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COPYRIGHT, 1920, 1921, 1922, 1923, BY DOUBLE~
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PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE
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FOREWORD

the manuscript of the volume thoroughly, but
after a quarter of a century acquaintance with
the experiences, thoughts, and ideals of the author
himself. This is the daybook, the diary, the narra-
tive, the incident, and the adventure of an African
sculptor and an African biographer, whose observa-
tions we hope may be preserved in imperishable form,
so that when the animal life of Africa has vanished,
future generations may realize in some degree the
beauty and grandeur which the world has lost.
Sculptor and Biographer of the vanishing wild
life of Africa—I do not feel that I can adequately and
truthfully characterize Carl E. Akeley better than
in these words. I have always maintained that he
was a sculptor, that sculpture was his real vocation,
in which taxidermy was an incidental element. The
sculptor is a biographer and an historian. Without
sculpture we should know far less of the vanished
greatness of Greece than we do. Through sculpture
Carl E. Akeley is recording the vanishing greatness
of the natural world of Africa. We paleontologists
alone realize that in Africa the remnants of all the
royal families of the Age of Mammals are making
1x

| HAVE written this Foreword, not after reading

x FOREWORD

their last stand, that their backs are up against the
pitiless wall of what we call civilization. Human
rights are triumphing over animal rights, and it
would be hard to determine which rights are really
superior or most worthy to survive.

Akeley came twenty-seven years ago into the
midst of this unequal contest between the flesh and
blood of the animal kingdom and the steel and lead
of the sportsman, of the food and ivory hunter, and
his sympathies were all on the animal side in the
fight. If his sympathies had been on the human
side he could not be the biographer of the African
vanishing world who speaks in the pages of this
volume, lost in admiration of the majesty of the
elephant, the unchallenged reign of the lion, the
beauty and grace of the antelope, the undaunted
courage of the buffalo, and, last but not least, of
certain splendid qualities in the native African hunter.
We know of only one other sculptor who has immor-
talized the African Negro in bronze; this is Herbert
Ward, whose splendid life work is now in the United
States National Museum.

Similarly, Carl E. Akeley’s life work will be as-
sembled in the African and Roosevelt Halls of the
American Museum, in human bronzes, in a great
group of the elephant, in rhinoceroses and gorillas,
each group representing his unerring portrayal of the
character of the animal and his sympathetic admi-
ration of its finest qualities. It is in making close
observations for these groups that he has lived so
long in Africa and come very close to death on three

FOREWORD x1

occasions. We may find something base in animal
nature if we seek it; we may also find much that is
excellent and worthy of emulation. In this respect
animal nature is like human nature—we may take
our choice. The decadent sculptor and the decadent
writer may choose the wrong side in human nature,
and the sensational writer may choose the wrong side
in animal nature; Akeley has chosen the ennobling
side and does not dwell on the vices either of the
animals or of the natives but on their virtues, their
courage, defence of their young, devotion to the
safety of their families—simple, homely virtues which
are so much needed to-day in our civilization.
Truthfulness is the high note of the enduring
biographer of animal life as well as of human life.
“Set down naught in malice, nothing extenuate”
is an essential principle in the portrayal of vanishing
‘Africa as it is in our portrayal of the contemporary
manners and customs of modern society; to know
the elephant, the lion, the antelope, the gorilla as
they really are,-not as they have been pictured by
sensational writers who have never seen them at
close range or who have been tempted to exaggerate
their danger for commercial reasons. Akeley’s work
on the gorilla is the latest and perhaps his best por-
trayal of animal life in Africa as it really is. He
defends the reputation of this animal, which has been
misrepresented in narrative and fiction as a ferocious
biped that attacks man at every opportunity, ab-
ducts native women as in the sculptures of Fremiet,
a monster with all the vices of man and none of the

xii FOREWORD

virtues. For this untruthful picture Akeley substi-
tutes a real gorilla, chiefly a quadruped in locomo-
tion, not seeking combat with man, ferocious only
when his family rights are invaded, benign rather
than malignant in countenance. Thus he explodes
the age-long gorilla myth and we learn for the first
time the place in nature of this great anthropoid and
come to believe that it should be conserved and
protected rather than eliminated. In other words,
the author shows that there are good grounds for the
international movement to conserve the few remain-
ing tribes of the gorilla.

Akeley has come into closest touch with all these
animals in turn, even at great personal risk, always
leaving with increased rather than diminished admi-
ration for them. This quality of truthfulness, com-
bined with his love of beauty of the animal form—
beauty of hide, of muscle, of bone, of facial expres-
sion—will give permanence to Akeley’s work, and
permanence will be the sure test of its greatness.

Henry FAIRFIELD OSBORN.

July 27, 1923.
American Museum.

XII.

XIV.

XV.

CONTENTS
A New Art Becun .
ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FoEs .
My AcqQuaINTANCE WITH Lions
HuntTING THE AFRICAN BUFFALO . .
LEOPARDS AND RHINOS
ALONG THE TRAIL
Bren,
DAPAR® FAUNTERS = 6) Se oly! us eet
INVENTIONS AND WARFARE .
A TAxXIDERMIST AS A SCULPTOR
Huntinc GoriILLas IN CENTRAL AFRICA .
ADVENTURES ON Mr. MIKENO
Tue Lone Mate or KarisImBI
Is THE GoriLLA ALmMost A Man?.

RooseEvELT AFRICAN Hatt—A REcorD FOR

THE FUTURE,
xill

131
148
164
175
188
211
226

236

251

LIST OF LINE DRAWINGS

Map of the Elephant Country . te

Sketch Indicating Mr. Akeley’s Movenica ns
During Encounter with Leopard :

Map Showing Mr. Akeley’s Route to Gorilla
Country :

Map Showing Location of Three Misunenine
Mikeno, Karisimbi, and Visoke .

Plan of the Main Floor and Gallery of Roose-
velt African Hall “1

A Section of the “Annex’”’ Containing Habitat
CCUG USS Ay re

PAGB

IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

CHAPTER I

A NEW ART BEGUN

S A boy I lived on a farm near Clarendon,
A Orleans County, N. Y., and for some reason,
about the time I was thirteen, I got interested
in birds. I was out of place on the farm for I was
much more interested in taxidermy than in farming.
As a matter of fact, by the time I was sixteen I an-
nounced to the world that I was a taxidermist. I had
borrowed a book which had originally cost a dollar,
and from that book I learned taxidermy up to a point
where I felt justified in having business cards printed
stating that I did artistic taxidermy in all its branches.
I even went so far as to take several lessons in paint-
ing from a lady who taught art in Clarendon, in order
that I might paint realistic backgrounds behind the
birds that I mounted. So far as I know, that was the
first experiment of painted backgrounds used for
mounted birds or animals. I believe that my first
attempt in this direction is still in existence in Claren-
don but I have been a little afraid to go to see it.
In the fall of the year in which I was nineteen, after
the crops were in, I set out to get a wider field for my

I

2 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

efforts. There was at that time in the neighbouring
town of Brockport an Englishman named David
Bruce, whose hobby was taxidermy. By calling he
was a painter and interior decorator—a very skilful
craftsman who did special work far and wide through
the country. As a recreation he mounted birds and
animals for sportsmen. His office was filled with
birds in cases and he was surrounded with other
evidences of his hobby.

To me it seemed that he led an ideal life, for he had
a successful business and one that gave him enough
spare time to indulge his fancies in taxidermy. It
hadn’t entered my head at the time that a man could
make a living at anything as fascinating as taxidermy,
so I felt that the best possible solution of the problem
was that which Mr. Bruce had devised. I went to
see if I could get a job with him in his decorating
business in order that I might also be with him in his
hobby. He was most kindly and cordial. I remem-
ber that he took me out and bought me an oyster
stew and told me, while we were eating, that if I came
with him he would teach me all his trade secrets in
painting and decorating, which he had kept even from
his workmen. It seemed to me that a glorious future
was settled for me then and there. If I was not in
the seventh heaven, I was at least in the fifth or sixth
and going up, and then my prospects became so
favourable as to become almost terrifying. Mr.
Bruce, after having made me such alluring offers to
come with him, said that he thought I ought to go to
a much better place than his shop—a place where I

A NEW ART BEGUN 3

might actually make a living at taxidermy. In
Rochester there was a famous institution, Ward’s
Natural Science Establishment. At that time, and
for years afterward, this establishment supplied the
best museums in this country with nearly all their
mounted specimens and also most of their other
natural history collections. Professor Ward was the
greatest authority on taxidermy of his day. It was
to this place that Bruce suggested I should go. The
step which he planned seemed a great venture to
me, but I determined to try it. I went home from
Brockport and told the family what Bruce had said
and what I intended todo. I got up early next morn-
ing—I didn’t have to wake up for I had hardly slept
a wink—and walked three miles to the station to take
the train to Rochester. When I reached there, I
walked all over town before I found Ward’s Natural
Science Establishment and the more I walked the
lower and lower my courage sank. The Establish-
ment consisted of Professor Ward’s house and several
other buildings, the entrance to the place being an
arch made of the jaws of a sperm whale. An ap.
prentice approaching the studio of a Rembrandt or a
Van Dyke couldn’t have been more in awe than
I was. I walked up and down the sidewalk in front
of the Professor’s house for a while until I finally
gathered courage to ring the door-bell. I was ad-
mitted to an elaborately furnished room, and after
a little while Professor Ward came in. It had been
a long time since I had had breakfast, but he hadn’t
quite finished his, and this contrast seemed to increase

4 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

my disadvantages in his presence. Moreover, Pro-
fessor Ward was always very busy and very brusque
and was avery fierce man. Not even when a leopard
sprang on me in Africa have I had a worse moment
than when this little man snapped out, “What do you
want?”

The last vestige of my pride and assurance was
centred on my business card, and without a word I
handed him this evidence of my skill and art as a
taxidermist. The card seemed to justify my belief
in it, for the great man asked me when I could go to
work and offered me the munificent sum of $3.50 a
week. I discovered a boarding house where I could
get a room and my meals for $4 a week and on this
basis I began to learn the art of taxidermy and to run
through my slender resources.

The art of taxidermy as practised at Ward’s Nat-
ural Science Establishment in those days was very
simple. To stuff a deer, for example, we treated the
skin with salt, alum, and arsenical soap. Then the
bones were wired and wrapped and put in his legs and
he was hung, upside down, and the body stuffed
with straw until it would hold no more If then we
wished to thin the body at any point, we sewed
through it with a long needle and drew it in. Now
to do this, no knowledge of the animal’s anatomy or
of anything else about it was necessary. There was
but little attempt to put the animals in natural
attitudes; no attempt at grouping, and no accessories
in the shape of trees or other surroundings. The
profession I had chosen as the most satisfying and

A NEW ART BEGUN 5

stimulating to a man’s soul turned out at that time
to have very little science and no art at all.

The reason for this was not so much that no one
knew better. It was more the fact that no one would
pay for better work. Professor Ward had to set a
price on his work that the museums would pay, and
at that time most museums were interested almost
exclusively in the collection of purely scientific data
and cared little for exhibitions that would appeal to
the public. They preferred collections of birds’ skins
to bird groups, and collections of mammal data and
skeletons to mammal groups. The museums then
had no taxidermists of their own.

However, many of the prominent museum men of
to-day had their early training at Ward’s Natural
Science Establishment. Soon after I went to Ward’s
another nineteen-year-old boy named William Mor-
ton Wheeler, now of the Bussey Institution at Har-
vard, turned up there. E. N. Gueret, now in charge
of the Division of Osteology in the Field Museum of
Natural History, George K. Cherrie, the South
American explorer; the late J. William Critchley, who
became the chief taxidermist in the Brooklyn Museum
of Arts and Sciences; Henry L. Ward, director of the
Kent Scientific Museum in Grand Rapids; H. C.
Denslow, an artist formerly associated with several
of the leading museums as bird taxidermist; William
T. Hornaday, director of the New York Zodlogical
Park, and Frederick S. Webster, who was the first
president of the Society of American Taxidermists,
were all among the friends I made in those early days.

6 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

A long list of others, not my contemporaries at that
institution, but men with whom J have since been
associated 1n museum work, might be added. Dr.
Frederic A. Lucas had left Ward’s shortly before my
arrival to take up his duties at the Smithsonian In-
stitution but I came to feel that I knew him very well
through the stories and reminiscences of my com-
panions. It was not until my return from my third
expedition in Ig11 that my delightful association with
him as the director of the American Museum of Nat-
ural History was begun.

I have a theory that the first museum taxidermist
came into existence in about this way: One of our
dear old friends, some old-fashioned closet naturalist
who knew animals only as dried skins and had been
getting funds from some kind-hearted philanthropist,
one day, under pressure from the philanthropist, who
wanted something on exhibition to show his friends,
sent around the corner and called in an upholsterer
and said, “Here is the skin of an animal. Stuff this
thing and make it look like a live animal.” The
upholsterer did it and kept on doing it until the scien-
tist had a little more money. Given more work the
upholsterer became ambitious and had an idea that
these animals might be improved upon, so he began to
do better work. But it took more time and cost more
money so that he lost his job. Thus it has been that
from the very people from whom we expected the
most encouragement in the beginning of our efforts,
we received the least.

I remember very well one time when an opportun-

A NEW ART BEGUN 5

ity came to do something a little better. A zebra was
brought into the Establishment. I had been study-
ing anatomy and I had learned the names of all the
muscles and all the bones. When I saw the zebra I
realized that here was an opportunity to do something
good and I asked to make a plaster cast of the body.
I had to do it in my own time and worked from supper
until breakfast time, following out a few special ex-
periments of my own in the process. Nevertheless,
the zebra was handed out to be mounted in the old
way and my casts were thrown on the dump.

I stayed at this leading institution of taxidermy for
four years and while I was there we stuffed animals
for most of the museums in the country, for hunters
and sportsmen, and various other kinds of people,
including Barnum’s circus. The animal we stuffed
for Barnum’s circus was the famous elephant Jumbo.
We had to use a slightly different method for Jumbo,
not only because of his size but because he had to be
made rigid and strong enough to stand being carted
around the country with the circus; for this old ele-
phant served dead as well as alive to amuse and in-
struct the public. As a matter of fact, he is still at
it, for his skin on the steel-and-wood frame we made
for it at Ward’s is at Tufts College and his skeleton
is at the American Museum of Natural History.

_ Between the time that I first went to Ward’s and
my last job there, which was on Jumbo, there was an
intermission which IJ spent in the taxidermy shop of
John Wallace on North William Street in New York.
T roomed in Brooklyn with Doctor Funk, of Funk &

8 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

Wagnalls, and worked in the basement shop of
Wallace’s, and a more dreary six months I never had
spent anywhere. So when Ward came after me to go
back, saying that his having fired me was all a mistake
due to erroneous reports that had been given him, I
went, and stayed three years. During this time I got
to know Professor Webster of Rochester University,
who later became president of Union College, and he
urged me to study to become a professor. In spite
of the fact that my education had stopped early on
account of a lack of funds, I set to work to prepare
myself to go to the Sheffield Scientific School. But
between working in the daytime and studying at
night I broke down, and when examination time came
I wasn’t ready. However, my chances of further
education, although delayed, seemed improved. At
the time I was studying for the Sheffield Scientific
School my friend, William Morton Wheeler, had left
Ward’s and was teaching in the High School in Mil-
waukee. He wrote and offered to tutor me if I would
go out there. So I went to Milwaukee and got a job
with the museum there, which was to give me food
and lodging while I prepared for college. It did more
than that, for it absorbed me so that I gave up all
thought of abandoning taxidermy. I stayed eight
years in Milwaukee, working in the museum and ina
shop of my own.

Several things happened there which stimulated
my interest in taxidermy. One of the directors had
been to Lapland and had collected the skin of a rein-
deer, a Laplander’s sled, and the driving parapher-

A NEW ART BEGUN 9

nalia, and he was anxious to have these shown in the
museum. ‘This material we turned into a group of a
Laplander driving a reindeer over the snow. That
was fairly successful, and we induced the museum to
buy a set of skins of orang-outangs, which Charles
F. Adams, another of my former colleagues at Ward’s,
had collected in Borneo. We arranged them in a
group using some bare branches as accessories.

In making these groups we had had to abandon
the old straw-rag-and-bone method of stuffing and
create modelled manikins over which to stretch the
skins. As soon as this point was reached several
problems presented themselves, the solution of which
meant an entirely new era in taxidermy. If a man
was going to model a realistic manikin for an animal’s
skin, instead of stuffing the skin with straw, it was
evident he would have to learn to model. Likewise
it turned out that, even if a man knew how to model,
he couldn’t model an animal body sufficiently well
for the skin to fit it unless he knew animal anatomy.
And we found out also that making a manikin from
a model was not as simple as it sounds, but that on
the contrary it isabout as difficult as casting in bronze,
the difference being that the art of bronze casting has
been developed through many years, while the art of
making manikins had to be created comparatively
quickly and by a very few people. We worked at
these problems step by step in Milwaukee and made
a good deal of progress.

The reindeer and orang-outang work encouraged
me to suggest a series of groups of the fur-bearing

fe) IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

animals of Wisconsin, the muskrat group to be the
first of the series. This suggestion was more toler-
ated than encouraged when it was first made, but I
went as far as I could go with my dream and before I
left there I finished the muskrat group, as I did most
of my early experiments, in spite of the opposition of
the authorities. It was the old, old story of starting a
thing and having to give it up because of lack of sup-
port. But my idea won eventually. It was only a
short time until my friend Wheeler was made director
of the museum and from then on there was full
sympathy for the plan. This was an entering wedge,
and since that time group after group has been added,
until now that museum has a magnificent series.
Wheeler, who had encouraged me to go to Mil-
waukee, also was the cause of my leaving. One year,
while he was director, he went to Europe, and while
abroad had a talk with Sir William Flower of the
British Museum, in which Flower intimated that he
would like me to go there. So I planned to quit
Milwaukee and to go to London. However, I didn’t
immediately get any farther than Chicago. I stopped
there and happened to go into the Field Museum of
Natural History. It was then housed in the old art
gallery of the Columbian Exposition. Professor
Daniel G. Eliot was its curator of zodlogy. He of-
fered me some taxidermy contracts on the spot and
I accepted. While I was doing them he suggested
that I go with him on an expedition to Africa. We
started in 1896. |
When we got back from that trip I continued at the

A NEW ART BEGUN II

Field Museum as chief of the Department of Taxi-
dermy. Before leaving Milwaukee I had been work-
ing on an idea of four deer groups, to be called the
“Four Seasons,” to show the animals in natural sur-
roundings of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. I
collected a good deal of the necessary material and
put a lot of work on the project in my own shop, and
finally reached a point where it became necessary for
me to know whether the museum was going to want
the groups or not. I approached the curator of
zoology. He said that he would recommend the
purchase of one of the four. Later I saw the presi-
dent of the museum. After some discussion he asked
why it was that the museum couldn’t have the four
groups. I gave him every assurance that it could.
I spent four years on these four groups. It wouldn’t
take so long now but at that time we had not only
to make the groups but also to perfect the methods
of doing it at the same time. Four years is a long
time to take on four deer groups, but the number of
things in taxidermy we worked out in doing those
groups made it a very full four years’ work. In fact,
the method finally used for mounting those deer
groups is the method still in use.

Briefly, that method is this: For each animal a
rough armature was made, on which a life-sized clay
model was shaped just like a clay model made for
casting in bronze except that to facilitate accuracy
the skull and leg bones of the animal were used. This
model was checked by measurements made of the
dead animal in the field, by photographs, and fre-

1D) IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

quently by anatomical casts made in the field. The
final result was a model not only of the species but of
the actual animal whose skin we were going to use.
All this took a lot of time, study, and money, and it
was quite a different thing from stuffing a skin with
rags and straw. For a temporary effect the skin
could be mounted on the clay model, but an animal
so mounted would deteriorate. For permanent
work it was necessary to devise some light, durable
substance, which would not be affected by moisture,
to take the place of the clay of the manikin. After a
lot of experimentation I came to the conclusion that
a papier-maché manikin reénforced by wire cloth
and coated with shellac would be tough, strong,
durable, and impervious to moisture. It isn’t possi-
ble to model papier-maché with the hands as one
moulds clay, so the problem resolved itself into mak-
ing a plaster mould of the clay model and then using
that to build the papier-maché manikin. When a
man wishes to make a bronze in a mould he can pour
the melted metal into the mould and when it has
cooled remove the mould. But you can’t pour
papier-maché reénforced with wire cloth and if you
put it into a plaster-of-paris mould it will stick. The
solution of this difficulty struck me suddenly one day
when I was riding into town to go to the museum.
“T’ve got it!’ I exclaimed, to the amusement of
my friends and the rest of the car full of people. As
soon as I could get to my shop I tried it and it worked.
It was to take the plaster moulds of the clay model
and coat the inside of them with glue. On this glue

A NEW ART BEGUN 13

I laid a sheet of muslin and worked it carefully and
painstakingly into every undulation of the mould.
On this went thin layers of papier-maché with the
wire cloth reénforcement likewise worked carefully
into every undulation of the mould. Every layer of
the papier-maché composition was carefully covered
with a coating of shellac so that each layer, as well as
the whole, was entirely impervious to water. For
animals the size of a deer two layers of reénforced
composition give strength enough. For animals the
size of an elephant four are sufficient and four
layers are only about an eighth of an inch thick.
When the final coat of shellac was well dried I im-
mersed the whole thing in water. The water affected
nothing but the thin coating of glue between the
mould and the muslin. That melted and my muslin-
covered, reénforced papier-maché sections of the
manikin came out of the plaster mould clean and
perfect replicas of the original clay model. The
four sections of the manikin were assembled with the
necessary leg irons and wooden ribs and the whole
was ready for the skin.

The combination of glue and muslin was the key
to the whole problem. The manikin so made is an
absolutely accurate reproduction of the clay model,
even more accurate than bronze castings for there is
no shrinkage. The manikin of a deer so constructed
weighs less than thirty pounds, but it is strong enough
to hold a man’s weight. I have sat on the back of
an antelope mounted in this manner and done it no
harm. Moreover, it is entirely made of clean and

14 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

durable materials. There is nothing to rot or shrink
or to cause shrinkage or decay in the skin. Of the
animal itself only the shells of the hoofs and horns,
and the skin are used, and the skin is much more care-
fully cleaned and tanned than those of women’s furs.
An animal prepared in this way will last indefinitely.
This was a long step from the methods we used at
Ward’s of filling a raw skin with greasy bones of the
legs and skull and stuffing the body out with straw,
excelsior, old rags, and the like.

I believe that there has not yet been devised a bet-
ter method of taxidermy than that described here and
its use has become almost universal. Although it
does not take much time to tell about it, the mounting
of an animal in this way is a long and tedious process.
Moreover, it is hard work. Consequently, but few
of the people using it do a thoroughly constructed
manikin. In an attempt to save time and money
cheaper processes are resorted to and many animals,
mounted by methods that only approximate that
which I have evolved, fail to show good results.
When the method was first introduced at the Ameri-
can Museum of Natural History, the authorities
objected to its expense, and to cut down the cost a
light plaster cast, believed to be “just as good,”
was substituted for the manikin. Many specimens
mounted in this manner have since been thrown on
the dump heap.

I finally got the four deer groups finished and the
Field Museum bought them at the price agreed upon.
When I figured it out financially I found that I had

A NEW ART BEGUN 15

come out even on my expenditures for labour and
materials but for my own time and for profit there
was nothing. However, I had the experience and
the method and I felt that it was a pretty good four
years’ work.

In the old days at Ward’s a taxidermist was a man
who took an animal’s skin from a hunter or collector
and stuffed it or upholstered it. By the time I had
finished the deer groups I had become pretty well
convinced that a real taxidermist needed to know
the technique of several quite different things.

First, he must be a field man who can collect his
own specimens, for other people’s measurements are
never very satisfactory, and actual study of the
animals in their own environment is necessary in
making natural groups.

Second, he must know both animal anatomy and
clay modelling in order to make his models.

Third, he should have something of the artistic
sense to make his groups pleasing as well as accurate.
| Fourth, he must know the technique of manikin
making, the tanning of skins, and the making of ac-
cessories such as artificial leaves, branches, etc.

With all these different kinds of technique in taxi-
dermy it is obvious that if a man attempts to do prac-
tically everything himself, as I did in the deer groups,
taxidermy must be a very slow process—just as if a
painter had to learn to make his own paint or a sculp-
tor to cast his own bronzes or chisel his concepts out
of granite or marble.

The proper care of the skins in the field is itself a

16 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

subject of infinite ramifications. I remember, for
instance, my experience in skinning the first elephant
that I killed. I shot him in the early afternoon. I
immediately set to work photographing and measur-
ing him. ‘That took about an hour, and then I set to
the serious work of getting off his skin. I worked
as rapidly as I could, wherever possible using the help
of the fifty boys of my safari, and by strenuous efforts
finished taking the skin off and salting it by breakfast
time the next morning. And that was not quick
enough. Before I got all the skin off the carcass
some of it on the under side had begun to decompose —
and I lost a little of it. This was a particularly
difficult beast to skin because he had fallen in a little
hollow and after skinning the exposed side of him all
the efforts of the fifty black boys to roll him over, out
of the depression, so that we could easily get at the
other side, failed. After I had had more practice, I
was able to photograph, measure, and skin an ele-
phant and have his hide salted in eight hours. But
then the work on the skin was only begun. A green
skin like this weighs a ton and a quarter and in places
is as much as two and a half inches thick. There is
about four days’ work in thinning it. I have had
thirty or forty black boys for days cutting at the in-
side of the skin in this thinning process or sharpening
the knives with which they did the work.

