gave him many and rich presents, and bade farewell to him with genuine regret and affection. 

Memba Sasa had wives and a farm near town, neither of which possessionshe had seen for a very long while. Nevertheless he made no move to seethem. When our final interview had terminated with the usual "Bags" (Itis finished), he shook hands once more and withdrew, but only to takehis position across the street. There he squatted on his heels, fixedhis eyes upon me, and remained. I went down town on business. Happeningto glance through the office window I caught sight of Memba Sasa againacross the street, squatted on his heels, his gaze fixed unwaveringly onmy face. So it was for two days. When I tried to approach him, he glidedaway, so that I got no further speech with him; but always, quietly andunobtrusively, he returned to where he could see me plainly. Heconsidered that our interview had terminated our official relations, buthe wanted to see the last of the bwana with whom he had journeyed sofar. 

One makes many acquaintances as one knocks about the world; and once ina great many moons one finds a friend--a man the mere fact of whoseexistence one is glad to realize, whether one ever sees him again ornot. These are not many, and they are of various degree. Among them I amglad to number this fierce savage. He was efficient, self-respecting, brave, staunch, and loyal with a great loyalty. I do not think I canbetter end this book than by this feeble tribute to a man whoseopportunities were not many, but whose soul was great. 

THE END

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