When it is finally thinned down, thoroughly dried
and salted, it presents another problem. Moisture
will ruin it. Salt, the only available preservative,
attracts moisture. It isn’t possible to carry zinc-'

A NEW ART BEGUN 17

Jined cases into the forests after elephants. I tried
building thatched roofs over the skins but it was not
a success. I speculated on many other plans but
none appeared feasible. Finally Nature provided a
solution for the difficulty.

There are, in the elephant country, many great
swarms of bees. I set the natives to work collecting
beeswax which is as impervious to moisture as shellac.
I melted the wax and used it to coat unbleached cot-
ton cloth, known in East Africa as Americana. In
this water-tight, wax-covered cloth I wrapped my
dried and salted rolls of skins and packed them on
the porters’ heads down to the railroad.

As a matter of fact, field conditions make it so
difficult to care for skins properly that only a very
small percentage ever reach a taxidermy shop in
perfect condition.

Similarly the measurement of animals for taxi-
dermy presents many difficulties. The size of a lion’s
leg, for instance, measured as it hangs limp after the
animal’s death is not accurate data for the leg with
the muscles taut ready for action. Nor is an animal’s
body the same size with its lungs deflated in death
as when the breath of life was in its body. All these
things must be taken into account in using measure-
ments or even casts to resurrect an animal true to its
living appearance.

My work on the deer groups impressed me with the
fact that taxidermy, if it was to be an art, must have
skilled assistance as the other arts have. I began to
dream of museums which would have artist-naturalists

18 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

who would have the vision to plan groups and the
skill to model them and who would be furnished with
skilled assistance in the making of the manikins and
accessories and in the mounting of the animals. And
it seemed as if the dream were about to come true.
About this time I had a conference with Dr. Herman
Bumpus, then director of the American Museum of
Natural History in New York. He told me that he
had then at the museum a young man named James
Clark who could model but who did not know the
technique of making manikins and mounting animals.
The result of our talk was that Clark came out to >
my shop in Chicago and together we went through
the whole process, mounting a doe which now stands
in the American Museum. But the old museum
trouble broke out again. It cost a lot to mount
animals in the method which Clark brought back.
So there was pressure to reduce the cost and, under
this pressure, the methods, in the words of O. Henry,
“were damaged by improvements.” However, in
the course of time it was demonstrated that while
it often happens that an honest effort to make a thing
better often makes it cheaper also, an effort merely
to cheapen a thing very seldom makes it better.

In the meanwhile, in 1905, I went to Africa again,
to collect zodlogical material for the Field Museum.

Again, in 1909, I went, this time for the American
Museum of Natural History. I stayed two years,
studying elephants, lions, and lion spearing. When
I got back and set to work mounting the elephant
group in the American Museum in New York, I dis-

A NEW ART BEGUN 19

covered that with these hairless skins there was op-
portunity for a little simplification of the method used
in the deer groups. It was possible actually to model
the skin on the clay manikin, only in this case the
clay manikin was for convenience in three pieces.
A layer of plaster of paris was then laid on outside
the skin to hold it firmly in shape. Then the clay
removed from the inside was replaced with a layer
of plaster. Thus every detail of the skin was held
firmly in the matrix of plaster until it was thoroughly
_ dried, when the plaster was removed from the inside
and replaced with succeeding layers of wire cloth and
shellaced papier-maché, making the skin an integral
part of the manikin. In other words, the skin func-
tioned practically as does the muslin in the manikins
made for haired animals. When this was done the
plaster mould was taken off the outside and the clean}
light, durable half-sections of elephants were put to-
gether.

When I got back from Africa in 1911 I was dream-
ing of a great African Hall which would combine
all the advances that had been made in taxidermy
and the arts of museum exhibition and at the same
time would make a permanent record of the fast-
disappearing wild life of that most interesting ani-
mal kingdom, Africa.

CHAPTER II

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES

herd a quarter of a mile from a native village in

Uganda in a last desperate effort to inspect the
two hundred and fifty elephants which had been
chevying me about so fast that I had not had a chance
to see whether there were any desirable specimens
among them or not. [have spent a day and a night in
the Budongo Forest in the middle of a herd of seven
hundred elephants. I have stood on an ant-hill
awaiting the rush of eleven elephants which had got
my wind and were determined to get me. I have
spent a day following and fighting an old bull which
took twenty-five shots of our elephant rifles before
he succumbed. And once also I had such close
contact with an old bull up on the slopes of Mt.
Kenia that I had to save myself from being gored by
grabbing his tusks with my hands and swinging in
between them.

I have spent many months studying elephants in
Africa—on the plains, in the forests, in the bamboo,
up on the mountains. I have watched them in herds
and singly, studied their paths, their feeding grounds,
everything about them I could, and I have come to the
conclusion that of all the wild animals on this earth

20

| HAVE sat in the top of a tree in the middle of a

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES 21

now, the African elephant is the most fascinating,
and that man, for all the thousands of years he has
known of elephants, knows mighty little about him.
I am speaking only of the African elephant. He has
not been domesticated as his Indian cousin has. The
two are different in size and different in shape and
different in habits. The low point of an African
elephant’s back line is the highest point of that of the
Indian elephant. The African elephant’s ears and
_ tusks are larger, and his tusks usually spread wider
at the points instead of coming together. Unless
one studies him in his native haunts, one cannot get
to know him. His disposition is held to be wilder
than that of the Indian elephant, but the infrequency
of his appearance in circuses and in zodlogical parks
may be attributed to the ease with which tamed ele-
phants may be obtained from India rather than to
a difference of temper in the two beasts. An African
elephant at Washington and one in the Bronx zo-
ological park are the only ones I know of in this coun-
try, and no animal in captivity can give one more
than a slight idea of his natural habits in his jungle
home.

Very few people have studied African elephants
in the field. Ninety-five per cent. of those who have
followed them have been purely hunters and their
desire has been, not to study, but to shoot—to see the
elephant the shortest possible time. Time to judge
the ivories and get a bead on the brain was all that
they wanted. Of other elephant knowledge all that
they needed was the simple facts of how to follow and

22 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

find them. The comparatively few men who have
tried to study the elephant have not gained as much
knowledge as one would imagine, because without
trying it one cannot realize how extremely difficult
it is to study the live African elephant.

For example, as I said before, I spent a day with
seven hundred elephants in the Budongo Forest, but
although I heard them all the time and was very
acutely conscious that they were near me, I do not
believe that I actually had my eyes on an elephant
more than half an hour, all told, during the day. It
happened this way.

One night about dark, after a week or two of hunt-
ing, we heard the squeal of an elephant while we were
sitting at dinner. A little later there were more
squeals and occasional trumpeting—more and more,
clearer and clearer—and by the time we had finished
dinner the noise was only a mile or so away. It was
a continuous row which suggested a tremendous herd.
We went to bed early with elephants getting closer
to camp all of the time. There is little danger of
elephants attacking a camp, and, as there is no way
to study them at night, about the only thing left to
do was to go to bed and get in good shape for the next
day. Along about midnight Mrs. Akeley came over
to my tent and said that she had loaded my guns and
that they were all ready. She could not sleep; so
she went out to sit by the fire. The elephants were
then within a hundred yards of our tents and there
was a continuous roar made up of trumpetings,
squealing, and the crashing of bushes and trees.

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MR. AKELEY’S SAFARI LADEN WITH ELEPHANT SKINS

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES — 23

I got up in the morning and had breakfast before
daybreak. The elephants had moved on down the
edge of the forest. What had been a jungle of high
grass and bush the day before was trampled flat.
There were at least seven hundred elephants in the
herd—government officials had counted them on the
previous day as they came down. I followed the
trails to the edge of the forest but saw none. I started
back to cross a little zu//ah (a dry water course), but
felt suspicious and decided to look the situation over
a little more closely. I ran up on a sloping rock and,
almost under me on the other side, I saw the back of
a large elephant. Over to one side there was another
one, beyond that another, and then I realized that
the little zu//ah through which I had planned to pass
was very well sprinkled with them. I backed off and
went up to a higher rock to one side. Elephants
were drifting into the forest from all directions. The
sun was just coming up over the hills and was shining
upon the forest, which sparkled in the sunlight—
morning greetings to the forest people. The monkeys
greeted one another with barks and coughs. Every-
thing was waking up—it was a busy day. There
was not a breath of air. I had gone back a million
years; the birds were calling back and forth, the
monkeys were calling to one another, a troop of
chimpanzees in the open screamed, and their shouts
were answered from another group inside the forest.
All the forest life was awake and moving about as
that huge herd of elephants, singly and in groups,
flowed into the forest from the plain. There was one

24 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

continuous roar of noise, all the wild life joining, but
above it all were the crashing of trees and the squeal-
ing of the elephants as they moved into the forest on a
front at least a mile wide. It was the biggest show
I ever saw in Africa.

Then an old cow just at the edge of the forest sud-
denly got my wind, and wheeling about, she let out a
scream. Instantly every sound ceased, everything
was quiet. The monkeys, the birds—all the wild
life—stopped their racket; the elephants stood still,
listening and waiting. For a moment I was dazed.
The thought came through my mind—‘‘ What does it
all mean? Have I been dreaming?” But soon #
heard the rustling of the trees as though a great storm
werecoming. ‘There was no movement of the air, but
there was the sound of a wind storm going through a
forest. It gradually died away, and I realized that the
elephants had made it as they moved off. It was
the rustling of the dry leaves on the ground under
their feet and the rubbing of their bodies through the
dried foliage of the forest. I never heard a noise
like that made by elephants—before or since. The
conditions were unique, for everything was thor-
oughly parched, and there had not even been a dew.
Ordinarily, if there is any moisture, elephants when
warned can travel through a forest without the slight-
est noise. In spite of their great bulk they are as
silent and sometimes as hard to see in their country
as a jack rabbit isin his. I remember on one occasion
being so close to an old cow in the jungle that I could
hear the rumbling of her stomach, and yet when she

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES ~ 25

realized my presence the’ rumbling ceased, as it al-
ways does when they are suspicious, and she left the
clump of growth she was in without my hearing a
sound.

But going back to the big herd. From the time I
had seen the first elephant until the last of them
disappeared in the forest it had been perhaps fifteen
minutes—fifteen minutes in which to see the sight of
a lifetime, a thing to go to Africa a dozen times to
get one glimpse of. But what did I learn about the
habits of the elephant in that fifteen minutes? A
little perhaps but not much. It takes a long time and
much patience to get at all intimate with old Tembo,
as the Swahilis call him, on his native soil.

After the herd disappeared in the forest I watched
for ten or fifteen minutes and heard the squeal of the
elephants and the noise of the monkeys again. Their
suspicions were over. I followed into the forest
where the trails showed me that they had broken up
into small bands. I followed along on the trail of
one of these bands until I got a glimpse of an elephant
about fifty yards ahead of me in the trail. You
don’t see a whole elephant in the forest. What you
do see is just a glimpse of hide or tusk or trunk
through the trees. And if you want to get this
glimpse without disturbing him you must do your
glimpsing from down the wind.

There was a little open space ahead of the group I
was following. J worked around until I got to a
place where I could see them as they passed through
this open space. They were moving along slowly,

26 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

feeding. Two or three came out into the opening,
then they became suspicious and wheeled into the
forest again. I followed cautiously. I had gone only
a short distance when I saw a very young calf about’
twenty yards ahead of me. As I halted, the mother
came trotting back down the trail looking for the
baby. I froze to the side of a tree with my gun ready.
She came to the baby and turning, boosted it along
with her trunk after the rest of the herd. I followed
along after them into an opening where I found them
rounded up in a patch of burned-over ground. They
were milling around in a rather compact mass seem-
ingly preparing for defence. I could not see very
plainly, for a cloud of dust rose from the burned
ground as they shuffled about. I stood watching
them a little time and suddenly caught sight of a
fine tusk—an old bull and just what I wanted for the
group I was working on for the Museum of Natural
History. I ran up behind a bush at the edge of the
clearing and peeked through it. There, not more
than twenty yards from me, was my bull, partially
exposed and partially covered by the other animals.
I could not get a shot at his brain as he was standing,
but the foreleg on my side was forward exposing his
side so that I had a good shot at his heart—a shot
I had never made before. The heart is eighteen or
twenty inches long and perhaps a foot up and down—
a good mark in size if one’s guess at its location is
accurate. Ifyou can hit an elephant’s vertebre and
break his back you can kill him. You can kill him
by hitting his heart, or by hitting his brain. If you

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES == 27

hit him anywhere else you are not likely to hurt him
much and the brain and heart shots are the only safe
bets. I fired at his heart with both barrels and then
grabbed my other gun from the gun boy, ready for
their rush, but the whole herd, including the old
bull, made off in the other direction, raising a cloud of
dust. J ran around and climbed an ant-hill four or
five feet high to keep them in sight.

When I caught sight of them they had gone about
_ fifty yards and had stopped. And then I did learn
something about elephants. My old bull was down on
the ground on his side. Around him were ten ortwelve
other elephants trying desperately with their trunks
and tusks to get him on his feet again. They were doing
their best to rescue their wounded comrade. They
moved his great bulk fifteen or twenty feet in their
efforts, but were unable to get him up. I don’t know
of any other big animals that will do this. I had
heard stories that elephants had the chivalry to stick
by their wounded and help them, but I was never
sure myself until I had actually seen this instance.
Some time later Major Harrison, a very experienced
elephant hunter and a keen observer, told me of an
even more remarkable instance that he had seen. He
was shooting in the Congo and came upon four big
bulls. One he killed and another he wounded. The
wounded one went down but the two survivors helped
him regain his feet, and with one on each side helping
him the three moved off. Although Major Harrison
followed the rest of the day he was not able to catch
up with them.

28 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

I did not see the end of their efforts to raise the
bull I had shot, for those that were not helping him
began to circle about with their ears out to hear any-
thing of their enemy and with their trunks up feeling
for my wind. They were moving in ever-increasing
circles which threatened to envelop my ant-hill, and
I beat a hasty retreat. Not long after they evidently
were convinced that the bull was dead and all to-
gether they moved away. I then went to the body.
He was dead, but as we approached there was a reflex
action which twitched his trunk from time to time.
This frightened the gun boys so that I went up and
slapped the elephant’s eye, the customary test, and
as there was no reaction the boys were convinced.
When I looked the carcass over I was disappointed
to find that only one of his tusks was big and well
developed. The other was smaller, and out of shape
from an injury; consequently I decided not to take
him for the museum group. He was, however, a
good deal of a temptation, for he was one of the larg-
est elephants I had ever seen, measuring eleven feet
four inches to the top of his shoulders, and the circum-
ference of his front foot was sixty-seven and a half
inches. To the best of my knowledge this is a record
size by about four inches. I did not even skin him
but contented myself with taking his tusks, which I
sold for nearly $500 without even going down to
Nairobi.

The phenomenon of elephants helping each other
when wounded is not general by any means. Only a
few days after shooting the big bull I had an instance

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES — 29

of elephants abandoning one of their number that
was wounded and not very badly wounded, either.

I had gone into the forest again, and had come upon
another bunch in very thick country. I could only
get little glimpses of a patch of hide or ivory once in
a while. After working along with them for a while
in the hope of getting into more open ground I tried
the experiment of beating on the tree trunks with
sticks. This was new to them as it was to me. I
felt sure it would make them run but I wasn’t sure
whether they would go toward it or away from it.
Happily they bolted from the forest into the high
grass, grumbling all the while. I followed as closely
as I dared until finally, in hope of getting a view over
the top of the high grass, I started to climb a tree.
Just then they rushed back into the forest, fortu-
nately to one side of me. I thought it was time to
quit, so we started back to camp. At that moment
I heard another group of elephants. They were com-
ing out of the forest into the grass. I climbed up
an ant-hill where I could see them as they passed over
aridge. There were eleven of them and not a speci-
men that I wanted among them. I stood watching
to see what would happen next. They were about
three hundred yards away when they got my wind.
Back they came, rumbling, trumpeting, and squeal-
ing. I knew that I had trouble on my hands. The
only thing for me to do was to stick, for if I got down
in the tall grass I couldn’t see anything at all. They
came up over a hill, but they were not coming straight
toward me and it looked as if they would pass me at

30 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

forty or fifty yards; but, unfortunately, the cow in
front saw me standing in full view on my ant-hill
pedestal. They turned straight at me. When the
leading cow was as close as I wanted her to get—
about twenty-five yards—I fired. She hesitated but
again surged on with the others. A second shot
knocked her down. The rest surged past her, turned,
smelled of her, and ran off into the forest. After a
few minutes she got upon her feet and rather groggily
went off after them.

Elephants have the reputation of having very bad
eyesight. I personally am of the opinion that their
sight is pretty good, but on this subject, as on most
others about elephants, information is neither com-
plete nor accurate. But my experience makes me
think that they can see pretty well. In this case the
cow that saw me was only about fifty yards away, but
at another time on the Uasin Gishu Plateau an ele-
phant herd charged me from 250 yards with the wind
from them to me. The behaviour of this particular
herd gave me a clue to their reputation for bad eye-
sight. The elephant is not afraid of any animal ex-
cept man, and consequently he is not on the alert
for moving objects as are animals that are hunted.
Neither does he eat other animals, so he is not inter-
ested in their movements as a hunter. In fact, he
isn’t normally particularly interested in moving ob-
jects at all. He pays no attention. When we first
came up with this herd on the Uasin Gishu Plateau
we could move around within fifty yards of them
without attracting their attention. However, after

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES 32

they got our wind and recognized us as enemies, they
were able to see us at a distance of 250 yards, and
charge us.

But however good the elephant’s sight, it is noth-
ing in comparison with his smelling ability. An ele-
phant’s trunk is probably the best smelling apparatus
in the world, and he depends on his sense of smell
more than on any other sense. When he is at all
suspicious he moves his trunk around in every direc-
_ tion so that he catches the slightest taint in the air,
from whichever way it comes. I have often seen ele-
phants, when disturbed, with their trunks high in air
reaching all around for my wind. I likewise, on one
occasion, had an intimate view of a very quiet smell-
ing operation by which an old cow escaped me. I
was on an elephant path one day on Mt. Kenia look-
ing for an elephant I had heard, when my gun-bearer
gripped my shoulder and pointed into the forest. I
looked and looked but could see nothing but the trees.
Finally I noticed that one of the trees diminished in
size toward the ground and I recognized an elephant’s
trunk. My eyes followed it down. At the very tip
it was curled back, and this curled-back part, with
the nostrils distended, was moving slowly from side
to side quietly fishing for my wind. She was waiting
concealed beside the trail to pick me up as I came
along. She was no more than forty feet away, but
when she decided to give up and moved away, I could
not hear her going although it was a dense forest
and she was accompanied by two youngsters. Very
often in the forest where there is very little air stirring

32 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

it is hard to tell the direction of the wind. I used to
light wax taper matches as tests, for they could be
struck without any noise and the flame would show
the direction of the slightest breath of air.

In many other ways besides its smelling ability the
elephant’s trunk is the most extraordinary part of
this most extraordinary animal. A man’s arm has a
more or less universal joint at the shoulder. The
elephant’s trunk is absolutely flexible at every point.
It can turn in any direction and in whatever position
it is, and has tremendous strength. There is no bone
in it, of course, but it is constructed of interwoven
muscle and sinew so tough that one can hardly cut
it with a knife. An elephant can shoot a stream of
water out of it that would put out a fire; lift a tree
trunk weighing a ton and throw it easily; or it is
delicate enough to pull a blade of grass with. He
drinks with it, feeds himself with it, smells with it,
works with it, and at times fights withit. Incidentally,
a mouse that endeavoured to frighten an elephant
by the traditional nursery rhyme method of running
up his trunk would be blown into the next county.
There is nothing else like an elephant’s trunk on earth.

And for that matter, there is nothing else like the
elephant. He has come down to us through the ages,
surviving the conditions which killed off his earlier
contemporaries, and he now adapts himself perfectly
to more different conditions than any other animal
in Africa.

He can eat anything that is green or ever has been
green, just so long as there is enough of it. He can

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES 33

get his water from the aloe plants on the arid plains,
or dig a well in the sand of a dry river bed with his
trunk and fore feet, and drink there, or he is equally
at home living half in the swamps of better-watered
regions. He is at home on the low, hot plains of the
seacoast at the equator or on the cool slopes of Kenia
and Elgon. So far as I know, he suffers from no con-
tagious diseases and has no enemies except man.
There are elephants on Kenia that have never lain
down for a hundred years. Some of the plains ele-
phants do rest lying down, but no one ever saw a Kenia
elephant lying down or any evidence that he does lie
down to rest. The elephant is a good traveller. On
good ground a good horse can outrun him, but on
bad ground the horse would have no chance, and there
are few animals that can cover more ground in a day
than anelephant. And in spite of his appearance, he
can turn with surprising agility and move through
the forest as quietly as a rabbit.

An elephant’s foot is almost as remarkable as his
trunk. In the first place, his foot is encased in a
baglike skin with a heavy padded bottom, with some
of the characteristics of an anti-skid tire. An ele-
phant walks on his toes. His toes form the front
part of his foot and the bones of his foot run not only
back but up. Underneath these bones at the back
of his foot is a gelatine-like substance, which is a much
more effective shock absorber than rubber heels or
any other device. One of the curious things about
this kind of a foot is that it swells out when the weight
is on it and contracts when the weight is removed.

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34

PEEPRHANT FRIENDS: AND FOES '\) 3%

As a consequence an elephant may sink four feet into
a swamp but the minute he begins to lift his legs, his
feet will contract and come out of the hole they have
made without suction. The elephant’s leg, being
practically a perpendicular shaft, requires less mus-
cular effort for him to stand than it does for ordinary
animals. This is one of the reasons why he can go
for a century without lying down.

A country that elephants have long inhabited takes
on some of the particular interest of the animals them~
selves. I believe that before the white man came to
East Africa the elephant was nearly as much a plains
animal as a forest animal, but he now tends to stay
in the forests where the risk is not so great. On
the plains there are no elephant paths now, if there
ever were, for in open country elephants do not go
in single file. But in the forests there are elephant
paths everywhere. In fact, if it were not for the ele-
phant paths travel in the forest would be almost im-
possible, and above the forests in the bamboo country
this is equally true. One travels practically all the
time on their trails and they go everywhere except
in the tree ferns. Tree fern patches are not very
extensive, but I have never seen an elephant track or
an elephant in them. The elephants are constantly
changing the paths for various reasons; among others,
because the natives are in the habit of digging ele-
phant pits in the trails. But there are some trails
that have evidently been used for centuries. One
time we had followed a band of elephants on the
Aberdare Plateau and had devilled them until they

36 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA —

began to travel away. We followed until the trail
led through a pass in the mountains and we realized
that they were going into a different region altogether.
That trail in the pass was a little wider than an ele-
phant’s foot and worn six inches deep in the solid
rock. It must have taken hundreds of years for the
shuffling of elephants to wear that rock away.

At another place on Kenia I found an elephant
passage of a stream where the trail was twenty feet
wide. Single paths came in from many directions on
one side of the stream and joined in this great boule-
vard, which crossed the stream and broke up ‘again
on the other side into the single paths radiating
again in every direction. In many places where the
‘topography of the ground is such that there is only
one place for a trail there will be unmistakable evi-
dence that the trails have stayed in the same place
many years—such as trees rubbed half in two by the
constant passing of the animals or damp rocks pol-
ished by the caress of their trunks. And along all
the trails, old and new, are elephant signs, footprints,
dung, and gobs of chewed wood and bark from which
they have extracted the juices before spitting them
out.

But finding the elephants is not so frequent or easy
as the multiplicity of the signs would indicate. One
reason is that the signs of elephants—tracks, rubbed
trees, and so forth—are more or less enduring, many
of them being very plain in places where the elephants
have not been for months or even years. — If, however,
you come on fresh elephant tracks, not more than a

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES 37

day old, you can usually catch up with the elephants,
for as they feed along through the country they do
not go fast. Only if they are making a ¢rek from one
region to another it may take much longer to catch
them.

Once up with an elephant, if you are shooting, you
are pretty sure that, even if he is charging you, a
bullet from an elephant gun, hitting him in the head,
will stop him even if it does not hit him in a vital
spot. Moreover, if you stop the leader of a bunch
that is charging you, the bunch will stop. I never
heard of a case in which the leader of an elephant
charge was stopped and the others kept on, and I
doubt if we ever will hear of such a thing, for if it
does happen there won’t be any one to tell about
it. It is unusual for an elephant to keep on after
being hit even if the hit does not knock him down.
The old cow that charged me at the head of ten
others was rather the exception to this rule, for after
my first shot stopped her she came on again until my
second shot knocked her down. But I had one ex-
perience that was entirely at variance with this rule.
One old bull took thirteen shots from my rifle and
about as many from Mrs. Akeley’s before he was
content either to die or run away.

In Uganda, after six months in the up-country after
elephants, we decided to go down to the Uasin Gishu
Plateau for lion spearing, for the rainy season was
beginning and the vegetation growing so thick that
elephant hunting was getting very difficult. On the
way down we came one morning upon the fresh trail

a

38 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

of a herd of elephants. We followed for about two
hours in a high bush country over which were scat-
tered clumps of trees. Finally we came upon the
elephants at the time of their mid-day siesta. The
middle of the day is the quietest time of the twenty-
four hours with elephants. If they are ina herd, they
will bunch together in the shade. They do not stand
absolutely still, but mill about very slowly, changing
positions in the bunch but not leaving. They are
neither feeding nor travelling but, as nearly as they
ever do, resting. J evensawa young bull once rest his
tusks in the crotch of a tree during this resting period.
We got up to within twenty-five yards of them behind
some bushes down the wind. We finally decided
upon one of the bulls as the target. Mrs. Akeley
studied carefully and shot. The bull went down, ap-
parently dead. Ordinarily, we should rush in for a
finishing shot, but in this case the rest of the herd
did not make off promptly, so we stood still. When
they did go off we started toward the apparently
dead animal. As we did so, he got upon his feet
and, in spite of a volley from us, kept on after the
herd. We followed, and after half an hour’s travel
we caught sight of him again. We kept along be-
hind him, looking for a place where we could swing
out to one side and get abreast to firea finishing shot
at him. He was moving slowly and groggily. It
was hard to move anywhere except in his trail without
making a noise, and I suddenly discovered that the
trail was turning so that the wind was from us to him.

Immediately we swung off to one side, but it was too

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES — 39

late. I didn’t see him when he got our wind but I
knew perfectly he had it for there was the sudden
crash of his wheel in the bushes and a scream. An
elephant’s scream is loud and shrill and piercing. And
it is terrifying, too—at least to any one who knows
elephants—for it means an angry animal and usually
a charge. Then came a series of grunts and rum-
blings. A second or two later he came in sight, his
ears spread out twelve feet from tip to tip, his trunk
up and jerking fiercely from side to side. There is no
_ way of describing how big an elephant looks under |
these conditions, or the speed at which he comes.
At about thirty yards I shot, but he took it. He
stopped, seemingly puzzled but unhurt. I shot the
second barrel and looked for my other gun which was
thirty feet behind me. The boy ran up with it and
I emptied both barrels into the elephant’s head, and
still he took it like a sand hill. In the meanwhile,
Mrs. Akeley had been firing, too. And then he
turned and went off again. I went back to Mrs.
Akeley. Everything that I knew about elephant
shooting had failed to apply in this case. I had
stopped him with one shot. That was normal
enough. But then I had put three carefully aimed
shots into his head at short range, any one of which
should have killed him. And he had taken them with
only a slight flinch and then had gone off. I felt
completely helpless. Turning to Mrs. Akeley, I said:

“This elephant is pretty well shot up, and perhaps
we had better wait for developments.”

She said: ‘‘No, we started it; so let’s finish it.”

a

40 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

I agreed as we reloaded, and we were about to start
following when his screaming, grunting, roaring at-
tack began again. Exactly the same thing happened
as the first time except that this time Mrs. Akeley,
the boy, and I were all together. We fired as we had
before. He stopped with the first shot and took all
the others standing, finally turning and retreating
again. Apparently our shots had no effect except
to make him stop and think. I was sick of it, for
maybe next time he wouldn’t stop and evidently we
couldn’t knock him down. We had about finished
reloading when we heard him once more. There was
nothing to do but stand the charge, for to run was
fatal. So wewaited. There was an appreciable time
when I could hear his onrush but couldn’t see him.
Then I caught sight of him. He wasn’t coming
straight for us, but was charging at a point thirty yards
to one side of us and thrashing back and forth a great
branch of tree in his trunk. Why his charge was so
misdirected I didn’t know, but I was profoundly
grateful. As he ran I had a good brain shot from the
side. I fired, and he fell stone dead. With the
greatest sense of relief in the world I went over to
him. As I stood by the carcass I felt very small in-
deed. Mrs. Akeley sat down and drew a long breath
before she spoke.

“T want to go home,” she said at last,
house for the rest of my life.”

Then I heard a commotion in the bush in front of
the dead elephant and as I looked up a black boy
carrying a cringing monkey appeared. Only the

¢

‘and keep

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES 41

boy wasn’t black. He was scared to an ashen colour
and he was still trembling, and the monkey was as
frightened as the boy. It was J.T. Jr., Mrs. Akeley’s
pet monkey, and Alli, the monkey’s nurse. They
had followed to see the sport without our knowledge,
and they had drawn the elephant’s last charge.

This experience with an animal that continued to
make charge after charge was new to me. It has
never happened again and I hope never will, but it
_ shows that with elephants it isn’t safe to depend on
any fixed rule, for elephants vary as much as people
do. This one was the heaviest-skulled elephant I
ever saw, and the shots that I had fired would have
killed any ordinary animal. But in his case all but
the last shot had been stopped by bone.

I couldn’t measure his height, but I measured his
ear as one indication of his size. It was the biggest
I ever heard of. And his tusks were good sized—8o
pounds. He was a very big animal, but his foot
measurement was not so large as the big bull of the
Budongo Forest. Later I made a dining table of
his ear, supporting it on three tusks for legs. With
the wooden border it was eight feet long and seated
eight people very comfortably.

Most wild animals, if they smell man and have an
opportunity to get away, make the most of it. Even
a mother with young will usually try to escape trouble
rather than bring it on, although, of course, they are
quickest to fight. But elephants are not always in
this category. In the open it has been my experience
that they would rather leave than provoke a fight; if

42 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

you hunt elephants in the forest, you are quite likely
to find that two can play the hunting game, and find
yourself pretty actively hunted by the elephants. If
the elephants after you are making a noise, it gives you
a good chance. When they silently wait for you, the
game is much more dangerous.

The old bull, who is in the centre of the elephant
group in the Museum of Natural History now, tried
to get me by this silent method. I was out on a trail
and I saw that a big bunch of animals were near. I
wasn’t following any particular trail for they had
moved about so that signs were everywhere and much
confused. Finally I came to a gully. It wasn’t
very broad or very deep, but the trail I was on turned
up it to where a crossing could be made on the level.
The forest here was high and very thick, and conse-
quently it was quite dark. As J looked up the trail I
saw a group of big shapes through the branches. I
thought they were elephants and peered carefully at
them, but they turned out to be boulders. A minute
later I saw across the gully another similar group of
boulders, but as I peered at them I saw through a
little opening in the leaves, plain and unmistakable,
an elephant’s tusk. I watched it carefully. It
moved alittle, and behind it I caught a glimpse of the
other tusk. They were big, and I decided that he
would do for my group. I couldn’t get a glimpse of
his eye or anything to sight by, so I carefully calcu-
lated where his brain ought to be from the place where
his tusk entered his head, and fired. Then there was
the riot of an elephant herd suddenly starting. A few

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES — 43

seconds later there was a crash. ‘“‘He’s down,”
I thought, and Bill, the gun boy, and I ran over
to the place where the animals had been. We fol-
lowed their tracks a little way and found where one
of the elephants had been down, but he had re-
covered and gone on. However, he had evidently
gone off by himself when he got up, for while the
others had gone down an old trail he had gone straight
through the jungle, breaking a new way as he went.
~ With Bill in the lead, we pushed along behind him.
It was a curious trail, for it went straight ahead with-
out deviation as if it had been laid by compass. One
hour went by and then another. We had settled
down for a long trek. The going wasn’t very good
and the forest was so thick that we could not see in
any direction. We were pushing along in this fashion
when, with a crash and a squeal, an elephant burst
across our path within fifteen feet of us. It was ab-
solutely without warning, and had the charge been
straight on us we could hardly have escaped. As it
was, I fired two hurried shots as he disappeared in the
growth on the opposite side of the trail. The old
devil had grown tired of being hunted and had
doubled back on his own trail to wait for us. He
had been absolutely silent. We hadn’t heard a thing,
and his plan failed, I think, only because the growth
was so thick that he charged us on scent or sound
without being able to see us. I heard him go through
the forest a way and then stop. I followed until I
found a place a little more open than the rest, and
with this between me and the trees he was in I waited.

44 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

I could hear him grumbling in there from time to
time. I didn’t expect him to last much longer so I
got my lunch and ate it while I listened and watched.
I had just finished and had a puff or two on my pipe
when he let out another squeal and charged. He
evidently had moved around until he had wind of me.
I didn’t see him but I heard him, and grabbing the
gun I stood ready. But he didn’t come. Instead I
heard the breaking of the bushes as he collapsed.
His last effort had been too much for him.

The efforts of the next elephant who tried the quiet
waiting game on me were almost too much for me.

We had just come down from the ice fields seven-
teen thousand feet up on the summit of Mt. Kenia,
overlord of the game regions of British East Africa,
and had come out of the forest directly south of the
pinnacle and within two or three miles of an old camp-
ing ground in the temperate climate, five or six thou-
sand feet above sea level, where we had camped five
years before and again one year before. Instead
of going on around toward the west to the base camp
we decided to stop here and have the base camp
brought up tous. Mrs. Akeley was tired, so she said
she would stay at the camp and rest; and I decided
to take advantage of the time it would take to bring
up the base camp to go back into the bamboo and
get some forest photographs.

There was perfectly good elephant country around
our camp but I wanted to go back up where the
forests stop and the bamboo flourishes, because it
was a bamboo setting that I had selected for the group

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES 4;

of elephants I was then working on for the African
Hall in the American Museum of Natural History.
I started out with four days’ rations, gun boys, porters,
camera men, and so forth—fifteen men in all. The
second day out brought me to about nine thousand
feet above sea level where the bamboo began. Fol-
lowing a well-worn elephant trail in search of this
photographic material, I ran on to a trail of three old
bulls. The tracks were old—probably as much as
_ four days—but the size was so unusual that I decided
to postpone the photography and follow them. I
did not expect to have to catch up their four days’
travel, for I hoped that they would be feeding in
the neighbourhood and that the trail I was on would
cross a fresher trail made in their wanderings around
for food. I had run upon their tracks first about
noon. I followed until dark without finding any
fresher signs. The next morning we started out at
daybreak and finally entered an opening such as
elephants use as a feeding ground. It is their custom
to mill around in these openings, eating the vegeta-
tion and trampling it down until it offers little more,
and then move on. In six months or so it will be
grown up again eight or ten feet high and they are
very apt to revisit it and go through the same proc-
ess again. Soon after we entered this opening I
came suddenly upon fresh tracks of the elephants I
had been following. Not only were the tracks fresh
but the droppings were still steaming and I knew that
the animals were not far away; certainly they had
been there not more than an hour before. I followed

46 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

the trail amongst the low bush in the opening but it
merely wandered about repeatedly bringing me back
to the place where I had first seen the fresh tracks, and
I realized that I might do this indefinitely without
getting closer to the elephants. I decided to go out-
side the opening and circle around it to see if I could
find the trail of my bulls as they entered the forest.
This opening was at the point on the mountain where
the forest proper and the bamboos merged. I fol-
lowed an elephant path out of the opening on the
bamboo side and had gone but a little way when I
discovered fresh signs of my three bulls, who had
evidently left the opening by the same path that I
was following, and at about the same time I heard
the crackling of bamboo ahead, probably about two
hundred yards away. This was the signal for prep-
aration for the final stalk.

I stood for a moment watching one of the trackers
going up the trail to a point where it turned at right
angles in the direction of the sounds I had heard.
There he stopped at rest, having indicated to me by
signs that they had gone in that direction. I turned
my back to the trail, watching the porters select a
place to lay down their loads amidst a clump of large
trees that would afford some protection in case of a
stampede in their direction. The gun boys came for-
ward presenting the guns for inspection. I took the
gun from the second boy, sending him back with the
porters. After examining this gun I gave it to the
first boy and took his. When I had examined this
I leaned it against my body while I chafed my hands

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES = 47

which were numb from the cold mists of the morning,
knowing that I might soon need a supple trigger
finger. During this time the first gun boy was taking
the cartridges, one by one, from his bandoleer and
holding them up for my inspection—the ordinary
precaution to insure that all the ammunition was the
right kind, and an important insurance, because only
a full steel-jacketed bullet will penetrate an elephant’s
head. While still warming my hands, inspecting the
cartridges, and standing with the gun leaning against
my stomach, I was suddenly conscious that an ele-
phant was almost on topofme. I have no knowledge
of how the warning came. I have no mental record
of hearing him, seeing him, or of any warning from
the gun boy who faced me and who must have seen
the elephant as he came down on me from behind.
There must have been some definite signal, but it was
not recorded in my mind. I only know that as [
picked up my gun and wheeled about I tried to shove
the safety catch forward. It refused to budge, and
I remember the thought that perhaps I had left the
catch forward when I inspected the gun and that if
not I must pull the triggers hard enough to fire the
gun anyway. This is an impossibility, but I remem-
ber distinctly the determination to do it, for the all-
powerful impulse in my mind was that I must shoot
instantly. Then something happened that dazed me.
I don’t know whether I shot or not. My next mental
record is of a tusk right at my chest. I grabbed it
with my left hand, the other one with my right hand,
and swinging in between them went to the ground

48 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

on my back. This swinging in between the tusks
was purely automatic. It was the result of many a
time on the trails imagining myself caught by an
elephant’s rush and planning what I would do, and a
very profitable planning, too; for I am convinced that
if a man imagines such a crisis and plans what he
would do, he will, when the occasion occurs, auto-
matically do what he planned. Anyway, I firmly be-
lieve that my imaginings along the trail saved my life.

He drove his tusks into the ground on either side

of me, his curled-up trunk against my chest. I had
a realization that I was being crushed, and as I looked
into one wicked little eye above me I knew I could
expect no mercy from it. This thought was perfectly
clear and definite in my mind. I heard a wheezy
grunt as he plunged down and then—oblivion.
_ The thing that dazed me was a blow from the ele-
phant’s trunk as he swung it down to curl it back
out of harm’s way. It broke my nose and tore my
cheek open to the teeth. Had it been an intentional
blow it would have killed me instantly. The part
of the trunk that scraped off most of my face was the
heavy bristles on the knuckle-like corrugations of the
skin of the under side.

When he surged down on me, his big tusks evidently
struck something in the ground that stopped them.
Of course my body offered practically no resistance
to his weight, and I should have been crushed as thin
as a wafer if his tusks hadn’t met that resistance—
stone, root, or something—underground. He seems
to have thought me dead for he left me—by some good

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES — 49

fortune not stepping on me—and charged off after
the boys. I never got much information out of the
boys as to what did happen, for they were not proud
of their part in the adventure. However, there were
plenty of signs that the elephant had run out into the
open space again and charged all over it; so it is
reasonable to assume that they had scattered through
it like a covey of quail and that he had trampled it
down trying to find the men whose tracks and wind
filled the neighbourhood.

Usually, when an elephant kills a man, it will re-
turn to its victim and gore him again, or trample
him, or pull his legs or arms off with its trunk. I
knew of one case where a man’s porters brought in
his arm which the elephant that had killed him had
pulled off his body and left lying on the ground. In
my case, happily, the elephant for some reason did
not come back. I lay unconscious for four or five
hours. In the meanwhile, when they found the
coast was clear, the porters and gun boys returned
and made camp, intending, no doubt, to keep guard
over my body until Mrs. Akeley, to whom they had
sent word, could reach me. They did not, however,
touch me, for they believed that I was dead, and
neither the Swahili Mohammedans nor the Kikuyus
will touch a dead man. So they built a fire and hud-
dled around it and I Jay unconscious in the cold
mountain rain at a little distance, with my body
crushed and my face torn open. About five o’clock
I came to in a dazed way and was vaguely conscious
of seeing a fire. I shouted, and a little later I felt

50 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

myself being carried by the shoulders and legs. Later
again I had a lucid spell and realized that I was lying
in one of the porter’s tents, and I got clarity of mind
enough to ask where my wife was. The boys an-
swered that she was back in camp. That brought
the events back to me, how I had left her at camp,
found the trail of the three old bulls, followed them
and, finally, how I was knocked out. I was entirely
helpless. I could move neither my arms nor legs and
I reached the conclusion that my back was broken.
I could not move, but I felt no pain whatever. How-
ever, my coldness and numbness brought to my mind
a bottle of cocktails, and I ordered one of the boys to
bring it to me. My powers of resistance must have
been very low, for he poured all there was in the bot-
tle down my throat. In the intervals of conscious-
ness, also, I got them to give me hot bovril—a British
beef tea—and quinine. The result of all this was that
the cold and numbness left me. I moved my arms.
The movement brought pain, but I evidently wasn’t
entirely paralyzed. I moved my toes, then my feet,
then my legs. ‘“‘Why,” I thought in some surprise,
“my back isn’t broken at all!’ So before I dropped off
again for the night I knew that I had some chance of
recovery. The first time I regained consciousness
in the morning, I felt that Mrs. Akeley was around.
I asked the boys if she had come. They said no,
and I told them to fire my gun every fifteen minutes.
Then I dropped off into unconsciousness again and
awoke to see her sitting by me on the ground.

When the elephant got me, the boys had sent two

BELEPHANT FRIENDS AND: FOES 53

runners to tell Mrs. Akeley. They arrived about six
in the evening. It was our custom when separated
to send notes to each other, or at least messages.
When these boys came on to say that an elephant
had got me, and when she found that there was no
word from me, it looked bad. Mrs. Akeley sent word
to the nearest government post for a doctor and
started her preparations to come to me that night.
She had to go after her guides, even into the huts of
a native village, for they did not want to start at
night. Finally, about midnight, she got under way.
She pushed along with all speed until about daybreak,
when the guides confessed that they were lost. At
this juncture she was sitting on a log, trying to think
what to do next. And then she heard my gun. She
answered, but it was more than an hour before the
sounds of her smaller rifle reached our camp. And
about an hour after the boys heard her gun she ar-
rived.

She asked me how I was, and I said that I was all
right. I noticed a peculiar expression on her face.
If I had had a looking glass, I should probably have
understood it better. One eye was closed and the
forehead over it skinned. My nose was broken and
my cheek cut so that it hung down, exposing my teeth.
I was dirty all over, and from time to time spit blood
from the hemorrhages inside. Altogether, I was an
unlovely subject and looked hardly worth saving.
But I did get entirely over it all, although it took me
three months in bed. The thing that was serious was
that the elephant had crushed several of my ribs

52 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

into my lungs, and these internal injuries took a long
time to heal. As a matter of fact, I don’t suppose I
would have pulled through even with Mrs. Akeley’s
care if it hadn’t been for a Scotch medical missionary
who nearly ran himself to death coming to my rescue.
He had been in the country only a little while and
perhaps this explains his coming so fast when news
reached him of a man who had been mauled by an
elephant. The chief medical officer at Fort Hall,
knowing better what elephant mauling usually meant,
came, but he didn’t hurry. I saw him later and he
apologized, but I felt no grievance. J understood the
situation. Usually when an elephant gets a man a
doctor can’t do anything for him.

But this isn’t always so. Some months later I sat
down in the hotel at Nairobi with three other men,
who like myself had been caught by elephants and
had lived to tell the tale. An elephant caught Black
in his trunk, and threw him into a bush that broke
his fall. The elephant followed him and stepped on
him, the bush this time forming a cushion that saved
him, and although the elephant returned two or three
times to give him a final punch, he was not killed.
However, he was badly broken up.

Outram and a companion approached an elephant
that was shot and down, when the animal suddenly
rose, grabbed Outram in his trunk and threw him.
The elephant followed him, but Outram scrambled
into the grass while the elephant trampled his pith
helmet into the ground, whereupon Outram got right
under the elephant’s tail and stuck to this position

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES = 53

while the elephant turned circles trying to find him,
until, becoming faint from his injuries, Outram dived
into the grass at one side. Outram’s companion
by this time got back into the game and killed the
elephant.

Hutchinson’s story I have forgotten a little now,
but I remember that he said the elephant caught him,
brushed the ground with him, and then threw him.
The elephant followed him and Hutchinson put off
fate a few seconds by somehow getting amongst the
elephant’s legs. The respite was enough, for the
gun boy, by this time, began firing and drove the
elephant off.

In all of these cases, unlike mine, the elephants had
used their trunks to pick up their victims and to throw
them, and they had intended finishing them by tram-
pling on them. This use of the trunk seems more
common than the charge with the tusks that had so
nearly finished me. Up in Somaliland Dudo Muh-
ammud, my gun boy, showed me the spot where he
had seen an elephant kill an Italian prince. The
elephant picked the prince up in his trunk and beat
him against his tusks, the prince, meanwhile, futilely
beating the elephant’s head with his fists. Then the
elephant threw him upon the ground, walked on him,
and then squatted on him, rubbing back and forth
until he had rubbed his body into the ground.

But elephants do use their tusks and use them
with terrible effect. About the time we were in the
Budongo Forest, Mr. and Mrs. Longdon were across
Lake Albert in the Belgian Congo. One day Longdon

54 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

shot a bull elephant and stood watching the herd
disappear, when a cow came down from behind,
unheard and unseen, ran her tusk clear through him
and, with a toss of her head, threw him into the bush
and went on. Longdon lived four days.

But although the elephant is a terrible fighter in
his own defence when attacked by man, that is not
his chief characteristic. The things that stick in my
mind are his sagacity, his versatility, and a certain
comradeship which I have never noticed to the same
degree in other animals. I like to think of the picture
of the two old bulls helping along their comrade
wounded by Major Harrison’s gun; to think of several
instances I have seen of a phenomenon, which I am
sure is not accidental, when the young and husky
elephants formed the outer ring of a group protecting
the older ones from the scented danger. I like to think
back to the day I saw the group of baby elephants
playing with a great ball of baked dirt two and a half
feet in diameter which, in their playing, they rolled
for more than half a mile, and the playfulness with
which this same group teased the babies of a herd of
buffalo until the cow buffaloes chased them off. I
think, too, of the extraordinary fact that I have never
heard or seen African elephants fighting each other.
They have no enemy but man and are at peace
amongst themselves.

It is my friend the elephant that I hope to perpetu-
ate in the central group in the Roosevelt African Hall
as it is now planned for the American Museum of
Natural History—a hall with groups of African ani-

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES 55

mal skins mounted on sculptured bodies, with back-
grounds painted from the country itself. In this,
which we hope will be an everlasting monument to
the Africa that was, the Africa that is now fast disap-
pearing, I hope to place the elephant group on a
pedestal in the centre of the hall—the rightful place
for the first animal of them all.

And it may not be many years before such museum
exhibits are the only remaining records of my jungle
friends. As civilization advances in Africa, the
extinction of the elephant is being accomplished
slowly but quite as surely as that of the American
buffalo two generations ago. It is probably not true
that the African elephant cannot be domesticated.
In fact, somewhere in the Congo is a farm where fifty
tame elephants, just as amenable as those in India,
are at work. But taming elephants is not a sound
proposition economically. Elephant farming is a
prince’s game, and Africa has no princes to play it.
An elephant requires hundreds of acres of land, in-
finitely more than cattle and sheep and the other
domesticated animals. So it is that as man moves on
the land, the elephant must move off.

Moreover, African settlers are making every effort
to hasten the process. Wherever the elephants refuse
to be confined to their bailiwicks and annoy the na-
tives by raiding their farms, the Government has ap-
pointed official elephant killers. The South African
elephant in the Addoo bush was condemned to be
exterminated several years ago. Here, however, the
hunters sent into the bush to kill them off found the

56 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

elephant too much for them and finally gave up the
attempt. Now they are being shot only as they come
out to molest the natives, with the result that they
are able to persist in the bush in limited numbers.
Uganda also has official elephant killers wherever
the elephants make trouble in the natives’ gardens.
In British East Africa and in Tanganyika a similar
situation exists. The game must eventually disappear
as the country is settled, and with it will be wiped out
the charm of Africa.

We had heard much of Ruindi Plains in the Belgian
Congo as the wonderful game country that it no doubt
used to be. Tomeitseemsavast graveyard. ‘There,
too, commercialism has played its part in exterminat-
ing the animals and, while we found two or three
species of antelope and many lions, other large game
is very rare. I suppose that the Ruindi Valley was
discovered among the last of the great game pockets
and that ivory poachers are responsible for the disap-
pearance of much of the other game as well as of the
elephant. The forested valley, which I went through
for perhaps ten miles, carried every evidence of having

been a wonderful game country in the past, but only

a pitiful remnant of the splendid animals who once
made it their home remains. Along great elephant
boulevards, all overgrown, weaving through the
forest, one may occasionally track a single elephant
or a small band. A small herd of buffalo grazes
where a few years ago there were great numbers.

In our journey north from Cape Town by rail we
saw not a single head of game until we reached the

ELEPHANT FRIENDS AND FOES 57

Lualaba River, and during the five days that we spent
going down that river we saw only a few antelope,
perhaps a half dozen elephants and, as I remember it,
two or three hippopotami. On the entire journey
to within fifty miles of Lake Edward and in all our
hunting we found signs of only a few small bands of
elephants. Men have spoken of darkest Africa, but
the dark chapters of African history are only now
being written by the inroads of civilization.

CHAPTER (it
MY ACQUAINTANCE WITH LIONS

OR many thousands of years lions have ap-
peared in literature and art as savage and
ferocious animals. For about that length of

time man has been attacking lions and when the
lions fought back man has set down this judgment
against them. At the same time, with the criticism
of his savagery, man has put in all his records testi-
mony to the courage, strength, and fighting qualities
of what has been called through the ages the King
of Beasts.

The lion’s savagery is very much the same as man’s
—that is, he kills other animals for food. and not
having developed any specialized industries like the
packers, each lion kills for himself. His day’s work,
instead of getting money to buy food, consists chiefly
in getting food, and he goes about it something in
this manner. About dusk he comes out from his
resting place, yawns, stretches, and looks about for
something to eat. In East Africa his favourite diet
is zebra, but he likes any of the game animals, and
he prefers the larger animals to the smaller antelope
because the larger ones are easier to catch. His in-
tention is to get his food the easiest and quickest way.
He goes out on the plains and by scent, sight, and

58

MY ACQUAINTANCE! WITH) LIONS: $9

hearing locates a herd of zebra, for example. He then
gets down wind from what he hopes will be his next
meal and stalks to within rushing distance. He can
outrun a zebra for a short distance, and when within
striking distance he makes a sudden dash. I think
that the zebra is thrown by the lion’s spring and then
killed by a bite in the back of the neck, but this im-
pression is from deduction and not from observation.
I have seen a lot of animals that lions had killed but
J never saw a lion in the act of killing. In fact, the
methods which lions use in hunting are not known in
detail from observation, for not enough instances have
ever been witnessed and recorded to make the basis
for any general statement which could be considered
scientifically accurate.

When he has captured his animal the lion will eat
and then lie near it perhaps all night, perhaps all the
next day, if he is not disturbed, eating as he desires.
If he leaves his kill the jackals, hyenas, and vul-
tures will clean it up immediately, and as the lion
kills for food and not for sport or the pleasure of
killing, he is content with one kill as long as the meat
lasts.

The lion group, as I have designed it for the Roose-
velt African Hall, will show in the foreground a
trickling stream where the lions have come at dawn
to drink, while, at a distance on the plains, the vul-
tures and jackals are approaching the kill the lions
have just left.

Lion hunters are not agreed about how much lions
depend on sight, on sound, and on smell. It is not

60 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

altogether easy to tell how soon they know the pres-
ence of man or of other animals, for they do not al-
ways show what they know. For instance, I once
had the startling experience of getting within three
feet of a lioness before she moved. She, of course,
knew I was there long before I got that close, and yet
until I almost stepped on her she made no sign. There
is, however, no question but that the lion has a sharp,
far sight in the daytime, and from the size of the pupil
and his nocturnal habits of hunting I think he has
unusually keen sight at night. I have never seen any
indication that a lion has the keen smell of a dog or
any animal that hunts by scent, nor have I ever seen
anything to make me believe that he has any ab-
normal sense of hearing.

While many things about lions’ habits are con-
troversial, I think that practically everyone who has
had experience with them will agree that they are
not savage in the sense of killing for the mere sake of
killing. There are a few isolated cases which seem to
conflict with this statement, but the great mass of
testimony confirms it. There was a seeming excep-
tion to this rule which happened to an English travel-
ler and his wife in Somaliland. They were intent on
getting a lion by “baiting”—that is, they killed an
animal and left it as bait for the lions while they hid
in a thorn oma which they built near by. There was
only a small hole in the oma through which to watch
and shoot. They stationed a black boy at this hole
to watch while they slept. They awoke to find that a
lion had stuck his head into the hole and killed the

MY ACQUAINTANCE WITH LIONS 61

black boy—bitten his head clear off, so the local story
goes. However, no one knows why the lion killed
the boy in this case for, of the three possible witnesses,
two were asleep and the third dead.

It is possible, of course, that the lion deliberately
attacked the Joma without provocation, but it seems
unlikely, for lions are driven to these extremities
chiefly by hunger; and in this case the lion could have
satisfied his hunger by the bait that had been laid
out for him. The usual man-eater is an old lion, who
in the season of scattered game finds it impossible
with his failing strength and speed to catch animals
for food. To keep from starving he attacks the na-
tive flocks and herds, or the natives themselves. The
most famous man-eaters, the lions of Tsavo, which
spread such terror as almost to stop construction on
a part of the Uganda railway, were, indeed, an excep-
tion to the rule. Colonel Patterson, whose classic
account of them is one of the great animal stories of
the world, accounted for these young, vigorous
animals becoming man-eaters because some of the
coolie workers who died were put in the bush unburied
and the lions had acquired a taste for human flesh
by eating these bodies. After this taste was acquired
these lions hunted men just as the ordinary lion
hunted zebras. They made a regular business of it.
It was their daily fare, and they took a terrible toll
before they were finally killed. But these lions were
killing for food just as if they were killing zebras.

Even when forced to fight, the lion is not vindictive.
If an elephant gets a man he is likely to trample on

62 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

his victim and mutilate him even after he is dead. I
have never known of lions doing this. On the other
hand, as soon as their adversary is dead, often as soon
as he is quiet, they will let him alone. The game
animals on which the lions are accustomed to feed
corroborate this characteristic. They know that the
lion kills for food at night and they likewise know
that he kills only for food, so in the daytime they do
not bother about lions particularly. I have seen lions
trot through a herd of game within easy striking
distance of many of the animals without causing any
disturbance.

So far as I know, except for the comparatively few
man-eaters, lions are never the aggressors. More
than that, they prefer to get out of the way of man
rather than fight him, and they will put up with a
good deal of disturbance and inconvenience and even
pain before they will fight. But once decided to
fight they will fight with an amazing courage even if
there are plenty of opportunities to escape.

I had an experience which showed both these
aspects of a lion’s nature. Frederick M. Stephenson,
John T. McCutcheon, the cartoonist, Mrs. Akeley,
and I were hunting lions. J had a moving-picture
camera and the others were armed with guns. One
day the natives rounded up a lioness in a patch of
uncommonly tall, thick grass. The beaters hesitated
to go in after her, so I took a gun and McCutcheon
and I joined the porters, leaving Stephenson and
Mrs. Akeley outside. The grass was so thick that
we had to take our rifles in both hands and push the

MY ACQUAINTANCE WITH LIONS 63

_ grass down in front of us and then walk on it. We
had made some progress in this manner when sud-
denly, as we were pushing down the grass, it was
thrown violently back, jerking our rifles up and almost
throwing us over. It was the lioness. We had
pressed the grass down right on her back. Yet de-
spite this intrusion she made off and did not attack
us.

As she went out of the grass into the open, Stephen-
son shot at her and missed. Some of the boys rode
after her on horseback and rounded her up in another
patch of cover. By this time, however, her patience
had run out. She could have run some more had she
wanted to, but she didn’t want to. When Stephen-
son approached the cover with his gun boys she took
the initiative and charged. His first shot stopped
her a second, but she came on again. His second
shot killed her.

My first black-maned lion showed the same char-
acteristics. He, too, preferred peace to war, although
I originally disturbed him with his kill, but finally,
when he declared war, although he was badly
wounded, he preferred to charge two white men and
thirty natives rather than try to escape.

I had gone up on the Mau Plateau to shoot fopi.
The plateau is about 8,000 feet above sea level there
and I didn’t expect to find any lions. One day I
discovered two opi in a little valley between two
gentle rises. I was crawling up to the top of one of
the rises overlooking the valley to get a shot when I
noticed some movement in the grass on the slope

64 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

opposite. I thought it was another “opi. As I
raised myself a little to shoot I noticed that the origi-
nal pair that I was hunting were gazing with fixed
attention toward some movement on the far hillside.
I looked again and saw an old lion get up and walk
to the top of the hill, turn round facing me, and lie
down to watch the valley from his side as I was watch-
ing it from mine. We were about 400 yards from
each other. In the valley between were the sop/, and
also I noticed a dead zebra. Evidently I had dis-
turbed him at his previous night’s kill. My pony
and gun boys were some distance behind and I had
only one cartridge left in my double-barrelled cordite
rifle. Under these conditions I reluctantly decided
to go back for proper equipment. My reluctance
was not merely at losing a lion but at losing that
particular lion, for he had a great black mane and no
one had killed a black-maned lion in that part of
Africa.

By the time I got back with my cartridges and the
gun boys, he had disappeared. We began beating
about to see if we could find him or his trail, but with-
out success. We did, however, find the remains of
several kills, which led me to think that this single old
fellow had found the neighbourhood good hunting,
and was making a more or less prolonged stay. Un-
der the circumstances I felt it wise to go to camp and
get my companion, Shaw Kennedy, and our thirty
beaters to hunt him out the next day.

Before going, however, I planned a campaign. Not
far from where the lion had been a ravine began,

MY ACQUAINTANCE WITH LIONS — 65

which ran some distance and ended in a thick piece
of forest. The sides of the ravine were covered with
clumps of thick bush. Into one of these I felt sure
the lion had retreated. Unless closely pushed he
would not go into the forest. My plan was to enter
the ravine the next day at the forest end so that he
could not escape to safety among the trees, and drive
up the ravine to force him out into the open.

When we got to the edge of the forest the next
morning Kennedy and I drew lots for the choice of
position. He won and chose the upper end of the
ravine toward which we were to drive, while I was
to follow up behind the beaters to get him if he broke
back. Of course we were not sure that our quarry
was even in the neighbourhood, but I had great hope
of everything except getting this first black-maned
specimen myself, for Kennedy’s position made it
almost certain that he would get the animal if any
one did. The first patch of bush that the beaters
tackled was about 100 yards long and 50 yards wide.
As they set up their usual racket before entering I
thought I heard a lion’s grunt, but as nothing more
developed I concluded it had been merely some of
the boys. This patch of bush was a mass of nettles,
briers, and thorns, and made exceedingly disagreeable
going. The porters were making very slow progress,
so I went in to encourage them. However, by the
time we were halfway through I was so scratched and
torn that I quit and went out toward the bottom of
the ravine. The briers had somewhat cooled my
faith in the theory that the lion was in the ravine. I

66 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

sat down on an ant-hill where I had a fair view.
Kennedy fired and I looked quickly. The lion which
had come out in front of Kennedy had turned and
was running down across the ravine and up the other
side. I hada good shot at him and the bullet knocked
him over. However, he got up and went into a clump
of bush. This clump just filled a kind of pot hole
about fifty yards in diameter. Kennedy watched one
side and I the other so that we had every avenue of
escape covered. The beaters then began throwing
stones and sticks into the bush. The lion made no
move. He might be dead or he might be lying close.
We wanted to know, but no one wanted to know suf-
ficiently to crawl in and see. Finally Dudo, my
gun-bearer, suggested that we light a fire and make
some firebrands. We busied ourselves with this. In
the meanwhile, there was no response from the lion.
When the firebrands were ready Dudo asked leave to
throw the first one for he maintained that he knew
where the lion was. Dudo threw, and as his firebrand
disappeared in the brush there was a roar and a shak-
ing of the bushes that told exactly where the beast
was hidden. A shower of firebrands followed but
with no effect. Then the boys threw rocks. But
nothing resulted. By this time Kennedy had joined
the crowd. All the beaters and both of us were
grouped on one side of the pot hole. Dudo now took
a small-bore rifle and fired, not in an effort to kill
the lion but to move him. It succeeded, and he
moved, not away from us but toward us. The way
of retreat was open but he didn’t take it. Dudo

MY ACQUAINTANCE WITH LIONS 67

fired again, and again the bushes moved toward us.
Finally the old fellow was so close to the edge of the
brush that while we couldn’t see him he undoubtedly
could see us. He stood looking out on thirty black
men and two white men in front of a great fire—a
crowd of his enemies. The path was not blocked in
any other direction. He looked us over carefully
for fully five minutes and then of his own volition,
with a great roar, he charged out of the brush and
up from the pot hole. Halfway up the slope the
fatal bullet hit him. He was killed charging his
enemies and without thought of retreat—the first
black-maned lion ever shot in British East Africa.
He was old and had been through various vicissi-
tudes. At one time he had had a leg broken but it
had healed perfectly. The tip of his tail was gone
also. But for all that he was a great specimen.
These two instances are fair examples of the usual
method of hunting lions in British East Africa. Rid-
ing after them on horseback might be considered a
different method than the beating, but as a matter
of fact, the two merge into each other. When beat-
ing, the lion hunter usually rides until he actually
reaches the lion’s cover, and if he runs on to a
lion in the open he rides after it until the su-
perior speed of the horse over any fair distance forces
the lion to stop and lie down at bay. And, likewise,
if one is riding after lions and the lion gets into cover,
the game is up unless there are beaters to get him out.
Paul Rainey introduced an added element to the
horseback method of lion hunting when he imported

68 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

his lion hounds. I call them lion hounds for they
chased lions—that is the only thing the pack had in
common. It included curs, collies, airedales, bear
hounds from the South, and almost every other kind
of canine. When Rainey and the hounds appeared,
the Governor of East Africa remarked that the lions
were going to get some good dog meat. But within
a couple of years “hounding lions” was stopped be-
cause the lions fell too easy a prey to the hounds and
hunters. When Rainey took his hounds there no
one was certain how the lions would act, and it was a
sporting thing to try. But it soon developed—and
Rainey, who is a thorough sportsman, was one of the
first to see it—that the hounds kept the lion so busy
once he was brought to bay that the hunter could ap-
proach and take as many shots as necessary with
almost perfect immunity from a charge. It is not
quite accurate to say that Rainey introduced the
practice of hunting lions with dogs. Foa, the French
traveller, speaks of the practice ten years before
Rainey went to Africa. He even tried to organize a
pack. His pack failed. But the principle of having
dogs keep the lions so busy that they would not
charge, he described completely.

Besides these daylight methods of hunting it was
a common practice to hunt lions at night by baiting—
that is, to kill an animal and hide near it in the hope
that a lion would come to eat, and then shoot him.
There is not much danger in this, for the thorn domas,
or hiding places, are a good protection, and the lion
would not be likely to attack any one unless he was

MY ACQUAINTANCE WITH LIONS — 69

shot at or molested. There is, of course, the instance
of the black man killed in the Joma in Somaliland, but
that event is the exception.

As a method of killing lions, night baiting is not
very sportsmanlike, but as a method of photographing
it is not only legitimate but it has produced by far
the best lion pictures ever made in Africa—especially
those of Schilling and A. Radclyffe Dugmore. Rainey
and Buffalo Jones got some remarkable moving pic-
tures of hunting lions with dogs, but the total number
of all pictures of live lions ever taken is still in keeping
with the small amount of detailed and accurate knowl-
edge of lions’ habits which we have. To my mind
the finest lion-hunting picture ever taken was brought
back by Lady Grace McKenzie. Her operator got a
moving picture of a wounded lion charging. It
shows the lion’s rush from the bush at Lady McKenzie
and her companion—a white man. It shows the
man turn and run and the lion rush right by Lady
McKenzie after him. There the picture ends. On
his recent trip Martin Johnson got a motion picture
of five lions crossing the plains, one of which was shot
by Mr. Johnson.

But neither beating, baiting, nor hounding is the
really sportsmanlike method of hunting lions—it is
spearing, and spearing takes a black man.

One time in Uganda, after I had been under a con-
siderable strain while elephant hunting, I decided that
I needed a rest and a change. I set out for the Uasin
Gishu Plateau where I got together one hundred
Nandi spearmen. We had no difficulty in getting

70 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

volunteers, for they were to be paid and fed for play-
ing the game they loved. During the first half day
out from the government station, where we gathered
our force together, the alarm of lion was sounded.
We were approaching a patch of bush. The spear-
men entered the bush from all sides. I placed my
motion-picture camera at a point of vantage. The
idea was to drive the lion out in front of the camera
and have the spearmen at that point spear him.
Above the din of the spearmen in the bush I finally
heard the angry growl of aleopard. There was great
excitement in the bush for a few seconds. Then three
of the boys came out of the bush. The middle boy
of the three was being carried and his scalp was hang-
ing down over his face. Behind this trio came a group
carrying the dead leopard. Later, when his skin was
stretched, it showed sixty spear holes.

I promptly took the wounded boy under the shade
of a mimosa tree, shaved him, and sewed his scalp
back into place and cared for his other wounds. He
showed little interest in the proceedings beyond ask-
ing a question of the other black boys about what I
was doing. Seemingly the whole operation was over
before he recovered from the shock of his mauling.
The next morning when I sent him home he was much
troubled. He said that he had not committed any
offence and he did not see why he had to be sent home.
His wounds did not seem to trouble him or to dampen
the ardour of the others in the slightest.

We went on for a week. One day, just as we were
making camp near a waterfall, an alarm was sounded

MY ACQUAINTANCE WITH LIONS 71

near the forest. One of the boys had seen a lion.' His
whereabouts was discovered after much beating back
and forth. I got my camera ready as before at the
place the boys thought the fight would take place,
but the lion did not do his part. He broke in a differ-
ent direction and another bunch of spearmen got him
two hundred yards away. It was so exasperating to
have something prevent this most exciting of all movie
photography from succeeding that I almost failed to
appreciate the courage and skill of the spearmen.

A few days later, soon after our start in the morn-
ing, Mrs. Akeley and I were riding ahead of the pro-
cession when we met several lions coming out of the
grass and bush near a small stream. The spearmen
immediately surrounded the bush into which the
lions plunged. The lions tried to escape, but in what-
ever direction any lion tried to go a spearman bobbed
up out of the grass in front of him. ‘That is a simple
statement, but to jump up in front of a lion or three
lions with nothing but a spear and shield as protection
is a thing not to be taken lightly. As the lions sought
one escape after another, and found each closed, they
fought it out. There was about ten minutes of pan-
demonium. Then we took stock. Three dead lions
gathered together in a pile; pretty authentic reports
that two others escaped—and not a picture.

At the next spearing, however, I did get two pic-
tures. We were riding along early in the morning
through arough bushcountry. All at once I heard a
lion grunt. The gun boy held up his hand as a signal
to stop. The camera was rushed forward to the bank

a2 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

of a little ravine, but before it was assembled ready
for the operation a lioness came up within ten feet
of the camera, turned to the left, and then ran back
by the same route. The boys waved to me to come
down twenty-five yards. There, from a little knoll,
we got the first movie record of lion spearing. A young,
full-grown lion was at bay in tall grass at the bottom of
the ravine. The camera trained on the place caught
the first spear thrown. The first one was followed
by a shower of spears, and a few seconds later the boys
rushed in and got their spears. It was all over quicker
than it takes to tell it. In the film not only do the
falling spears show but also the movement of the
lion in the grass, but the cover and a dark day made
any part of the film impossible to use as a still picture.
Hardly had I finished turning the handle on this scene
when I was called off twenty-five yards to another
lion at bay. He was held for the camera and a similar
record of thisone wasmade. In the meantime, a lone
spearman making desperate effort to get into the
show stumbled on an old lioness. They fought it
out, man and beast together. When we discovered
him he was on his back protecting himself with his
shield, a single bite in his leg and the lioness dying
beside him. He had killed a lioness practically alone,
which entitled him to wear a lion’s skin headdress.
On this trip of twenty days we had three occasions
in which the spearmen rounded up five lions in a
bunch and each time they got three of the five. Al-
together, we got ten lions and five leopards. One
boy was mauled by a leopard, another was bitten

MY ACQUAINTANCE WITH LIONS = 73

on the leg by the lion. These were the only injuries
to the men. Not a shot was fired during the twenty
days. Our last encounter involved ‘five old lions,
three of which were speared, and three cubs captured
alive—but no pictures. It happened like this:

Three lions going up a slope, signal given, pande-
monium turned loose. Movements of men looked
as if the lions had gone over the hill beyond to a dry
stream bed. With the heavy camera I ran down the
foot of the hill when I was called back and had to
run back to the top of the hill where the lion was at
bay. He might have been held indefinitely there
in the open sunlight—a wonderful chance for a pic-
ture. But in spite of long teaching, of threats, prom-
ises, and urging, the boys’ excitement overcame them.
The spears began to fly before the camera was ready.
As I was adjusting the camera the lion was speared in
full view in the open sunlight. A camera man never
had such a chance before, but it was lost because the
camera was slow. After the planning, the care, the
work—the luck to have it go like this was too much,
and my instinct was to grab my gun and shoot the
man who threw the first spear. I think it was the
most heartbreaking failure I ever had. I intended
never to have another, and from that minute I began
working on a camera that takes no time to adjust. I
got it finally, but that one moment of poignant disap-
pointment cost me many months of toil.

Here is the way I see this lion spearing. A naked
savage gets iron ore, then he gets fire from two sticks,
and then charcoal. Then he makes a retort of clay

74 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

in which he smelts the iron ore. With a hunk of
granite for an anvil and another for a hammer he
rough forges the spear. With soft iron hammers
forged in a similar way he finishes the spear which is
finally sharpened on native stones. With this equip-
ment he starts out to kill the lion that has been prey-
ing on his flocks or herds. He takes a great pride
in the achievement, for he will make from the mane a
headdress which his exploit entitles him to wear. Of
course this does not happen just this way now, but
the Nandi’s spearmen speared lions with the arms
they made before the white men came. It is a fair
contest between man and beast. And the courage
and skill of these men are wonderful.

Paul Rainey had aranch on the west shore of Lake
Naivasha. One morning his boys reported to him
that a lion had invaded the kraa/ the night before.
He set out on horseback with a few of his dogs and
two Masai herd boys with their spears. The dogs
soon took up the spoor of the lion and brought him
to bay under an acacia tree on the grassy plain. The
sun had just risen above the hills on the other side
of the lake. The long shadows of the table-top
acacias lay across the plain, the lion underneath in
full sunlight. Rainey jumped off his horse, threw the
reins over a bush, and grabbed his rifle from its boot.
He then saw the two Masai boys run on toward the
lion. As they approached the lion, one threw his
spear and missed. They were between him and the
lion, and he could not shoot. The boys stood stock
still till the lion was in mid-air in his final spring

MY ACQUAINTANCE WITH LIONS 75

when the one with the spear stepped to one side and
thrust his spear into the lion’s neck killing him in-
stantly. He fell at their feet. As the boy with-
drew the spear and carefully wiped the blood off on
the corner of his breechcloth he remarked to Rainey:

“You see, Master, it is work for a child.”

That is how the Masai figured it. But I never
have felt so. The first wild lion I ever saw scared me
almost to death, and a good many of them have
scared me since. The first lions that I saw were in
Somaliland.

An oryx hunt had just come to a close. We were
about to mount our ponies when one of the black boys
pointed. There were three lions walking quietly
across a patch of hard, dry sand. They were perhaps
a hundred yards away. They looked as big as oxen
to me. I had never before seen a lion outside of a
cage. We turned our ponies over to the Somali gun
boys who galloped after them to round them up.
My next view of the lions was when the beaters had
gone in to drive them out of a bit of jungle. A roar
came from immediately in front of me and I saw a
lioness in mid-air as high as my head, springing, thank
heaven, diagonally away from me. But she saw
me as she sprang and landed facing me. As I
fired, a lion jumped over her back, which so discon-
certed me that my shot only wounded her. This
lion disconcerted her, too, for she followed him. Two
more shots at her and she disappeared in another
clump of cover with the lions. In our efforts to drive
them out of this cover we finally set it on fire. The

76 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA.

two lions rushed out and escaped us. The lioness,
more seriously wounded than I thought, never came.
I had failed to get a lion, but I felt satisfied none the
less, because the lions had likewise failed to get me.
That one moment in that day, when I saw the lioness
in the air, I'll never forget, for I realized that death
was but an instant away.

‘From that time until now I have seen a great many
lions, shot some, and handled nearly fifty specimens,
so that I have made a fairly extended study of the
measurements and anatomy of the king of beasts. I
have tried also to study his living characteristics and
habits, but that is much more difficult. After all,
perhaps the most impressive thing about a lion is his
foreleg. The more you know of elephants the more
you regard the elephant’s trunk. The more you
know of lions, the more you respect the lion’s foreleg
and the great padded and clawed weapon at the end
of it. It is perhaps the best token of the animal’s
strength. It is probably two or three times as power-
ful in proportion to weight as the arm of aman. He
can kill a man with one blow of his paw. His other
weapon, his jaw, is strong enough to break a zebra’s
neck at one bite. These are a rather rough measure
of an animal’s strength, but they give some idea
of it.

There is a record which says that a lion has dragged
an African buffalo fifty yards. A buffalo weighs
at least three times as much as a lion. I have never
had evidence of this much “pulling power” but I have
known of many instances of lions dragging zebras

MY ACQUAINTANCE WITH LIONS 77

that far, and the zebras weigh nearly twice as much
as the lions do.

Another test of a lion’s strength is his ability to
stand punishment. I have seen a lion charge with
seven lead bullets from an old .577 Express rifle
through his shoulder, and only finally succumb to the
eighth bullet in his head.

L. J. Tarlton, one of the best shots that has ever
hunted game in Africa, told me once, when we were
both recuperating from sickness, that he was going
to quit shooting lions. What had brought him to this
conclusion was an experience which he had just had
with a charging lioness. He had hit her three times
in the chest. She finally died touching his feet.
When he examined her, all three bullets were within
a three-inch radius and every one should have been
fatal. Yet she had almost reached him despite his
fast and accurate shooting.

These instances are exceptions, but often in African
hunting the exceptions are about as common as the
rule and one exception may be enough to end the
story.

My nearest approach to being mauled by a lion
came from this same capacity of a lion to carry lead,
and from my own carelessness. I had seen a lion
standing some little distance away from me clearly
in view, and had shot him. The bullet knocked him
down and, as I thought, hurt him badly. After a
while he got up and came my way. When about
forty yards away he gave me another clear shot.
So without reloading the first barrel of my double-

78 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

barrelled rifle I fired the second. I hit him again,
but not with the desired result. He charged.
There I was with an empty gun to meet the
charge of a wounded lion, and with no one else,
not even a gun boy, near. All the rules of lion hunt-
ing say that you must meet a charge without moving.
But all the promptings of instinct were to move, and
{i moved. I slipped to one side behind a clump of
high grass as fast as I could, endeavouring meanwhile
to reload. A few seconds after I had left the spot
where I should have stood the lion’s spring landed
him directly on it. He had had to come through a
little depression, and this and the long grass had ob-
scured his sight so he had not seen me move. Not
landing on me as he expected so disconcerted him
that, even though he saw me, he dived into the thick
bushes right ahead of him instead of coming at me.
There he stopped, threatening for a time to repeat
his charge. Finally, changing his mind, he headed
deeper into the brush and, as it was too thick to
follow him, I let him go. In the mix-up my syce had
become so completely frightened that he had jumped
into the river, so he was quite unable to tell whether
the lion had got my pony or the pony had run away.
After a certain amount of fruitless searching I walked
the ten miles back to camp.

The usual movement of a lion is a walk or a kind
of fox trot. At speed he will still continue to trot
except at maximum effort, when he gallops.

Lions do not usually have any habitation; but oc-
casionally they live in caves. When I say live, I do

MY ACQUAINTANCE WITH LIONS 79

not mean that they inhabit them continuously. They
roam about, following the movements of the game.
If they happen to be working in a country where there
is a cave, they will use it while in the neighbourhood.
But a given band of lions usually stays in one place
only a short time. The phrase “band of lions” is
perhaps not very accurate. Lions go in all kinds of
combinations of numbers. There is a cave on the
MacMillan ranch near Nairobi from which sixteen
lions have been seen to come. Personally I have
never seen more than eight lions together, but I have
seen almost all combinations of numbers, ages, and
sexes below that number. Lions are more often in
twos, threes, or fours than in other combinations.

But although I know that lions are accustomed
to roam after game, one of the most interesting lion .
encounters I ever had came from acting on exactly
the opposite theory.

There is a place where a little stream flows into the
Theba River, where, in 1906, I was looking for buffalo
and heard the snarling of two lions. We stopped the
buffalo hunt momentarily to locate the lions. We
started at the river bank to drive up the small stream
toward the higher land and the open. The beaters
began their work with their usual noises, which I
checked as soon as possible for fear that the lions
would go out too far ahead of us to get a shot. I
instructed the beaters to go up the little stream with
the cover along its banks throwing stones in ahead of
them. But my precautions were too late. They had
hardly started to work when I noticed on the hills

80 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

a lion and a lioness—one going to the left and the
other to the right. They were in the open. The
lion disappeared over the crest of the first hill. I
had a theory that he would lie down on the top of
that crest and watch us. I accordingly left part of
the men in sight while I, with a few others, approached
the hill under cover. I finally succeeded in getting
to a point behind a pile of rocks. Motioning the men
to stay quiet and keep back, I carefully poked my
head up and saw the old fellow as he lay looking
toward me about seventy-five yards away. I drew
back, and then to my disgust one of my companions
rose up in full view of the lion, who made off unscathed
by the hurried shots I fired at him. This lion stayed
constantly in my mind.

Three years later I was camped on the Tana River
with Mrs. Akeley, John McCutcheon, and Fred
Stephenson. When we decided to march from the
Tana to the Theba I told the crowd that I was going,
by the spot where I had lost the big lion three years
before. I hada “hunch” that he would still be there
—or perhaps be revisiting the spot as I was. Any-
way, the feeling was strong enough to make me go.
Stephenson went off on an independent hunt. The
others with the safari came with me. We loitered
along photographing rhinoceroses until we came in
sight of my spot—the place where the little stream
emptied into the Theba. I noticed that Stephenson
was coming toward us and about to cross the little
stream. I remarked, “Fred is going to drive our
lions out and never know it.” I then felt a little

MY ACQUAINTANCE WITH LIONS | 81

foolish but nevertheless watched him go through
my pet lion bed. Only a few minutes later Mc-
Cutcheon pointed toward the upper end of the stream
and said:

“What is that?”

“My pair of lions,” I answered.

They were going up the hill exactly as they had
three years before except this time they did not sepa-
rate. We watched them to the top of the hill. We
started out to head them off. As we reached the
top of the hill to one side of where they had gone,
we heard a lion grunt behind us. There, about a
hundred and twenty-five yards away, were the lion
and lioness apparently in a very nasty humour. We
all crouched down, and as we did so the lions rose
up to see us. I said to Mrs. Akeley:

“Shoot whenever you are ready.”

I was pretty nervous, for a couple of mad lions in
the grass make a very bad outlook.

She fired and missed clean. The lioness began
lashing her flanks. Mrs. Akeley fired again. The
lion fell dead with a bullet through his brain. |

McCutcheon and I urged each other to shoot the
lioness, who, in the meantime, bolted and got away.
I have handled nearly fifty lions, but this one that
Mrs. Akeley killed was the largest of all and he had
a good yellow mane. I can’t prove that it was the
same pair I had seen three years before. What we
know of lions is against it, but I still like to think it
was. This was Mrs. Akeley’s first lion—a splendid
trophy, cleanly killed.

CHAPTER IV

HUNTING THE AFRICAN BUFFALO

: HE buffalo is different from any other kind
of animalin Africa. A lion prefers not to fight
aman. Healmost never attacks unprovoked,
and even when he does attack he is not vindictive.
The elephant, like the lion, prefers to be left alone.
But he is quicker to attack than the lion and he isn’t
satisfied merely to knock out his man enemy. Com-
plete destruction is his aim. The buffalo is even
quicker than the elephant to take offence at man and
he is as keen-sighted, clever, and vindictive as the
elephant. As a matter of fact, the domesticated bull
is more likely to attack man without provocation
than any wild animal I know, and those who wan-
dered on foot around the bulls on our Western prairies
in the old cattle days probably experienced the same
kind of charges one gets from African buffaloes.
Nevertheless, despite all these qualities, which are
almost universally attributed to the African buffalo,
I am confident that the buffalo, like the elephant and
other wild animals, has no instinctive enmity to man.
That enmity, I am sure, is acquired by experience.
I had an experience on the Aberdare Plateau with a
band of elephants that had seen little or nothing of
man, and until they learned about men from me they
82

HUNTING THE AFRICAN BUFFALO 83

paid no more attention to me than if I had been an
antelope. But after I had shot one or two as speci-
mens, they acquired the traditional elephant atti-
tude. I had a curiously similar experience with buf-
faloes.

It happened in this way. Mrs. Akeley, Cun-
inghame, the famous hunter, and I had been trying
for some time, but with little luck, to get buffalo
specimens for a group for the Field Museum at
Chicago.

We had reason to believe that there was a herd of
buffaloes living in the triangle made by the junction
of the Theba and Tana rivers. As the buffaloes
would have to water from one stream or the other,
we felt pretty sure of locating them by following down
the Theba to the junction and then up the Tana.

From the swamp down the Theba to its junction
with the Tana occupied three days in which we saw
no fresh signs of buffalo. On the second march up
the Tana, as I was travelling ahead of the safari at
about midday, looking out through an opening in
a strip of thorn bush that bordered the river, I saw
in the distance a great black mass on the open plain
which, on further investigation with the field glasses,
I was reasonably certain was a herd of buffaloes.
Sending a note back to Cuninghame, who was in
charge of the safari, suggesting that he make camp
at a hill on the banks of the Tana about two miles
ahead of my position and await me there, I started
off over the plain with my two gun boys. Coming up
out of a dry stream-bed that I had used to conceal

84 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

my approach, I came on to a large herd of eland, and
my first fear was that I had mistaken eland for buf-
faloes.

Going farther on, however, we saw a herd of about
five hundred buffaloes lying up in a few scattered
thorn trees four or five hundred yards away. At
first it seemed an almost impossible situation. There
was practically no cover and no means of escape in
case the herd detected us and saw fit to charge, and
at that time my respect for the buffaloes led me to
be extremely cautious. We worked around the herd
trying to find some place where a safe approach might
be made. Finally, seeing a little band of a dozen
buffaloes off at one side on the bank of a ravine which
offered splendid protection, we stalked them but,
unfortunately, not one in the band was desirable as a
specimen. Since this was so, I tried them out, giving
them my wind, then going up where they could see me
better. JI found that they were quite indifferent
either to the scent or the sight of man. They finally
moved off quietly without alarm. I then knew that
this herd, like the Aberdare elephants, had had little
or no experience with men, and that there was per-
haps less to fear from them than from the traditional
buffalo of the sportsman. So going back to the main
herd, I crept up boldly to within a hundred yards of
them. ‘They saw me, faced about, closely inspecting
me, but with no sign of alarm. It was approaching
dusk, and in this great black mass it was difficult to
pick out a good pair of horns except with the aid of
glasses. I carefully located a fine bull and then shot,

HUNTING THE AFRICAN BUFFALO 85

as I supposed, at the one I had located. As I fired,
the animals bolted, first away, then back toward me.
They wheeled, ran halfway between the dead animal
and me, and passing on about a hundred yards to the
right wheeled about again and stood watching me,
the bulls in the front, lined up like soldiers, the calves
and cows in the background. On coming up to the
dead animal, I found, much to my regret, that I had
shot a cow and not the bull I had picked out through
the glasses.

I returned to camp feeling that now at last, from
this herd living apparently in the open, we should
have relatively little difficulty in completing our
series of specimens. On the following morning, much
to our disappointment, our first glimpse of the herd
was just as it disappeared in the thorn bush along
the bank of the river. We put in nearly a week of
hard work to complete the series,

During those seven days of continual hunting, that
herd which had been indifferent and unsuspecting at
the beginning, like the elephants, became cautious,
vigilant, and aggressive. For instance, on one oc-
casion near the close of the week, after having spent
the day trying to locate the herd, I suddenly came
face to face with them just at the edge of the bush
at night on my way back to camp. ‘They were tear-
ing along at a good pace, apparently having been
alarmed. I stepped to one side and crouched in
the low grass while they passed me in a cloud of dust
at twenty-five or thirty yards. Even had I been
able to pick out desirable specimens at this time I

86 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

should have been afraid to shoot for fear of getting
into difficulties when they had located my position.
I turned and followed them rapidly as they sped away
over the hard ground until the noise of their stampede
suddenly stopped. I then decided that it was best
to get to some point of vantage and await further
developments. I climbed an acacia tree that enabled
me to look over the top of the bush. Fifty yards
ahead I could see about fifty buffaloes lined up in a
little open patch looking back on their trail. As I
was perched in the tree endeavouring to pick out a
desirable animal, I suddenly discovered a lone old
bull buffalo coming from the bush almost directly
underneath me, snifing and snuffing this way and
that. Very slowly, very cautiously he passed around
the tree, then back to the waiting herd, when they
all resumed their stampede and made good their es-
cape for the day.

One morning I came in sight of the herd just as
it was entering the thorn bush and followed hurriedly
on the trail, until just at the edge of the jungle I
happened to catch sight of the two black hoofs of an
old cow behind the low-hanging foliage. I stopped,
expecting a charge. After a few moments I backed
slowly away until I reached a tree where I halted to
await developments. Stooping down I could see the
buffalo’s nose and black, beady eyes as she stood mo-
tionless. The rest of the herd had gone on out of
hearing and I think she was quite alone in her pro-
posed attack. After a few moments, apparently
realizing that her plan had failed, she turned about

HUNTING THE AFRICAN BUFFALO 87

and followed the herd, moving very quietly at first,
then breaking into a gallop.

On the following day toward evening we came up
again with the herd in the same region. As we first
saw them they were too far away for us to choose
and shoot with certainty. We managed to crawl to
a fair-sized tree midway between us and the herd,
and from the deep branches picked out the young
herd bull of the group. When we had shot and he
had disappeared into the bush, a calf accompanied
by its mother gave us a fleeting glimpse of itself, with
the result that we added the calf to our series.

The herd disappeared into the bush and after a few
minutes we descended from our perch and inspected
the calf, then started off in the direction the wounded
bull had taken, and found him lying dead just a few
yards away.

This completed the series, much to our great joy,
for by this time we were thoroughly tired of buffalo-
hunting. It had been along, hard hunt, and our safari
as well as ourselves were considerably the worse for
wear. To shoot a half-dozen buffaloes is a very sim-
ple matter and ought to be accomplished almost any
day in British East Africa or Uganda, but to select
a series of a half dozen that will have the greatest
possible scientific value by illustrating the develop-
ment from babyhood to old age is quite a different
matter.

These buffaloes of the Tana country that we found
on the plains and in the bush apparently rarely or
never go into the swamps, a fact not only confirmed

88 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA’

by observation but also indicated by the condition

of the hoofs. These are horny, round, and smooth
as a result of travelling on the hard and more or less
stony ground of the region. But the ¢inga-tinga
buffaloes have lived in the swamp for years and spend
practically no time on hard ground; hence the hoofs
are long, sharp, and unworn as a result of walking
always in the soft mud and water. All this despite
the fact that these two herds may actually come in
contact at the edge of the swamp. Other herds live
in forest country but come out into the grasslands
to feed at night, always going back into the forest
at daybreak.

In Uganda, where buffaloes are recognized as a
menace to life and are of no particular value except
for food, they are officially treated as vermin and one
may shoot as many as he will. Here the herds had
increased to an enormous extent and, because of the
dense jungles and general inaccessibility of the coun-
try, it was rather difficult to hunt them. While
elephant-hunting in Uganda we found the buffaloes
a decided nuisance, frequently coming on to them
unexpectedly while hot on an elephant trail, some-
times having difficulty in getting rid of them, not
wishing to shoot or stampede them because of the
danger of frightening away the elephants, to say
nothing of the constant menace of running into a
truculent old bull at very close quarters in dense
jungle. The buffaloes actually mingle with the ele-
phants, each quite indifferent to the other excepting
that on one occasion we found elephant calves charg-

HUNTING THE AFRICAN BUFFALO 89

ing into a herd of buffaloes, evidently only in play.
They chased about squealing and stampeding the
buffaloes, who kept at a safe distance but did not
actually take alarm. Occasionally an old cow whose
calf was being hard-pressed by the young elephants
would turn, apparently with the intention of having
it out, but would always bolt before the elephant
could actually reach her. Despite the fact that the
record head, fifty-four inches in spread, was shot by
Mr. Knowles in Uganda, from our general observa-
tion the heads in Uganda run smaller than those of
British East Africa while the animals are perhaps
heavier.

Although in our buffalo-hunting we have never
had any actually serious encounters, I fully appreciate
that the buffalo deserves his reputation as one of
the most dangerous of big-game animals. His eye-
sight is good, he has keen scent, and is vigilant and
vindictive. While the lion is usually satisfied with
giving his victim a knock-out blow or bite, the buffalo,
when once on the trail of man, will not only persist
in his efforts to find him but, when he has once come
up with him, will not leave while there is a vestige
of life remaining in the victim. In some cases he
will not leave while there is a fragment of the man
remaining large enough to form a target for a buffalo’s
stamping hoofs.

A hunter I met once told me of an experience he
had with a buffalo which shows in rather a terrible
way these characteristics of the animal. He anda
companion wounded a buffalo and followed it into

go IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

the long grass. It was lurking where they did not
expect it and with a sudden charge it was upon them
before they had a chance to shoot. The buffalo
knocked down the man who told me the story and
then rushed after his companion. The first victim
managed to climb a tree although without his gun.
By that time the other man was dead. But the buf-
falo was not satisfied. For two hours he stamped
and tossed the remains while the wounded man in
the tree sat helplessly watching. When the buffalo
left, my informant told me, the only evidence of his
friend was the trampled place on the ground where
the tragedy had taken place. There is nothing in
Africa more vindictive than this.

There was another case of an old elephant hunter
in Uganda who shot a buffalo for meat. The bullet
did not kill the animal and it retreated into the thick
bush where there were even some good-sized trees.
The old hunter followed along a path. Suddenly the
buffalo caught him and tossed him. As he went into
the air he grasped some branches overhanging the
trail.~ There he hung unable to get up and afraid to
drop down while the wild bull beneath him charged
back and forth with his long horns ripping at the
hunter’s legs. Happily the gun boy came up in time
to save his master by killing the beast. This hunter
was an extraordinary character. He was very suc-
cessful and yet he was almost stone deaf. How he
dared hunt elephants or any other big game without
the aid of his hearing I have never been able to con-
ceive, yet he did it and did it well.

HUNTING THE AFRICAN BUFFALO gi

One morning Cuninghame, having gone out with
some boys to shoot meat for camp, came upon three
old buffaloes. He sent a runner back to camp with
the news, and Mrs. Akeley and I started out to join
him. Halfway from camp we were obliged to make
a wide detour to avoid an old rhino and calf, but soon
caught up with Cuninghame. He reported, however,
that the buffaloes had passed on into some densé
bush. We started to follow but suddenly came upon
two rhinos. We quickly turned to leeward in order
not to disturb them by giving them our wind, for we
were not anxious to bring on a general stampede of
the game in the neighbourhood. This turn brought
us to the windward of the old cow and calf that we
had first avoided, with the result that she came charg-
ing up, followed by the calf close at her heels, snorting
like a locomotive. Cuninghame helped Mrs. Akeley
up a convenient tree. He stood at the base of the
tree and J at the foot of another where we waited with
our guns ready, watching the old cow go tearing past
within twenty feet of us.

We continued on the buffalo trail, but the stampede
of the rhino had resulted in alarming the buffaloes
so that instead of finding them near by, we were
forced to follow them for an hour or more before
again coming in sight of them; and again twice more
they were stampeded by rhinos that happened to
get in our path. At last the buffaloes evidently be-
came tired of being chased from place to place, and
came to rest on a sloping hillside which we could ap-
proach only by crawling on our hands and knees in,

92 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

the grass for a considerable distance. In this manceu-
vring it happened that Mrs. Akeley was able to stalk
the best bull, and a few minutes later he was finished
off and we were busy photographing, measuring, and
preparing the skin.

About twenty-five miles to the northwest from the

Tana, across the plain on the Theba River, is a marsh
where a herd of nearly a hundred buffaloes was known
to live, but the Provincial Commissioner had defi-
nitely said that we were not to shoot these. We
decided finally to ask for the privilege, which was
granted, but with a warning in the form of an ex-
planation: that he had told us not to shoot there
because of the danger involved.
_ We found a reed marsh about one by two miles in
extent with, at that time, a foot or two of water in
the buffalo trails that crisscrossed it in all directions.
On arriving, and while making camp at one end of
the marsh just at dusk, we saw the herd come out on
dry land a half mile away—but they returned to
cover before we could approach them. In fact, dur-
ing nearly two weeks that we spent there we saw
them come outside the swamp only twice, each time
to return immediately.

We made several attempts to approach them in
the marsh, but found that while it was quite possible
to get up to them it was out of the question to choose
our specimens. Also it would have been impossible
to beat a retreat in case of a charge or stampede; so
we adopted a campaign of watchful waiting. From
the camp at daybreak we would scan the marsh for

HUNTING THE AFRICAN BUFFALO $93

the snowy cow herons that were always with the
buffaloes during the daytime. These would fly about
above the reeds from one part of the herd to another,
and at times, where the reeds were low, they could
be seen riding along perched on the backs of the ani.
mals. Having thus located the herd and determined
the general direction of its movements, we would go
to a point at the edge of the marsh where it seemed
likely that the animals would come out, or at least
come near enough to be visible in the shorter reeds.
It was in this way that we secured the specimen that
makes the young bull of the group—and two weeks
spent there resulted in securing no other specimen.
On this one occasion the buffaloes, accompanied by
the white herons, had come to within about a hundred
yards of our position on the shores of the swamp.
They were in reeds that practically concealed them,
but the young buffalo in question, in the act of throw-
ing up his head to dislodge a bird that had irritated
him, disclosed a pair of horns that indicated a young
bull of the type I wanted. A heron standing on his
withers gave me his position, and aiming about two
feet below the bird, I succeeded in killing the bull
with a heart shot.

CHAPTER TY

LEOPARDS AND RHINOS

HERE is a general belief firmly fixed in the
popular mind by constant repetition that the
ostrich is a very stupid bird. A man might

well expect easy hunting of a bird that tried to hide
by the traditional method of sticking its head in the
sand. But I found that the ostrich, like other
African animals, did not always realize its obliga-
tion to tradition or abide by the rules set down
for its behaviour. I went a long way into the
waterless desert of Somaliland after ostriches. We
were just across the Haud and were camped in a
“tug”? or dry stream bed where by digging we could
get water for our sixty men and the camels. During
two days of hunting in the dry bush of this desert [
had seen many ostriches, but none of them had put
its head into the ground and left its big black-and-
white plumed body for me to shoot at. On the con-
trary, in this my first experience with them I found
them exceedingly wary. They kept their bodies
hidden behind the bush. Only their heads were ex-
posed, each head only about large enough to carry a
pair of very keen eyes and much too small to serve
as a target at the distance that they maintained. As
a result of being continually outwitted by them for

04

LEOPARDS AND RHINOS 95

two days I began to think ill of the man who origi-
nally started the story about their stupidity.

With the difficulties of the chase firmly in mind I
set out early on the third day to see if I could get a
specimen. Concluding that the smaller the party
the better the opportunity, I took only a mule and
my pony boy. When only a half mile from camp I
met an old hyena who was loafing along after a night
out. He looked like a good specimen, but after I
shot him, one look at his dead carcass was enough
to satisfy me that he was not as desirable as I had
thought, for his skin was badly diseased. I had very
good reason to think of this very hard later in the
day. A little farther along I shot a good wart hog
for our scientific collection. Leaving the specimen
where it lay, I marked the spot and continued in
search of the plume-bearers.

Soon after this I climbed to the top of a termite
hill about eight feet high to look the country over
with field glasses. As I held the glasses to my eyes
while adjusting the focus, I suddenly realized that
the letter S that I was focussing on was the head and
neck of an ostrich and that there was a second letter
S beside it. The birds remained perfectly motionless
watching and I did likewise, locating their position
meanwhile by the termite hills which were nearly in
line between us. Suddenly the heads ducked and
disappeared behind the bush. I dropped from my
perch and ran rapidly to where they had been, but
found only their trail in the sand.

When I had given up tracking them and was about

96 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

to start farther afield I came into an opening in the
bush that was about thirty yards wide and two hun-
dred yards long. Near the centre of the opening was
a dense green bush a dozen feet in diameter. A
beautiful cock ostrich broke into the clearing at full
speed just below the bush and as I raised my rifle he
disappeared behind the bush. I held ready to catch
him as he passed out from behind it on the other side,
where there was fifteen or twenty yards of clear
ground before he would reach cover again. I stood
there ready with my gun up until I felt foolish. Then
I ran quickly to the bush expecting to find him just
on the other side. He was nowhere in sight, but his
trail told the story. As he had come into the open he
had seen me and when behind the bush he had stopped
short, as indicated by a great hole and swirl of sand
where he had caught himself by one foot, had turned
at right angles and run straight away the length of
the clearing, keeping the bush between himself and
his enemy. Ihave not known many animals to do a
more clever thing than this. I got one shot at him
later—putting my sights at three hundred yards—
but the bullet struck in the sand between his legs.
We returned to camp later in the afternoon and
after a little rest and refreshment I started out again
with only the pony boy and carrying the necessary
tools to get the head of the wart hog that I had shot
in the morning. We had no difficulty in finding the
place where I had shot him, but there was nothing to
be seen of the pig. The place was strewn with vulture
features, but surely vultures could not make away

LEOPARDS AND RHINOS 97

with the head. A crash in the bushes at one side
led me in a hurry in that direction and a little later I
saw my pig’s head in the mouth of a hyena travelling
up the slope of a ridge out of range. That meant
that my wart hog specimen was lost, and, having
got no ostriches, I felt it was a pretty poor day.
The sun was setting, and with little to console us
the pony boy and I started for camp. As we came
near to the place where I had shot the diseased hyena
in the morning, it occurred to me that perhaps there
might be another hyena about the carcass, and feeling
a bit “sore” at the tribe for stealing my wart hog, I
thought I might pay off the score by getting a good
specimen of a hyena for the collections. The pony
boy led me to the spot, but the dead hyena was no-
where in sight. There was the blood where he had
fallen, and in the dusk we could make out a trail in
the sand where he had been dragged away.
Advancing a few steps, a slight sound attracted my
attention, and glancing to one side I got a glimpse of
a shadowy form going behind a bush. I then did a
very foolish thing. Without a sight of what I was
shooting at, I shot hastily into the bush. The snarl
of a leopard told me what kind of a customer I was
taking chances with. A leopard is a cat and has all
the qualities that gave rise to the “‘nine lives” legend.
To kill him you have got to kill him clear to the tip of
his tail. Added to that, a leopard, unlike a lion, is
vindictive. A wounded leopard will fight to a finish
practically every time, no matter how many chances
it has to escape. Once aroused, its determination is

98 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

fixed on fight, and if a leopard ever gets hold, it claws
and bites until its victim is in shreds. All this was
in my mind, and I began looking about for the best
way out of it, for I had no desire to try conclusions
with a possibly wounded leopard when it was so late
in the day that I could not see the sights of my rifle.

e Abour 1uds. ,
SCALE

The dotted line indicates Mr. Akeley’s movement during his encounter
with the leopard. The dashes show the route taken by the leopard. At
position (1), Mr. Akeley fired into the bush. Of the three shots fired at
position (2), two went above the leopard and the third inflicted only a skin
wound, The hand-to-hand combat took place at position (3).

My intention was to leave it until morning and if it
had been wounded, there might then be a chance of
findingit. I turned to the left to cross to the opposite
bank of a deep, narrow ¢ug and when there I found
that I was on an island where the ¢ug forked, and by
going along a short distance to the point of the island
I would be in position to see behind the bush where
the leopard had stopped. But what I had started

LEOPARDS AND RHINOS 99

the leopard was intent on finishing. While peering
about I detected the beast crossing the tug about
twenty yards above me. [I again began shooting,
although I could not see to aim. However, I could
see where the bullets struck as the sand spurted up
beyond the leopard. The first two shots went above
her, but the third scored. The leopard stopped and
I thought she was killed. The pony boy broke into
a song of triumph which was promptly cut short by
another song such as only a thoroughly angry leopard
is capable of making as it charges. For just a flash
I was paralyzed with fear, then came power for action.
I worked the bolt of my rifle and became conscious
that the magazine was empty. At the same instant
I realized that a solid point cartridge rested in the
palm of my left hand, one that I had intended, as I
came up to the dead hyena, to replace with a soft
nose. If I could but escape the leopard until I could
get the cartridge into the chamber!

As she came up the bank on one side of the point
of the island, I dropped down the other side and ran
about to the point from which she had charged, by
which time the cartridge was in place, and I wheeled
—to face the leopard in mid-air. The rifle was
knocked flying and in its place was eighty pounds of
frantic cat. Her intention was to sink her teeth into
my throat and with this grip and her forepaws hang to
me while with her hind claws she dug out my stomach,
for this pleasant practice is the way of leopards.
However, happily for me, she missed her aim. In-
stead of getting my throat she was to one side. She

100 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

struck me high in the chest and caught my upper
right arm with her mouth. This not only saved my
throat but left her hind legs hanging clear where they
could not reach my stomach. With my left hand I
caught her throat and tried to wrench my right arm
free, but I couldn’t do it except little by little. When
I got grip enough on her throat to loosen her hold just
a little she would catch my arm again an inch or two
lower down. In this way I drew the full length of the
arm through her mouth inch by inch. I was conscious
of no pain, only of the sound of the crushing of tense
muscles and the choking, snarling grunts of the beast.
As I pushed her farther and farther down my arm I
bent over, and finally when it was almost freed I fell
to the ground, the leopard underneath me, my right
hand in her mouth, my left hand clutching her throat,
my knees on her lungs, my elbows in her armpits
spreading her front legs apart so that the frantic
clawing did nothing more than tear my shirt. Her
body was twisted in an effort to get hold of the ground
to turn herself, but the loose sand offered no hold.
For a moment there was no change in our positions,
and then for the first time I began to think and hope I
had a chance to win this curious fight. Up to that
time it had been simply a good fight in which I ex-
pected to lose, but now if I could keep my advantage
perhaps the pony boy would come with a knife. I
called, but to no effect. I still held her and continued
to shove the hand down her throat so hard she could
not close her mouth and with the other I gripped her
throat in a strangle hold. Then I surged down on

LEOPARDS AND RHINOS fey

her with my knees. To my surprise I felt a rib go.
I did it again. I felt her relax, a sort of letting go,
although she was still struggling. At the same time
I felt myself weakening similarly, and then it became
a question as to which would give up first. Little
by little her struggling ceased. My strength had out-
lasted hers.
After what seemed an interminable passage of |
time I let go and tried to stand, calling to the pony
boy that it was finished. He now screwed up his
courage sufficiently to approach. Then the leopard
began to gasp, and I saw that she might recover; so
I asked the boy for his knife. He had thrown it
away fin his fear, but quickly found it, and [ at last
made certain that the beast was dead. As I looked
at her later I came to the conclusion that what had
saved me was the first shot I had fired when she went
into the bush. It had hit her right hind foot. I
think it was this broken foot which threw out the aim
of her spring and made her get my arm instead of my
throat. With the excitement of the battle still on
me I did not realize how badly used up I was. I
tried to shoulder the leopard to carry it to camp, but
was very soon satisfied to confine my efforts to getting
myself to camp. |
When I came inside the zareba, my companions were
at dinner before one of the tents. They had heard
the shots and had speculated on the probabilities.
They had decided that I was in a mix-up with a lion
or with natives, but that I would have the enemy or
the enemy would have me before they could get to

102 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

me; so they had continued their dinner. The fatalis-
tic spirit of the country had prevailed. When I
came within their range of vision, however, my ap-
pearance was quite sufficient to arrest attention, for
my clothes were all ripped, my arm was chewed into
an unpleasant sight, and there was blood and dirt all
over me. Moreover, my demands for all the anti-
septics in camp gave them something to do, for noth-
ing was keener in my mind than that the leopard had
been feeding on the diseased hyena that I had shot
in the morning. To the practical certainty of blood
poisoning from any leopard bite not quickly treated
was added the certainty that this leopard’s mouth
was particularly foul with disease. While my com-
panions were getting the surgical appliances ready,
my boys were stripping me and dousing me with cold
water. That done, the antiseptic was pumped into
every one of the innumerable tooth wounds until my
arm was so full of the liquid that an injection in one
drove it out of another. During the process I nearly
regretted that the leopard had not won. But it was
applied so quickly and so thoroughly that it was a
complete case.

Later in the evening they brought the leopard in
and laid it beside my cot. Her right hind foot
showed where the first shot had hit her. The only
other bullet that struck her was the last before she
charged and that had creased her just under the skin
on the back of the neck, from the shock of which she
had instantly recovered. :

This encounter took place fairly soon after our

THE LEOPARD HE KILLED BARE.
HANDED

MR. AKELEY AND

NAIVE

AY ERORARD Se RARE Debye acts:

LEOPARDS AND RHINOS 103

arrival on my first trip to Africa. I have seen a lot
of leopards since and occasionally killed one, but
I have taken pains never to attempt it at such close
quarters again. In spite of their fighting qualities
I have never got to like or respect leopards very much.
This is not because of my misadventure; I was hurt
much worse by an elephant, but I have great respect
and admiration for elephants. I think it is because
the leopard has always seemed to me a sneaking
kind of animal, and also perhaps because he will
eat carrion even down to a dead and diseased hyena.
A day or two before my experience with the leopard
someone else had shot a hyena near our camp and
had left him over night. The next morning the dead
hyena was lodged fifteen feet from the ground in the
crotch of a tree at some distance from where he was
killed. A leopard, very possibly my enemy, had
dragged him along the ground and up the tree and
placed him there for future use. While such activi-
ties cannot increase one’s respect for the taste of
leopards, they do give convincing evidence of the
Seopard’s strength, for the hyena weighed at least as
much as the leopard.

The leopard, like the elephant, is at home in every
kind of country in East Africa—on the plains, among
the rocky hills, among the bamboo, and in the forest
all the way up to timber line on the equatorial moun-
tains. Unlike the lion, the leopard is a solitary beast.
Except for a mother with young, I have never seen as
many as two leopards together. It is my belief that
like the lion they do their hunting at night almost

104 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

exclusively, and I am quite sure that this is their
general habit despite the fact that the only unmis-
takable evidence of day hunting I ever saw myself in
Africa was done by a leopard. I was out one day in
some tall grass and came upon the body of a small
antelope. As I came up I heard an animal retreat
and I thought I recognized a leopard’s snarl. The
antelope was still warm. It had evidently just been
killed and the tracks around it were those of a leop-
ard.

One of the leopard’s chief sources of food supply
consists of monkeys and baboons. I remember a
certain camp we had near the bottom of a cliff. Out
of this cliff grew a number of fig trees in which the
baboons were accustomed to sleep fairly well out of
reach of the leopards. They were, however, not com-
pletely immune, and we could hear the leopards at
the top of the cliff almost every night, and once in a
while the remnants of a baboon testified to the success
of the leopard’s night prowling. Besides monkeys
and baboons, leopards seem inordinately fond of dogs.
A pack of dogs like Paul Rainey’s can make short
work of a leopard, but on the other hand a leopard
can make short work of a single dog and seemingly
takes great pleasure in doing so. One night in a
shack in Nyiri, a settler sat talking to his neighbour,
while his dog slept under the table. Suddenly, and
quite unannounced, a leopard slipped in through the
open door. Confusion reigned supreme for a moment
and then the men found themselves on the table.
The leopard was under the table killing the dog and

LEOPARDS AND RHINOS 105

somehow in the excitement the door had been closed.
One after the other the men fled out of the window,
leaving the dog to his fate. A traveller had a similar
but more painful experience with a leopard at the
Dak Bungalow at Voi. Voi is a station on the
Uganda Railroad where there was, and I suppose still
is, a railroad hotel of a rather primitive kind known
as the Dak Bungalow. One night a man was sleeping
in one of the Bungalow rooms and, hearing a com-
motion outside, he started out to see what it was. As
he passed through the open doorway on to the porch
_ he was attacked by the leopard that had evidently
come stalking his dogs.

Leopards are not particularly afraid of man. J]
never knew one to attack a man unprovoked except
when caught at such close quarters as the case at
Voi, but they prowl around man’s habitation without
compunction. I had a camp in Somaliland once
where the tents were surrounded by two thorn thick-
ets—the inner and outer zarebaz. A leopard came in
one night, killed a sheep, dragged it under the very
fly of my tent on the way out, jumped the zareda,
and gotaway. Fifteen years ago, when Nairobi wasa
very small place, the daughter of one of the govern-
ment officers went into her room one evening to dress.
As she opened the door she heard a noise and looking
she noticed the end of a leopard’s tail sticking out
from under the bed with the tip gently moving from
side to side. With great presence of mind the young
lady quietly went out and closed the door. Nairobi
had many possibilities of thrills in those days. It

106 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

was about the same time that a gentleman hurrying
from town up to the Government House one evening
met a lion in the middle of the street to the embarrass-
ment of both parties. _

There are some phrases in Tennyson’s “‘Charge of
the Light Brigade” that put me in mind of the rhi-
noceros, or ‘‘rhino,”’ as everyone calls him in Africa.

“Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and
die.”

But it is stupidity, not duty, that keeps the rhino
from reasoning. He is the stupidest old fellow in
Africa. I know that many experienced hunters like-
wise consider him one of the most dangerous animals
in Africa. I can’t quite agree with this. Of course,
if he runs over you not only is it dangerous, but it is
also likely to be fatal. It is also true that as soon as
he smells man he is likely to start charging around in
a most terrifying manner, but the rhino is never cun-
ning like the elephant, nor is his charge accurate like
that of a lion, nor is the rhino vindictive like the
buffalo or the leopard. Most men’s estimates of the
relative dangers of African animals are based upon
their own experiences. The animals that have mauled
them worst or scared them worst they hold most
dangerous. I have been mauled by an elephant,
chewed by a leopard, and scared half to death a dozen
times by lions, so that I have the very firmest con-
victions about the dangers of these animals. On the
other hand, I have twice been caught by rhinos in
positions where an elephant, a lion, or a leopard would

LEOPARDS AND RHINOS 107

have had me in no time, and both times the rhinos
left me unmolested.

When I first went to Africa I had the same ex-
perience as everyone else. Rhinos getting wind of
me would charge me and to save myself I'd shoot. I
suppose I had stood off twenty of these charges with
my rifle before I discovered that if I did not shoot it
would not necessarily be fatal. I discovered the fact,
of course, quite by accident. I was going along the
bank of the Tana River one day with my camera.
My gun boys were some distance behind so as not to
disturb any animal that might afford a picture. Sud-
denly I was set all a-quiver by the threshings and
snortings of a rhino coming through the bushes in
my direction. I very hastily took stock of the situa-
tion. There was nothing to climb. Between me
and the thicket from which the rhino was coming
was about twenty-five feet of open space. Behind
me was a 30-foot drop to the crocodile-infested waters
of the Tana. The only hope I saw was a bush over-
hanging the brink which looked as if it might or might
not hold me if I swung out on it. I decided to try
the bush and let the rhino land in the river, trusting to
luck that I wouldn’t join him there. The bushes
were thrust aside and he came full tilt into the open-
ing where he could see me. Everything was set for
the final act. He suddenly stopped with a snort.
His head drooped. His eyes almost closed. He
looked as if he were going to sleep. The terrible
beast had become absolutely ludicrous. While this
was going on I felt a poke in my back. I reached

108 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

behind and took my rifle from the gun boy who had
come up with equal celerity and bravery. I drew a
bead on the old fellow but I could not shoot. A
stupider or more ludicrous looking object I never
saw. I began talking to him, but it did not rouse
him from his lethargy. There he stood, half asleep
and totally oblivious, while I, with the gun half aimed,
talked to him about his ugly self. About this time
my porters came into hearing on a path behind the
rhino. He pricked up his ears and blundered off in
that direction. I heard the loads dropping as the
porters made for the trees. The rhino charged
through the safari and off into the bush.

At another time, somewhat later, three of them
charged me when [ was sitting down and unarmed.
I couldn’t rise in time to get away or reach a gun, so
I merely continued to sit. This time they didn’t stop
and doze, but they went by on both sides ten or fifteen
feet away. Such a charge was much more pleasing
to me and apparently quite as satisfactory to them as
one in which they were successful in their attack.
These experiences have led me to think that in his
blundering charges the rhino has no clear objective, as
a lion has, for instance. Even his blundering charge
is dangerous, of course, if you are in the way, but I
firmly believe that the rhino is too stupid to be either
accurate in his objective, fixed in his purpose, or
vindictive in his intentions.

This does not mean that a lot of people have not
been killed by rhinos. They have; but I do believe
that compared with other African animals the danger

LEOPARDS AND RHINOS ‘09

of the rhino is generally exaggerated. When he
smells something he comes toward the scent until
he sees what it is. As he can’t see very far, no man
with a gun is likely to let him come within seeing dis.
tance without shooting. So the stupid old beast
goes charging around hoping to see the source of
what he smells and in addition to getting himself shot
has made a reputation for savagery. In fact, he has
blundered around and been shot so much that old
rhinos with big horns are growing scarce.

I remember coming up over the top of a little rise
one day and seeing across the plain an old rhino
standing motionless in the shade of a solitary acacia
about two hundred yards away. ‘The usual tick birds
sat on his back. It was a typical rhino pose. As I
stood looking for more entertainment, a second rhino
came mouching along between me and number one.
Number one evidently heard him. The birds flew
off his back, he pricked up his ears, and broke into a
charge toward number two. Number two recipro-
cated. Their direction was good and they had
attained full speed. I longed for a camera to photo-
graph the collision. But the camera would have
done me no good. The collision did not happen.
When about twenty feet from each other they stopped
dead, snorted, and turned around, number one return-
ing to doze under his tree and number two continuing
the journey which had been interrupted. I suppose
that rhinos have acquired the habit of charging when-
ever they smell anything because until the white man
came along they could investigate in this peculiar

110 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

manner with impunity. Everything but an elephant
or another rhino would get out of the way of one of
these investigating rushes, and of course an elephant
or another rhino is big enough for even the rhino’s
poor eyes to see before he gets into trouble.

The coming of the white man with the rifle upset
all this, but the rhino has learned less about protect-
ing himself from man than the other animals. Man
went even further in breaking the rules of rhino exist-
ence. The railroad was an even worse affront than
the rifle. The rhino furnished some of the comedy
of the invasion of the game country by the Uganda
Railway. In the early days of that road a friend of
mine was on the train one day when a rhino charged it.
The train was standing still out in the middle of the
plain. An old rhino, either hearing it or smelling
man, set out on the customary charge. The train
didn’t move and he didn’t swerve. He hit the run-
ning board of one car at full speed. There was a
terrific jolt. My friend rushed to the platform. As
he reached it the rhino was getting up off his knees.
He seemed a little groggy but he trotted off, conscious,
perhaps, that railroad trains cannot be routed by the
rhino’s traditional method of attack.

CHAPTER VI

ALONG ‘THE TRAIL

HE land teems with the beasts of the chase,

infinite in number and incredible in variety.

It holds the fiercest beasts of ravin, and the
fleetest and most timid of those beings that live in
undying fear of talon and fang. It holds the largest
and the smallest of hoofed animals. It holds the
mightiest creatures that tread the earth or swim in
its rivers; it also holds distant kinsfolk of these same
creatures, no bigger than woodchucks, which dwell in
crannies of the rocks and in tree tops. There are
antelope smaller than hares and antelope larger than
oxen. There are creatures which are the embodi-
ments of grace, and others whose huge ungainliness
is like that of a shape in a nightmare. The plains
are alive with droves of strange and beautiful animals
whose like is not known elsewhere; and with others
even stranger that show both in form and temper
something of the fantastic and the grotesque.”

So Theodore Roosevelt, in that vivid word picture
of jungle sights and sounds, the foreword of “African
Game Trails,” suggests the vast variety of animal
acquaintances the hunter may make in Africa. I
have sought out or happened upon many others be-
sides my particular friends, the elephants and gorillas.

I7I

102 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

One of those whose “‘huge ungainliness is like that of
a shape in a nightmare” is the hippopotamus. The
small dugout in which the native makes his way up
and down the Tana River is just a nice mouthful for
him. He can splinter one between his great jaws in
no time if he is sufficiently stirred up, but fortunately
for the natives he is not easily enraged. He is more
or less like the rhinoceros except that, while he is
equally stupid, he rarely gets mad and so is not often
dangerous.

Along the Tana River in 1906 the hippos were
still very abundant, and I presume that a hunter
passing along that stream to-day might shoot all he
could possibly want. Although I saw probably only
a small proportion of all I actually passed, I counted
more than two hundred in a ten-mile march along
the Tana. Sheltered by the rather high and precipi-
tous banks of the river, the hippopotami if undis-
turbed bask quietly on the sand-bars during the day.
If one is disturbed, he takes to the water, leaving
exposed only the top of his head, his eyes, and nos-
trils, so that if he remains motionless one usually
has to spend some time to determine whether the
object protruding from the water is a hippo’s head
or a slate-coloured rock. If really frightened, he
submerges entirely, exposing only his nostrils and
those just long enough to blow and take in a fresh
supply of air. Then down he goes, not to appear
again for several minutes, frequently in quite a differ-
ent place.

Cuninghame and I had a good opportunity to test

ALONG THE TRAIL 113

his disposition one day as we were crossing Lake
Naivasha. I was sitting at the tiller in the stern of
the boat about half asleep in the hot sun of midday
when there was a sudden explosion and our boat was
lifted well out of the water. The keel had struck
the back of a submerged hippopotamus. He came
up thirty yards away with his mouth open, but he
made no attempt to attack. We had the good luck
to come down right side up, shipping only a little
water. I hope he was as badly frightened as I was.

Because he is so little sport, even the pot hunters
have left the hippo alone. However, most of the
African tribes consider hippopotamus meat good eat-
ing and he is frequently killed by the natives for food.
The fact is that in times of famine this animal is a
valuable source of supply. In 1906, when we were
on the Tana River, I found a bone yard with the
bones of a great number of hippopotami along with
various human bones. In a famine some fifteen or
twenty years earlier, so the story goes, the natives
had gravitated toward the Tana River to kill hippo-
potami to keep from starving and there had fought
over this last source of food.

Double rows of tracks with grass growing between
them, like those made by a wagon, trail along the
Tana and are cut deep into the river’s banks, where
through long years the hippos have come up at night
to graze and browse. His is a double track, because
in travelling he does not place one foot before the
other. He finds no food in the water, but he is at
home there, and sometimes travels long distances

114 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

overland from one pool or stream to another. How
far he treks in this way I do not know, and the ques-
tion is much disputed. I am certain that it is some-
times as much as fifty miles.

While I have found but little enjoyment in shooting
any kind of animal, I confess that in hunting ele-
phants and lions under certain conditions I have al-
ways felt that the animal had sufficient chance in the
game to make it something like a sporting proposi-
tion. On the other hand, much of the shooting that
I have had to do in order to obtain specimens for
museum collections has had none of this aspect at
all and has made me feel a great deal like a murderer.
One of the worst of my experiences was with the
wild ass of Somaliland on my first trip to Africa.
These animals are rare, and as they are the only mem-
bers of the horse family in that part of Africa, the
Field Museum of Natural History was anxious to get
specimens of them.

After several heart-breaking days’ work my com-
panion, Dodson, and I had secured but one specimen
and several were needed for a group. One day
under guidance of natives who promised to take us
to a country where they abounded, we started out
at three o’clock in the morning, with a couple of
camels to bring back the skins if we got them. At
about eight, as we were crossing a sandy plain where
here and there a dwarfed shrub or tuft of grass had
managed to find sustenance, one of the gun-bearers

pointed out in the distance an object which he de-

—— ee a ne

ALONG THE “TRAIL Iis

clared to be an ass. We advanced slowly. As there
was no cover, there was no possibility of a stalk, and
the chance of a shot at reasonable range seemed re-
mote, for we had found in our previous experience
that the wild ass is extremely shy and when once
alarmed travels rapidly and for long distances. We

-approached to within two hundred yards and had
begun to think that it was a native’s tame donkey
and expected to see its owner appear in the neighbour-
hood, when it became uneasy and started to bolt; but
its curiosity brought it about for a last look and we
took advantage of the opportunity and fired. It was
hard hit, apparently, but recovered and stood facing
us. We approached closer, and thinking it best to
take no chances fired again—and then he merely
walked about a little, making no apparent effort to
go away. We approached carefully. He showed no
signs of fear, and although “hard hit”’ stood stolidly
until at last I put one hand on his withers and, trip-
ping him, pushed him over. I began to feel that if
this was sport I should never be a sportsman.

We now discovered that our scant supply of water
was exhausted and although we wished to continue
the hunt we realized that to get farther from camp
without water would be risky indeed. The guide had
assured us that there would be plenty of opportunity
to get water on our route but we knew that it was five
hours back to water, the way we had come, and five
hours without water in the middle of the day would
mean torture. It is said that in that region thirty
hours without water means death to the native and

116 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

twelve hours is the white man’s limit. The guide
assured us that if we would continue on an hour
longer we would find water. After four hours of
hard, hot marching we arrived at a hole in the ground
where some time there had been water but not a drop
remained. After a little digging at the bottom of the
hole the natives declared there was no hope. Our
trail for the last hour had been under a pitiless noon-
day sun along a narrow valley shut in on either side
by steep, rocky hills, while we faced a veritable sand
storm, a strong, hot wind that drove the burning sand
into our faces and hands. The dry well was the last:
straw.

The guides said there was one more hole about an
hour away and they would go and see if there was
water there. They with the gun-bearers started out,
while we off-saddled the mules and using the saddles
for pillows and the saddle blankets to protect our
faces from the driving sand, dozed in the scant shade
of a leafless thorn tree.

At four o’clock the boys returned—no water.
Dodson and I received the report, looked at one an-
other, and returned to our pillows beneath the saddle
blankets. A little later a continued prodding in the
ribs from my gun-bearer brought me to attention
again as he pointed out an approaching caravan con-
sisting of several camels and a couple of natives. Each
of the natives carried a well-filled goatskin from his
shoulders, and realizing that these goatskins probably
contained milk, I knew that our troubles were nearly
over. I instructed the gun-bearer to make a bargain

ALONG THE TRAIL 117

for part of the milk and covered my head again to
escape the pelting of the sand and waited.

We were both in a semi-comatose state and I paid
no further attention to proceedings until I was again
prodded by the gun-bearer who was now greatly
excited. He pointed to the receding camels while he
jabbered away to the effect that the natives would not
part with any of the plentiful supply of milk. The
white men might die for all they cared.

When I had come to a realization of the situation,
there seemed to be only one solution to the affair—
a perfectly natural solution—precisely the same as
if they had stood over us with their spears poised at
our hearts. I grabbed my rifle and drew a bead on
one of the departing men and called to Dodson to
get up and cover the other. I waited while Dodson
was getting to an understanding of the game and
then when he was ready and I was about to give the
word the natives stopped, gesticulating wildly. The
gun-bearer who had been shouting to them told us
not to shoot, that the milk would come, and it did.
Milk! Originally milked into a dung-lined smoked
chattie, soured and carried in a filthy old goatskin
for hours in the hot sun. But it was good. I have
never had a finer drink.

An hour before sundown, greatly refreshed, we
started back to camp. Just at dusk the shadowy
forms of five asses dashed across our path fifty yards
away and we heard a bullet strike as we took a snap
at them. One began to lag behind as the others ran
wildly away. The one soon stopped and we ap-

118 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

proached, keeping him covered in case he attempted
to bolt. As we got near he turned and faced us with
great, gentle eyes. Without the least sign of fear or
anger he seemed to wonder why we had harmed him.

The only wound was from a small bullet high in
the neck, merely a flesh wound which would have
caused him no serious trouble had he continued with
the herd. We walked around him within six feet and
I almost believe we could have put a halter on him.
Certainly it would have been child’s play to have
thrown a rope over his head. We reached camp
about midnight and I announced that if any more
wild asses were wanted, someone else would have to
shoot them. I had had quite enough. Normally,
the ass is one of the wildest of creatures and it is
dificult to explain the actions of these two. They
appeared not to realize that we were the cause of
their injuries but rather seemed to expect relief as
we approached—and yet one English “sportsman”
boasted of having killed twenty-eight.

While I have never had a zebra stand after being
wounded, in all other respects his habits resemble
very closely those of his kin, the wild ass of Somali-
land. Occasionally, man has captured and domesti-
cated zebras so that he may use them in a four-horse
team. But this is done only for the amusement it
affords, because the zebra, like all wild animals, has
never quite enough of the endurance that.is bred into
a domesticated horse to make him useful in harness.
In wild life he requires only sufficient stamina ta
yutrun a lion for a short distance.

ALONG THE ‘TRAIL 119

There is no fun in shooting zebras and wild asses.
It makes one uncomfortable. Probably we are par-
ticularly thin-skinned when it comes to shooting the
members of the horse family because we are used to
them, or at least to their kindred, as domesticated
friends, but as a matter of fact that is quite as reason-
able as to think of killing deer or antelope as a sport.
With most deer there is no danger. The only prob-
lem is to get close enough for a shot. While an
approach may be difficult in some parts of the world
—and this is true with certain species of antelope in
Africa—most of the plains antelope cannot be shot
on the ground of sport. For food and scientific pur-
poses, however, the case is different.

One of the hardest to shoot among the so-called
bovine antelopes is the koodoo. He is a beautiful,
high-bred animal with clean-cut head and long spiral
horns. While almost as large as an elk, he is grace-
fully built and stylish in action. His coat is gray,
delicately marked with white stripes. As the animal
matures, the hair becomes short and thin and the
stripes fade. All in all, the koodoo is one of the finest
big antelope. On that score he has no competitors
except the sable and the roan.

A group of greater koodoos was a particular desid-
eratum of the Field Museum and therefore one of
the special objectives of my first African trip. As a
matter of fact, we succeeded in collecting the material
necessary and the group is on exhibition in the Field
Museum in Chicago now. The old bull standing
with lifted head on top of the rock in the present

120 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

group was the second koodoo that I ever saw. The
first one was his mate whom I was about to shoot,
totally unconscious of the presence of the old bull.
He stood beside her, his outline broken up by sur-
rounding rocks and bushes, and I overlooked him en-
tirely until he began to move. As he started to run
I fired a shot. He bounded into the air, and as he
struck the ground I fired again. The first shot had
gone through his heart and the second broke his back.

When talking to people about shooting, I like to
recall my koodoo experiences, because, while I am
not a good shot as shooting goes in Africa, my two
experiences with koodoos compare pretty favourably
with the best. On the first occasion, one of my two
shots landed in the heart and the other broke the
koodoo’s back. In my next koodoo hunt, my shoot-
ing was even more remarkable and for me more un-
usual. I came in sight of this second koodoo when
he was too far away to shoot at and he rapidly ran
out of sight through a country of little hills and ra-
vines and scrub growth. I tracked him until I lost
his trail. Then I decided to try to follow him by
instinct and, constituting myself an escaping koodoo,
I went where I thought such an animal should. I
knew I was not exactly on his route because I could
see no tracks. Then, too, something cord-like,
weaving together the bushes on either side of my
path, for a moment impeded my progress. It was a
strand of web, the colour of gold, spun by a handsome
yellow spider with black legs. Twisted together, it
was substantial enough to be wound around and

ALONG THE TRAIL 121

around my watch chain where I wore it for several
years. Had my koodoo passed between those bushes,
the web would, I knew, have been his necklace in-
stead of my watch charm.

After following instinctively for two or three miles,
I came to the top of a ridge which looked down across
a ravine 500 to 600 yards wide. I crawled to the
edge and looked over carefully, hoping to see my
prey, but as I saw nothing I decided to get up and
either scare him or give up the chase. As I stood
up I saw him halfway across the ravine a little more
than 300 yards away. When I rose, he began to run
in the opposite direction. I had little chance of hit-
ting him and so I fired at the rocks on the other side
of the ravine. The wind was blowing from him to me
and I did not know how distinctly he couid hear the
rifle, but there was no doubt about his hearing the
rocks clatter down where the bullets struck. He
stopped abruptly, listening, and as he did so I lay
down and rested my rifle on the rocks. He was
pausing behind a candelabra euphorbia so that I
could see nothing but his head. I took careful aim
and fired. A fraction of a second after the shot, when
I had recovered from the kick of the rifle and had
focussed my eyes on the spot, the koodoo was no-
where in sight. When I reached the euphorbia, he
lay there dead. I looked him over to find where the
bullet had hit him but found ne sign of it. I turned
him over and looked at his other side with no better
results except that I found a few drops of blood. On
further search I discovered that the bullet had gone

122 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

in behind his ear. As he listened to the falling rocks,
the ear had been thrown forward; as he fell, the ear
had swung back to normal position and covered the
tiny hole made by the full mantled bullet. The
bullet had come out of his eye, but when I got there
the eye was closed, so that the point of exit had been
concealed also.

One day as I approached the hills, while I was still
hunting koodoo for my group, I saw in the distance
four animals which I took to be koodoo. They stood
on a rock-strewn slope beneath an acacia tree and, as
there were no horns visible, I assumed that they were
cows and calves. I required one of each to complete
my group. I made a careful stalk along the same
ravine from which I had approached my first koodoo
and, when I thought that I was at about the right
point, I peered out and found the animals standing
where I had seen them first, apparently about 200
yards away. I fired, and one dropped in his tracks.
They were startled but had not located my direction
and ran about confusedly. My second shot dropped
another and the third shot wounded one which ran
almost directly toward us. He covered the distance
in an amazingly short time and went down beneath
the bush only a little way from me. It was then that
I came to a realization of what was happening. In-
stead of being koodoo 200 yards away, these were
antelope pygmies less than 50 yards away and not
more than twenty-three inches high at the shoulder.
I had been completely fooled, but by what? That
was the question. !

ALONG THE TRAIL 123

I went over to the bush where the wounded animal
had gone down near me, and stood for a moment
looking at him open-mouthed and wondering what he
was. Never had I heard of such an antelope. He
had sharp straight horns four inches long and was a
beautiful French gray in colour. Before I could
observe anything else, he sprang to his feet and
darted away on three legs faster, it seemed to me, than
anything I had ever seen travel. I shot several times
but never touched him. I followed for hours but did
not overtake him. Later I learned that he was one of
the little beira antelope. The species had been
described some time before from fragments of skin
obtained from natives. As far as records show,
these specimens, an adult female and a half-grown
one, were the first specimens taken by a white man.

This is a good example of a mistake that a hunter
may easily make where there is nothing about of
known size to give scale. The outline of the beira,
characterized by the large ears, is almost a miniature
of that of the koodoo. These tiny antelope had stood
against a background of acacias on a pebbly slope.
Acacias grow both large and small and a pebble
among pebbles on a distant hillside may appear as
a large boulder.

I continued hunting the little devils in a desperate
effort to get amaleatleast. Several times I spent the
day working about the two cone-shaped hills, now
and then catching glimpses of the beira, only to have
them disappear before I could shoot or get near
enough to shoot. Several times when leaving the

124 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

hills at dusk I turned around to see just on the skyline
the heads and necks of three little antelope watching
me as I went away discouraged. I believe they are
the cunningest little beasties in all Africa.

As my beira antelope was the first specimen ever
taken—or at least recorded—by a white man, it was
a record. Another record head which I took came
equally by chance. One evening as I came out of
the forest, after some rather troublesome experiences
with elephants, I caught sight of a bush buck. He
caught sight of me also, and instead of making off
he seemed to glare at me and stood stamping his foot.
I may have imagined his emotions, but it seemed to
me that all the animals were angry with me that day.
I remember that it went through my mind, “I be-
lieve this fellow is going to charge, too.” Then it
occurred to me that we needed meat in camp, so I
shot him and told the boys to cut him up and bring
him in. As soon as they reached him, they called
to me and I went over to see what was the matter.
They showed me an unusually fine head. So I saved
it. It turned out to be the record bush buck head at
that time and I am not sure that it is not still.

The lesser koodoo, which is to be found in Somali-
land in the aloe country at the base of the Golis range,
is likewise a truly sporting animal, keen of sight and
scent and fleet of foot. My first lesser koodoo stood
looking at me through a bush no more than twenty-
five yards away. My gun boy tried to point him out
to me but I saw nothing until something bit the
koodoo’s ear and he flicked it. Realizing that he

ALONG THE TRAIL 125

had given himself away, he jumped before I could
shoot and I tracked him for an hour before I again
came upon him. Then I saw him first. There is
no finer sight in Africa than a lesser koodoo bull
bounding over the spiny aloes with all of the grace of
a porpoise in the water.

One of the most interesting antelope of Somaliland
is the dibitag or Clark’s gazelle. The dibitag live
in the waterless bush country of the Haud and are
shy and difficult to stalk. With their long legs and
long necks they resemble and are closely related to
the gerenuks (Waller’s gazelle), but are less well
known as they are confined to a limited range. In
following an old male who had been travelling at full
speed I found that its stride averaged twenty-eight
feet, but at the same time he kept so close to the
ground that midway of the stride, when one foot was
carried forward, it scraped the sand. The animal
weighs no more than seventy-five pounds. It is the
most beautifully developed antelope I have ever
handled, with muscles and loins rounded out like those
ofa prize fighter. These gazelle never have any fat
and never drink any water. In fact, there is no water to
be had except that in the vegetation, which is very little
in a country where it has not rained for two years.

Unlike these sporting animals, the gazelle of the
plains remind one of great herds of sheep, so gentle
where they have not been hunted that one may come
close enough to throw stones at them. On the other
hand, where they have been shot, they grow wild and
very difficult to approach. Here again is evidence

126 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

that the thing that makes animals wild is man. In
the antarctics and other places where man has not
previously come and where the animals know no fear,
the explorer can fairly tickle the seals under the chin.
Animals in their natural state are not instinctively
afraid of man, but they have learned from sad ex-
perience that man is bad medicine.

In direct contrast to the camp in Somaliland where
we had been forced to quench our thirst with soured
goat’s milk taken from a passing caravan at the point
of a rifle, was our camp on Lake Hannington, the
home of the flamingos. The caravan route from
Nakuru on the Uganda Railway to Lake Baringo
swings in close to the Laikipia Escarpment at the
east side of the Rift Valley and just at the north end
of Hannington. Therefore, travellers usually get
their first view of the lake at this northern point
where few flamingos are to be seen except in breeding
season and where the water is shallow, bordered by
low mud flats crusted with a deposit of salts mingled
with feathers, bones, and the droppings of the great
colony. If the unattractiveness of the place were not
sufficient to discourage a disposition to explore the
lake, the sickening stench from the green waters must
dishearten any one who has not a definite object in
further investigation. Being unfamiliar with the
region, we ignored the trail which would have given
us this forbidding northern approach. As we neared
the escarpment from the south, we found a small
stream of crystal-clear water, and although it was too

ALONG THE TRAIL 127

warm to be palatable, we were delighted with the
discovery since the porters and horses were sadly
in need of water. We decided to make camp here,
and while selecting a place for the tents, the cook
discovered a spring of boiling water which he appro-
priated for his uses. A little farther on a spring of
ice-cold water was located so that we had all modern
improvements as far at least as water supply was
concerned.

After making camp, an hour’s walk brought us to
the top of a rocky hill from which we had an excellent
view of nearly the entire length of the lake, an ir-
regular sheet of water eight or ten miles long by per-
haps two miles at the widest point. It lay before
us, a shimmering blue-green mirror with occasional
strips of snow-white beach. At the south end, that
part nearest us, the water was much darker in colour
owing to its greater depth, and the steep slopes of
the escarpment were mirrored in its surface. Here
and there along the shores jets and clouds of steam
spurted forth from the numerous boiling springs and
miniature geysers. Far away toward the centre of
the lake what seemed great peninsulas and islands of
rosy pink broke the placid surface of the lake—these
were the flamingos that we had come to see.

A two hours’ journey up the tortuous rock-strewn
western shore brought us to the region which seems
to be their favourite haunt. On our approach, the
great flocks rose from the water and flew across
toward the opposite shore, many alighting in mid-lake.
As the birds arose, the splashing of water made by

128 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

their running over the surface to get a start, the beat-
ing of wings, and the “kronk-kronk”’ of their calls
created an indescribable din, while the charm of the
marvellously beautiful sight was tempered by the
odours that arose from the putrid waters churned
by the activity of the birds.

The flamingos that had settled in mid-lake soon
began to drift back in our direction and we hurriedly
constructed a rude blind of green boughs on the shore.
Here I awaited their return, camera in position, and
within half an hour was surrounded by acres of the
beautiful creatures. The greater number of the birds
proved to be of the small, more brilliantly coloured
species of African flamingo (Phoenicopterus minor),
although a few of the larger species (Phoenicopterus
roseus) were in small isolated flocks or scattered here
and there among their smaller relatives. Evidently ©
flamingos spend the entire year at Lake Hannington.
So greatly did they interest us on this January visit
that we returned in May hoping to find them nesting,
but we were some six weeks too late. The young birds
in their gray plumage were abundant and traces of the
nests were to be seen at the north end of the lake.

One soon forgets about snakes in Africa although
there are many poisonous species. In my experience
of more than five years in the jungles, wandering
about with from one hundred to two hundred and
fifty semi-naked, barefoot men, I have never had
to deal with a snake bite. On my last journey to the
Kivu I had glimpses of two snakes all told.

ALONG THE TRAIL 129

Nor have I been pestered by mosquitoes. In all
my African experience I have never had as many
mosquitoes to contend with as I have had in a single
night in my apartment on Central Park West. How-
ever,’one avoids a single African mosquito as one
would avoid the pest, because that is just what he
may turn out to be. For six months at a time my
mosquito nets have remained in the duffle bags.

In the game country there are millions of ticks,
but as a rule their worst offence is simply to crawl
over one. The spirillum tick must be avoided. I
have never seen one but I have been incapacitated
and brought near the door of death as a result of his
work. And when the jigger decides to establish a
colony under one’s toenails he cannot be too quickly
nor too carefully dispossessed.

There are other pests besides insects, snakes, and
drouth to be guarded against in Africa. One of these
is fire. In making a camp, it is always wise to burn
off the ground about the tents for the sake of pro-
tection. The most strenuous fight I ever had to
make against a grass fire took place in Uganda the
day that I killed the big bull elephant now in the
Milwaukee Public Museum. We had been working
hard from eleven o’clock in the morning until early
evening. Meanwhile, camp had been made close to
our work in a country of bush and high grass. Im-
mediately surrounding our camp the grass was five
feet high and very dense and dry. To the east of us
was a great jungle of elephant grass, a sort of cane
growing to a height of ten or fifteen feet. For two

130 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

or three hours I was conscious of a great fire to the
east, but there was little wind and it travelled slowly.
Whenever it came to one of the fields of elephant
grass the roaring and crackling was quite appalling,
and when it finally reached the clump of grass nearest
our camp we realized that we would probably have
tomakeafight. ‘There was no time to backfire and so
we tried the next best thing. About twenty-five yards
from the tents we started to make a trail stretching
for a hundred yards across the path of the fire. This
was done by bending the grass down on both sides,
leaving a path along which we could move freely.
Then the job was to stop the fire at the parting of the
grass. A hundred men, each provided with an arm-
ful of green branches, scattered along this thin line
to beat the fire out as it reached the division. We
had a terrific fight. In several places the fire jumped
across the trail, but each time enough men concen-
trated at that point to kill it before it got an over-
powering foothold. It was hot, smoky, desperate
work. When it was ended, the tents were safe al-
though the men were thoroughly done up.

It was one of these grass fires, although by no means
such a persistent one, that threatened Roosevelt’s
camp the night after our elephant hunt on the Uasin
Gishu Plateau.

CHAPTER Vit

BILL

E IS a little Kikuyu thirteen years old who
H has attached himself to our safari; a useful

little beggar, always finds something to
busy himself with; better take him with you. We
call him Bill. ‘‘Come here, Bill.”

Bill came up—a little, naked, thirteen-year-old
“Kuke” with great black eyes. The eyes did it.
Mrs. Akeley decided that Bill should go withus. He
was given a khaki suit two sizes too big for him which
made the black eyes sparkle. He was made the
assistant of Alli, Mrs. Akeley’s tent boy, and his
training as tent boy began.

In six months Bill had become a full-fledged tent
boy, with plenty of time always at his disposal to
mix up with almost everything going on in camp. I
think of him now, after three expeditions in which
he has been with me, as the best tent boy, the best
gun-bearer, the best tracker, and the best headman
that it has ever been my lot to know—a man who, I
know, would go into practically certain death to
serve me. If I were starting out on an expedition
among unknown people in Africa I would rather have
Bill as a headman and as a counselor in dealing with

131

032 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

the savages, even though they were people of whom
Bill knew nothing, than any one I know of.

During that first six months’ apprenticeship Bill
was always busy. When there was nothing to do
about camp he would borrow some of Heller’s traps
and set them for jackals, or he would be poking about
the bush looking for lizards or snakes that we might
want for the collections. Months passed, and Bill
was an inconspicuous member of our little army of
followers. We were camped on the top of the
Aberdare; Cuninghame and I were returning from a
fruitless four days on elephant trails. As we neared
camp we saw Mrs. Akeley come out on the road ahead
of us, with Alli acting as gun-bearer. An elephant
had passed a few hundred yards from camp and she
had come out to the road in the hope of getting a shot
asit crossed. A little farther on toward camp we met
Bill, stripped to the waist, carrying my 8 mm. rifle
and a pocket of 6 mm. cartridges. If there was
anything doing Bill had to be in it.

A few weeks later on, our wanderings took us into
Kikuyu country and near to Bill’s native village.
He sent for his ““mamma,” to whom he wanted to
give some of his earnings. So his mother came to
camp and Bill introduced her. He led me out to
where she was leaning against a rock, and pointing
to her said, ““mamma.” She was a young shenzie
woman of the usual type, dressed in a leather skirt
and bead and brass ornaments.

One day Bill had the sulks and was scolded for not
doing something that he had been told to do. He

BILL 133

said he knew his work and didn’t have to be told what
to do. It made him perfectly furious to be continu-
ally told to do things which he knew to be a part of
his duties. Nor would he shirk his duties. If he
failed to do things at the proper time, in nine cases
out of ten it was because someone had been telling
him to do the things and it had made him ugly. This
characteristic is as pronounced now as ever, and has
been the cause of the most of poor Bill’s troubles.

At last our work was over and we returned to
Nairobi to prepare for our departure from Africa.
As soon as we arrived Bill demanded his pay. We
wanted him to stay until we were ready to leave
Nairobi, but no, he wanted to be free to spend his
money; so he left us in spite of the fact that in doing
so he sacrificed his dacksheesh. He promptly spent
all his money for clothes, having them made to order
by the Indian traders, but within two weeks he had
lost all the clothes in gambling. Thus ended Bill’s
first year’s career as a tent boy.

Four years later we returned to East Africa.
Several months previously, Alli and Bill had been
engaged for the Roosevelt Expedition, but before we
reached there Bill had disgraced himself, and had been
turned out and black-listed. But knowing some-
thing of the probable conditions which had contrib-
uted to his downfall, we were glad to get him and
he was glad to come. There were four of our party,
and most of the other tent boys and the kitchen con-
tingent were Swahilis, so we rather expected that
Bill would have trouble. But his first real trouble

134 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

came of an exaggerated sense of loyalty to me, or at
least that was his excuse. During my absence from
camp one of my companions asked Bill for some sup-
plies from a box to which Bill had the keys, but he
refused to get them, saying that he must have an
order from his own Bwana. It was cheek, and he
had to be punished; the punishment was not severe,
but coming from me it went hard with him and I had
to give him a fatherly talk to prevent his running
away. Whenever we reached a Joma, or Nairobi, we
expected Bill to have a grouch. His irresistible im-
pulse to spend money and the desire to keep it, too,
upset him, and going to Nairobi usually meant that
he would be paid in full and discharged; but the next
day he would turn up and continue to do his work
with a long face until he would manage to screw up
courage to ask if the Bwana would take him on the
next trip, and then he would be all grins and the
troubles were over.

Sometimes in hunting dangerous game I would
take him along as extra gun-bearer and usually on
these occasions his marvellous keenness of eye and
ability to track would result in the regular gun-
bearers being relegated to the rear. One time while
hunting elephants in Uganda I let him go with me.
We had finished inspecting a small herd, decided
there was nothing in it that I wanted, and were going
back to take up the trail of another lot in a section
where the country was all trodden down by the
going and coming of numerous herds. As we went
along Bill detected the spoor of two big bulls and 1

BILL 335

told him to follow it, not thinking for a moment that
he would be able to hold it in the maze of herd tracks.
On our last visit to town he had invested in a stiff
brim straw hat and a cane, and he looked like any-
thing but an elephant tracker as he walked jauntily
along with his straw hat on the back of his head and
swinging his cane like a dandy. For five hours he
followed that trail with the utmost nonchalance, in
places where it would have given the professional
tracker the greatest trouble and where nine out of
ten would have lost it. At last, as it led us through
a dense bush, Bill suddenly stopped and held up his
cane as a signal for caution; as I drew up to him there
were two old bulls not twenty feet from us. When
one of them was dead and the other gone | felt much
more comfortable than when I first realized the situa-
tion into which we had blundered.

But the time that Bill earned our everlasting grati-
tude and immunity from punishment for present
misdeeds was when I was smashed up by the elephant
on Mt. Kenia. He was with Mrs. Akeley at the base
camp when the news reached her at dusk, and it was
past midnight when she was ready to come to me
through that awful twenty miles of forest and jungle
in the blackness of a drenching rain. While headman
and askaris were helpless, stupidly sharing the fear and
dread of the forest at night which paralyzed the port-
ers and guides, it was Bill with a big stick who put
them in motion and literally drove them ahead of
Mrs. Akeley tome. And then it was he who directed
the cutting of the road out of the forest for the pas-

136 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

sage of my stretcher, enlisting the services of a chief
with his people to cut a road in from the shambas
to meet our porters who were working outward.

One day when I was convalescing, Bill called on a
porter to perform some service about my tent. The
porter refused tocome. Bill went out to “interview”
him. The porter was twice as large as Bill—there
was a little scuffle, and Bill came right back and did
the work himself. Then he went over to the doctor’s
tent and conducted him out to where he had left the
porter. It took the doctor a half hour to bring the
porter to. Then the other porters came up in a body
and said that Bill must go or they would all go. I
told them that the first of their number who com-
plained of Bill or refused to do his bidding would get
“twenty-five.” The average black boy would have
taken advantage of the situation created by these
victories—not so with Bill. After that, whenever he
had occasion to pass an order to a porter, he always
did it through the headman.

Perhaps I should explain at this point just what
the normal personnel of a safari in British East Africa
is. First, there is the headman, who is supposed to
be in charge of the whole show, excepting the gun-
bearers and tent boys, who are the personal servants
and under the immediate direction of their masters.
The askaris are soldiers who are armed and whose
duties consist of the guarding of the camp at night
and looking after the porters on the march. There is
one askari to from ten to twenty porters. The cook
and his assistant or assistants, the number of whom is

BILL 137

determined by the size of the party, are important
members of the safari. Then there are tent boys, one
to each member of the party, whose duty is to look af-
ter the tents and clothing, and to serve their masters
or mistresses at table. The syces are pony boys,
whose duties are to look after the horses and equip-
ment. In addition to those already named come the
rank and file of porters whose duties are manifold,
carrying loads on the march, gathering wood under
the direction of the askaris and the cook, bringing in
game, beating for lions, setting up the tents under the
direction of the tent boys, and so forth.

I do not know of any case where Bill’s character
was better demonstrated than at the time when I
was convalescent after the elephant smashed me up.
I was able to walk about, but had to have someone
carry a chair along so that I could sit down to rest.
A little distance away from camp, at the edge of the
Kenia forest, there was a great swampy place sur-
rounded on three sides by a high ridge and on the
fourth side by the forest. One day the natives came
in and reported that an old bull elephant had come
out into this swampy place, and they said that he
would probably stay in there for a week or ten days.
These old lone bulls come out into one of these feeding
grounds, where they are not likely to be disturbed by
their companions, and for 2 time simply loaf around
and feed and then go away again. We started out
pne morning to look this one up, and went to the edge
vf the forest, where the boys showed us his trail.
We followed it, and found that it was joined by the

138 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

fresh trail of a second elephant. I started to walk
down the trail, but found that I was not in physical
condition to go on, so I sent the boys up and around
the ridge of this crater-like depression, instructing
them to throw stones into the bush as they went
along. They had not gone far when one of the ele-
phants was beaten out and started to go across the
bottom of the crater, over open ground. He was
probably three hundred yards away from me, and
as he approached the forest on the other side it oc-
curred to me that I might get him rattled by shooting
into the trees ahead of him. So I shot—the bullets
crashed through the trees in front and frightened him,
and he wheeled around and started back. I had
hoped that he would come my way, but he did not.
In the intense excitement I shot at him three or four
times. A little puff of dust from his dry hide told
me the story of my aim, and while one or two of the
bullets apparently struck in the right place, it was
evident that there was not sufficient penetration to
get results.

The whole thing was very foolish, but since I had
wounded him it was absolutely essential that I finish
the job. The elephant turned again and went on
across to the opposite side, and now I had to get on
his trail and follow him. From a hundred yards
away he got our wind momentarily, and threatened
to charge. Another shot turned him, and he disap-
peared into the bush. An hour later I had a good
view of him at about seventy-five yards and under
conditions where I normally could have made an ap-

BILL 139

proach to within a distance from which I might have
dropped him in his tracks. But at this point I was so
exhausted that I took a final shot at him from where
I stood, seventy-five yards away. He went down,
but got to his feet again and went into the bush. The
boys helped me back intocamp. I felt perfectly cer-
tain that we would find him dead in the morning. The
whole thing had been stupid and unsportsmanlike.

The next morning, with a few of the boys, I went
back and took up his trail; but much to my disap-
pointment and surprise I found that he and his com-
panion had kept right on into the forest and were
apparently going strong. I knew that he was mor-
tally wounded, and it was necessary that he should
be followed and finished off. It was too big a job
for me in my condition, so it was up to Bill. I gave
Bill one of my gun-bearers and each of them a heavy
.470 cordite rifle, with instructions to stick to the trail
until they found the elephant. They were not to
shoot except in emergency. When the elephant was
found, one of them was to remain with it while the
other came back to report.

I went back to camp and waited. The boys had
no supply of food with them and I had no idea but
that they would be back in camp before night, but
it was not until midnight of the second day that Bill
came to my tent, awakened me, and told his story.
They had followed the elephant without ever coming
up with him except that at one time they heard him
ahead of them; and they had finally decided it was
best to come back to get food and instructions. Bill

140 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

was just about exhausted; and the gun-bearer, a big
husky fellow, had fallen by the wayside. Bill had
left him some five miles back in the forest on the trail.
Evidently Bill considered my elephant guns of more
importance than one black gun boy, as, for fear that
something would happen to the rifles, he had lugged
both of the heavy guns into camp, leaving the boy
with nothing but his knife with which to protect him-
self. I felt, however, that there was little danger
to the gun boy except from exposure, and against
that he no doubt had built a fire. I could think of
nothing to do until daylight. A half hour later some
commotion in camp caused me to send for the head-
man, but Bill came instead. I asked him what was
doing, and he said that he had had trouble in getting
some of the boys to go with him. “Go where?”
I asked. He replied that he was going back to the
gun boy with food. Then I came to. I sent for the
headman and askaris, told Bill to describe to them
the gun boy’s location, and told them they were to
go to his relief, and Bill that he was to go to bed.
This he finally did, after using up what remaining
strength he had in protest. The elephant was not
located.

About a year and a half later, after we had returned
to the States, Bill went back into his home country
and began to search for the wounded elephant. He
must have done some very clever detective work, for
he finally located the native who had found the dead
elephant. This native had secured the tusks, and
had sold one of them to an Indian trader; but the

BILL 141

second was still in his possession. According to the
laws of the land he should have turned in the two
tusks to the government officials, who would have
paid him a nominal price for the ivory, and I, having
filed a claim with the Government, would have come
into possession of the tusks; but the native had
evidently thought that he could get more out of them
by selling them one at a time, and had taken a chance.
But he made a mistake in leaving Bill out of his cal-
culations. Bill followed up the case with the final
result that the remaining tusk was taken and sent
to me, and the Government confiscated a certain
number of cattle belonging to the native as penalty
for the one he had sold. Thus, to both Bill and me,
the final results from that particular elephant hunt
were satisfactory.

One time in Uganda I was using Bill as a gun-bearer
in preference to the regular gun-bearers, because I
had by that time realized that Bill was the best
tracker as well as the most keen and alert hunter,
black or white, that I had ever known. We had
followed a small band of elephants into some dense
forest, and for a long time had been crouching be-
neath some undergrowth where we could get an
occasional glimpse of the elephants’ legs, but nothing
more. They had been quietly feeding during this
time, but at last they moved away and crossed a trail
down which we had a vista of a hundred yards or so.
When we thought the last one had passed, we went
down this trail quickly and quietly to the point where
they had crossed, and there we stopped, listening,

142 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

intently in an attempt to locate them. At first I
thought they had gone out of hearing, when I sud-
denly discovered the rear elevation of a bull not more
than twenty feet from us. He was motionless. We
had come in so quietly that he had not heard us, and
then I did not dare move for fear of attracting his
attention. I craned my neck in an effort to get a
glimpse of his tusks, and in doing this I became
conscious of a cow standing beside the bull and
looking straight at us. Bill was about five feet back
and to one side of me. I stood motionless, without
swinging my gun in the cow’s direction, but waited
for her to make the move. I doubt whether she saw
us distinctly. The bull began to move away and the
cow, in turning to follow, moved a pace more or less
in my direction. I was perfectly certain that she was
going to follow the bull, and to Bill there was no in-
dication that I had seen her. Bill thought she was
coming at me, raised his gun, and fired point blank
into the cow’s face. The elephants bolted. I
wheeled and slapped Bill, because he had broken one
of the rules of the game, which is that a black boy
must never shoot without orders unless his master is
down and at the mercy of a beast. Of course it did
not take long for me to come to a realization that
Bill’s shooting was done in perfectly good faith be-
cause he thought that I had not seen the cow, and he
also thought that she was coming straight at me.
Bill’s heart was broken and my apologies were forth-
coming and were as humble as the dignity of a white
man would permit.

BILL 143

The next day Bill came to me and said that he
wanted to quit and go back to Nairobi. I satisfied
myself that it was not the incident of the day before
that had brought him to this frame of mind, but he
admitted that he was scared and tired. In other
words, the pace had been too hot for him. It was a
case of nerves, and he was worn out. I persuaded
him to stay, telling him that he need not go with me
on elephant trails for a week. I would take the other
boys and he could just stay in camp to loaf and rest.
But the next morning, when I was preparing to go,
Bill was on the job and would not be left behind. He
told Mrs. Akeley that he was not afraid for himself
but was afraid for his Bwana. So we continued our
elephant work at an easier pace than before.

The Wakikuyus (to give them their full name)
are an agricultural people, and one does not normally
look among them for gun-bearers or hunters. They
are a comparatively mild and gentle race, and thus
Bill was quite an exceptional individual. Bill was
always on the job, and if it were not for the two occa-
sions of which I have told, I would be able to say that
he is one human being whom I have never seen tired.

Bill never was and never will be completely tamed.
His loyalty to the master in whom he believes and
for whom he has an affection is unbounded, and I
firmly believe that Bill would go into certain death
for such a master. He has an independence that
frequently gets him into trouble. He does not like
to take orders from any one of his own colour. The
Somalis and the Swahilis, associated with Bill, were

144 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

constantly putting up jobs to get him in bad with the
master because, to these two peoples, the Wakikuyus
are a very inferior race. There is no doubt in my
mind that Bill’s disgrace with the Roosevelt Expedi-
tion was due entirely to the connivance of the Swahilis
and the Somalis.

When we had finished with our lion-spearing ex-
pedition on the Uasin Gishu Plateau, numerous things
had been stolen, and the Somalis insisted that Bill
was the guilty party. A white man whom I had,
employed to take charge of the Nandi spearmen was
not fond of Bill, and one day he ordered him to open
his bag for inspection. Bill refused, and when the
case was brought to me and I investigated it, Bill was
so rebellious that we found it necessary to take him
in hand for mild punishment. He ran from camp and
I sent an askari after him. The askari overtook him,
but he did not bring him back, because Bill had a
long knife and he was prepared to use it to a finish.
I realized that I would have to see it through, al-
though my sympathies were all with Bill. We were
near a government Joma, and I turned my case over
to the officials. Bill was arrested, put in jail, and we
went on without him.

Some weeks later we were making the ascent of
Mt. Kenia, back in Bill’s old country, where Bill’s
services had been almost invaluable; and I continually
felt the need and frequently an actual longing for
Bill. We were up about ten thousand feet on Kenia,
following an elephant trail. We came to an elephant
pit in which some animal had been trapped and made

BILL 145

its escape. I was busy reading the story, which was
very simple. A giant hog had got into the pit and
had worked with his tusks and feet at the sides of his
prison until he had raised the bottom to a point which
enabled him to scramble out and make his escape.
I had been longing for Bill all morning because of
certain troubles we were having with our boys. Just
as we were about to leave the pit to continue our
march up the mountain side I heard a voice behind
me:

“Fambo, Bwana.” [Good morning, Master.”’|

I recognized Bill’s voice. I turned and saw the
most disreputable Bill that I had ever seen. His
‘clothing was worn to shreds, his shoes were practically
all gone, and the only thing about him that was per-
fectly all right was his grin. I wanted to hug him.
I never knew just what happened at the doma except
that after two weeks Bill got out, took up our trail,
and followed us in all of our meanderings, and finally
came up with us at the elephant pit in the gloomy
bamboo forest. He had probably travelled a couple
of hundred miles in overtaking us.

Bill’s training as a tent boy, as I have said, was
under Alli. Alli was a Swahili, and he was not only
one of the most efficient tent boys and all-around men
that we ever had in Africa, but he was especially
valuable on safari because of his ability to entertain
and amuse his fellow men around the campfire at
night. Alli’s sense of the dramatic was extremely
keen. Night after night he would stand in the
centre of a circle of admirers, telling them stories.

146 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

We would often sit and watch him, and we had no
difficulty in following his story, though we understood,
at that time, no Swahili at all. He might perhaps be
describing to his fellows some white man. He would
describe his dress in detail—his tie, his shirt, his cuffs
—and we were usually able to recognize the indi-
vidual from the pantomime of his description. These
stories were sometimes made up from the day’s ex-
perience. For instance, it might be that during the
day I had had some interesting experience or adven-
ture the story of which Alli had gathered from the
gun boys on their return, and when the work was
finished in the evening Alli would give it to his au-
dience in full detail—probably with some additions
that furnished intense interest—often eliciting loud
applause.

One time we had been on an elephant trail a day
and ahalf. I lay beneath a tree, “all in” with spiril-
lum fever, and felt that I could go no farther that
day;so I ordered Billtomake camp. Iwas awakened
from a doze by Bill, and when I asked him if my tent
was ready he replied that it was not but that the
hammock was. He had improvised a hammock which
he ordered me to get into. He had doubled up the
loads of the few porters so that four were released to
carry me. Bill made the porters trot the ten miles
to camp. It was nearly a month before Bill and I
had recovered sufficiently to take up the elephant
trails again.

Another time I was down with black-water fever in
the Nairobi hospital. I had been booked to “‘go

BILL 147

over the Divide” the night before, but somehow
missed connections. I opened my eyes with my face
‘to a window overlooking the porch, and there, looking
over the rail, was Bill, like a faithful dog. It seemed
to me that he stood there for hours with tears in his
eyes staring at his master. A few days later he was
allowed to come into my room. He approached
the foot of the bed with a low “‘Fambo, Bwana.”

I said, “It is all right, Bill; P’1l soon be well.”

With a great gulping sob, he burst into tears and
bolted from the room.

At an African Big Game Dinner in New York al.
most ten years after I left Bill, one of my friends whe
had just returned from British East Africa came to
me and announced that he knew all about me now:
that he had had Bill in his safari, and Bill never lost
an opportunity to tell him stories about Bwana
Akeley. So I know that Bill is still loyal, and there
is no one in all Africa whom I am more keen to see.
I missed him constantly on my trip into the gorilla
country, but because I entered Africa from the south
when I headed for Kivu, I was forced to make up
my safari without him.

CHAPTER VIII

SAFARI HUNTERS

black people, a few Hindus, and fewer white men.

Before my departure for the Athi Plains, where
I planned to begin my collections, I wished to find
a place in Nairobi where I might store material as
I sent it in from time to time from the field. Around
and around I wandered without finding any one who
was able to offer a helpful suggestion. Then one day,
as I was passing the oper. door of an unpromising
galvanized iron building, } ‘\eard the encouraging
clatter of a typewriter and lost no time in investigat-
ing. At the rear of a bare room about thirty feet
wide and forty feet long was a door on the other side
of which someone was plying the typewriter furiously.
Finally there came forth from behind that closed
door a blue-eyed, red-haired chap, apparently ex-
traordinarily busy and much annoyed at being in-
terrupted. However, his annoyance vanished when
I told him what I was looking for and he suggested
that I use a third of the front part of his building at a
rental of five rupees—about a dollar and a half—per
month. This arrangement was eminently satisfac-
tory to me and we closed the bargain at once.

148

N 1905 Nairobi was a town of tin houses, many

SAFARI HUNTERS 149

The red-haired man was Leslie J. Tarlton. No
description of British East Africa is complete without
some reference to Tarlton, the Boer War veteran
now known to hunters the world over because of the
flourishing business he has built up in Nairobi—a
part of which is equipping safari hunters with every-
thing from food to niggers.

Tarlton and his partner, Newland, were Austra-
lians who had served in the Boer War. At its close
they set out to make their fortunes somewhere in
Africa. Coming to Nairobi with none too much of
this world’s goods but plenty of ambition and en-
thusiasm, they were casting about for an objective
when on that morning in 1905 I stumbled upon Tarl-
ton’s iron house. The safari business into which
they fell that day helped to make them prosperous
men until the opening of the World War in 1914 put
an end to African hunting for a time.

Tarlton afterward confessed to me that the type-
writer that first attracted my attention would not
write at all. Its only use was to make a noise when
a prospective client came in sight. It was perhaps
the first propounder in Nairobi of the modern busi-
ness principle that nothing succeeds like success and
it propounded no less diligently because Tarlton had
not yet discovered what his post-war profession was
to be. Two or three weeks after our first meeting,
when I came in from the plains, my safari laden with
collections to be packed in brine, Tarlton was much
on the job, observing the process and assisting when-
ever he saw an opportunity. Finally he asked why

150 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

he could not learn to do such work for me. His
proposal was that he act as my agent, sending food
and other supplies to us in the field as they were
required and thus obviating the necessity of my com-
ing in whenever a consignment of skins was made.
As time is precious in the field and one does not often
happen upon a helper of such ingenuity and diligence,
we soon came to terms. Newland, Tarlton, and
Company had acquired their first safari client. Later
on we provided poison tanks and the other para-
phernalia necessary in caring for trophies before they
can be shipped. Since that time, Newland and
Tarlton have prepared skins and packed and shipped
them for innumerable safaris.

When in 1911 black-water fever so nearly got me,
Tarlton was also thought to be dying in the Nairobi
hospital, but he, too, surprised his friends by his un-
willingness to conform to their expectations, and,
while we were both convalescing, invited me to his
house to stay. Those weeks in Nairobi were a great
time for reminiscence. Tarlton told me a story
every morning before breakfast as he whistled and
chirped about his dressing. And he always ended
with the assertion that some day he was going to
write a book on that particular subject. One morn-
ing he recited an anecdote about Theodore Roosevelt,
adding, ““Some day I am going to write a book on
“Ex-Presidents I Have Known’.”

But the story I recall with the keenest relish re-
counts the adventures of three Boer War veterans.
They had reached the bottom of their luck after the

SAFARI HUNTERS 151

war, and making a pot, went into the Congo to poach
elephants. They had good shooting at first, then no
luck at all. Their supplies were nearly exhausted.
But they took heart one evening when they came
upon elephant signs and carefully laid their plans
for the next day’s hunt. A last pot of jam remained
in their commissariat, and a last pot of jam is treasured
by a man in that country as one saves a last bottle
of champagne. The hunter must have fruit, and
since no wild fruit grows there, in the old days his
supplies included large quantities of preserved fruit
and marmalade. The three adventurers had saved
that last pot of jam to be used to celebrate and they
agreed that the time for celebration had come pro-
vided they brought home ivory on the morrow. Their
plan was that each man should take a different direc-
tion. On his return that night the first hunter’s trail
crossed that of one of his companions. Both had
their ivory and they went into camp together raven-
ously hungry, their appetites whetted by anticipation,
to find that the third fellow had stayed in camp all
day and had eaten the jam alone and unabetted. His
companions saw red. The normal thing in a frontier
country when a man fails to play his part is to kill
him. That was their intention, but they made up
their minds not to be rash about it. They decided to
take the man into the woods some morning and come
back alone. But they thought better—or worse—
of it the next day.

The story ends in Tarlton’s own words:

““Well, ladies and gentlemen, my next book will

152 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA
be entitled ‘Murdered from Marmalade,’ or ‘The Jam

that Jerked him to Jesus’.”

Tarlton was the best game shot I have ever known.
We had gone out together on one occasion to get
meat for dinner when we sighted a Thompson’s ga-
zelle at a distance of 225 yards.

“Let me try my new Rigby on Tommie,” Tarlton
said, as he drew a bead on the centre of the gazelle’s
chest. When we reached the antelope and found the
bullet one inch below where he expected it, he re-
marked that he had suspected that his rifle was not
accurately sighted. This was no conceit on his part.
He expected to place his bullet exactly where he
wished and if his gun was accurately sighted he rarely
missed.

Tarlton’s first lion was shot about this time. The
lion had charged his friend and with his front paws
on the man’s shoulder, and his mouth open, was
reaching for the man’s head when Tarlton pulled
the trigger fifty yards away. The friend escaped
without a scratch.

In the conduct of his business in Nairobi, Tarlton
must have come in contact with all sorts of men, for
there are sportsmen and so-called sportsmen of all
shades and degrees. ‘There is the man who goes over
keen to get a representative head of every species of
game animal. No one can take exception to him
while there is plenty of game left. On the other
hand, there is the man who hunts for record heads
and with him I have little patience. One man came
into camp in Somaliland who, although he never shot

SAFARI HUNTERS 153

unless he believed his prey to be unusual, had killed
seventy-five aoul or Soemmerring’s gazelle before he
got the record. Another class of sportsmen is made
up of men who seem to think that the end to be at-
tained is to kill all the law will allow them. I have
seen a great many of this type. Having paid for a
license which allows them to kill a given number of
animals of each species, they are never content until
they have killed the full number regardless of their
needs, the size of the horns, or anything else. In
the same class with the man who kills to his limit is
the man who has made careful preparation for a hunt
in Africa and who goes there determined to kill every
available species within three months. One I know
told his agents that he would pay them for the full
time if they would so arrange it that he could get his
game in three weeks. His idea is to kill and get out
of Africa. He has none of that appreciation of
Africa’s charm and of that real interest in its animals
which create in the true sportsman the desire to re-
main as long as possible.

There are many professional hunters in British
East Africa, but perhaps R. J. Cuninghame is the
most notable of the type. I met him first in 1906. I
wanted elephants, and everyone at Nairobi agreed
that he was the best elephant hunter. So I went to
him and asked him to teach me to hunt elephants.
We had some trouble in arranging the terms because
he did not want any remuneration for helping an ex-
pedition bent on scientific collection. I couldn’t ac-
cept his time gratis but have always appreciated

154 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

this offer. Coming from a Scotchman it was quite
unexpected, but it was typical of Cuninghame’s
generosity and indicative of his interest in scientific
work.

He taught me as much as one man can learn from
another about the game of hunting elephants. There
are some things which one can learn only through
experience, and in elephant hunting most of the
essentials must be learned in that way. It is easy and
natural to assume that these huge beasts will always
be too obvious for the unexpected to happen. But
in spite of their size they are not always easy to see,
for in their own country elephants are the colour of
the shadows and on occasion quite as silent. In a
forest or rock environment one may almost literally
run on to an elephant before being aware of its pres-
ence. The fact that Cuninghame spent so many
years hunting the great game of Africa without ever
being mauled is evidence of his skill.

We went together to the Aberdare and killed one
elephant—the single tusker now in the group in the
Field Museum in Chicago. Then we went down to
the government station at Fort Hall and got permis-
sion to go up on Mt. Kenia for further elephant
shooting. We spent six weeks on the slopes of the
mountain, I as an amateur under Cuninghame’s
tutelage. And he was a real elephant hunter. He
had killed many elephants, and his long experience
had given him a great deal of that knowledge about
elephants which would enable him to kill them with-
out himself being killed. On the other hand, Cun-

SAFARI HUNTERS 155

inghame hunted elephants for ivory, and when a man
approaches a herd looking for ivory, he is not likely
to see much excepting tusks. It is natural, therefore,
that from the ivory hunters we learn comparatively
little of the more intimate things that we should like
to know about the every-day life of the elephant.
The world has no record of the knowledge of wild life
that their experience should have given the ivory
hunters.

It is for this reason that the camera hunters appeal
to me as being so much more useful than the gun
hunters. They have their pictures to show—still
pictures and moving pictures—and when their game
is over the animals are still alive to play another day.
Moreover, according to any true conception of sport
—the use of skill, daring, and endurance in overcom-
ing difficulties—camera hunting takes twice the man
that gun hunting takes. It is fortunate for the ani-
mals that camera hunting is becoming popular.

The first notable camera hunter in Africa was
Edward North Buxton, whose book, “‘Two African
Trips,’ was published in 1902. In the preface to
this book Buxton writes that “it would better be
described as a picture-book than a volume of travels.”
This book paved the way for another in 1905, “‘ With
Flashlight and Rifle,” by C. G. Schillings. Consider-
ing the state of photography at that time, Schillings’
book is a truly remarkable record of wild animal life.
In 1910, A. Radclyffe Dugmore brought out his book,
“Camera Adventures in the African Wilds.” In it
are several pictures of lions taken by flashlight at night

156 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

from a blind that are photographically as good as
are ever likely to be taken.

Then came the first of the moving-picture hunters.
The first success was the film called “The Water
Hole” taken by Mr. Lydford, who was tempora-
rily the photographer of Paul Rainey’s expedition.
Although it is not photographically as good as some
of the later ones, it was a remarkable achievement,
as all who saw it will testify, especially when they
realize that this was Mr. Lydford’s first experience in
making motion pictures and that his equipment was
not as good as equipment is now. The film had a
deservedly popular run. Like all such films it was
arranged for public exhibition by piecing together
parts taken on different occasions, so that the au-
dience gets in one crowded hour the fruits of weeks
and months of painstaking effort.

The next successful moving picture that I know
of was taken on the expedition of Lady Grace Mc-
Kenzie. It has in it the very remarkable piece of
film showing a charging lion. The lion almost got
the operator and ended the picture but fortunately
both escaped. This reel has never been extensively
shown.

After this came a film made by James Barnes and
Cherry Kerton which was shown with a lecture and
not, as was Rainey’s, by itself. That was nearly the
whole roll call until 1922 when two men came back
with films. The first to reach New York was a film
made by H. A. Snow. It was shown at the Lyric
Theatre and had a great success for which I am person-

SAFARI HUNTERS 157

ally sorry. I look upon it with more disapproval than
I can well state, for I think that many of the titles
on the pictures are misleading and that some of the
pictures fall into the same category. All naturalists
welcome the spread of animal lore by motion pictures
so that a knowledge of true natural history may be-
come more general, and there is no better way to
disseminate such information. But if in order to
make a film a more hair-raising and popular picture,
_ the moving-picture producer puts misleading titles
on the pictures and resorts to “fake” photography,
the harm they can do is just as great as the good
they would otherwise effect.

While most of us who are interested in true nature
photography were feeling somewhat blue about Mr.
Snow’s pictures, Martin Johnson came back to New
York. Ue yame in to see me and I asked him what
he was going to do about his titles. He was prompt
and positive. He was quite willing to submit them
all to the American Museum of Natural History.
That was a big decision, for the Museum would not
agree to the kind of titles which it was likely the
moving-picture business might desire. This might
militate heavily against his chance of selling the pic-
ture, and in Johnson’s case selling the picture was a
necessity, for all he had in the world and more besides
was invested init. But he stuck to his decision when
the pressure came and his film goes forth, the first ever
endorsed by the American Museum of Natural His-
tory, a credit to him and to the company distributing
it. I feel that this is a great step. With this prec-

158 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

edent I believe we have begun a new era in dissemi-
nating natural history through motion pictures—a
step in which we can count on the assistance of Mr.
Will H. Hays, the president of the Motion Picture
Producers and Distributors of America.

But I must return to the gun hunters, for I have not
mentioned the truest sportsman of them all—
Theodore Roosevelt.

I first met Theodore Roosevelt on my return from
Africa in 1906. Previously, on his visit to Chicago
as Vice-President, soon after I had finished the deer
groups for the Field Museum of Natural History,
he called at the Museum and was so interested in the
groups that he asked to see me, but unfortunately
I was not there. From that time on he was interested
in my endeavours and, learning that I was on my way
out of Africa, had asked Congressman Mann to bring
me to Washington. Congressman Mann’s invita-
tion was waiting for me when I reached New York.

At a dinner at the White House during that visit
the Roosevelt African expedition was inaugurated.
Among the other guests was a gentleman from Alaska
who had been describing the hunting in that region
and, as we were entering the dining room, the Presi-
dent remarked:

““As soon as I am through with this job, I am going
to Alaska for a good hunt.”

I shall never forget that dinner at the White House.
I sat through course after course and did not eat a
bite, for the President kept me busy telling stories of
Africa. There was no time to exhaust my supply,

SAFARI HUNTERS 159

but I believe I said quite enough, for as we were leav-
ing the dining room, the President turned to me and
said:

“As soon as I am through with this job, I am going
povAfrica.”’

“But,” interposed the hunter from the north,
“what is to become of Alaska?”

“Alaska will have to wait,” Roosevelt replied with
finality. Plans for the Roosevelt African expedition
_ went forward at once and I had something to do with
their arrangement.

At this dinner at the White House I retold to the
President the story of the sixteen lions coming out of
the cave on MacMillan’s estate. The President,
who had been very frank in his comments about all
things, was having difficulties with the Senate at the
time. When I had finished the story, he addressed
Congressman Mann who sat beside him at the table,

“Congressman,” he said, “I wish I had those six-
teen lions to turn loose in the Senate.”

Congressman Mann stammered and stumbled a
bit, but finally drew himself together to reply.

““B—but, Mr. President, aren’t—aren’t you afraid
the lions might make a mistake?”

“Not if they stayed long enough,” was Roosevelt’s
rejoinder.

So he really invented the idea which they turned
on him later. When his administration was over and
he finally started for Africa, the cry of the Senate
crowd was, “America expects every lion to do his
duty.” A cartoon of the day that I particularly

160 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

remember showed a contented lion sitting up on his
haunches with drawn and bulging stomach. Be-
neath, the caption read, “He was a good President.”

I was planning an expedition to collect materials
for an elephant group in behalf of the American Mu-
seum of Natural Histery about the time that Roose-
velt was arranging for his African hunt, and it was a
fancy of mine that he should shoot at least one of the
elephants for my group. Upon my request that he
should do so, we planned to meet in Africa, but as I
was delayed in getting over, it was only by chance
that his safari and mine met on the Uasin Gishu
Plateau.

One day while on the march I sighted a safari. I
was aware that the Roosevelt outfit had gone into
that region, but I assumed that he had already left
there for Uganda. Nevertheless, while we made
camp on the banks of the river, I sent a runner to see
if it could be the Roosevelt safari. My runner met
a runner from the other outfit and returned with a
message from Roosevelt himself which said that if
we were Akeley’s party he would go into camp at a
near-by swamp. I mounted my pony and went to
meet him as he approached on horseback accom-
panied by his son, Kermit, Edmund Heller, and their
guide, Tarlton. We all went back to our camp for
luncheon, where I gave Roosevelt a bottle of very
choice brandy, a present from Mr. Oscar Strauss,
Mr. Strauss had been one of our steamer companions
across the Atlantic and, learning that I was likely to
meet Roosevelt, he asked me to take this choice

SAFARI HUNTERS 161

brandy to him in the jungles. Roosevelt accepted it
with much interest in the accompanying message but
apparently with mighty little interest in the brandy.
He passed the bottle on to Cuninghame and I felt cer-
tain it would eventually meet with just appreciation.

We went over to Roosevelt’s camp for the night,
thoroughly pleased that the hunt we had looked
forward to together, but had been forced to abandon,
was to take place after all. We intended to get an
early start the next morning, for Roosevelt had seen
one herd of elephants that day. We started with
Tarlton leading. Suddenly he slipped off his horse
and directed that we swing down side to get off wind.
In a clearing just ahead of us were our elephants, a
band of eight cows and calves, enjoying their midday
siesta and milling about under the trees. We stood
hidden by a great ant-hill while I picked out a cow I
thought would do for my group and pointed her out
to Roosevelt. Of course, I assumed that he would
shoot her from behind the ant-hill, well out of sight
and protected. Instead he went around the hill and
started straight toward the elephants, Kermit and
I following one on either side and in back of him.
I had an impulse to climb on Roosevelt’s shoulder
and whisper that I wanted him to shoot her, not to
take her alive. But Roosevelt’s theory of meeting
trouble was to meet it halfway and he got just about
halfway when the old cow started across the open
space. Then the other seven headed toward us.
Roosevelt shot. The elephant I had selected went
part way down and got up again. On they came.

162 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

He shot again and got her. However, there were
three dead elephants instead of one when we stopped
them, for Kermit and I had to shoot, too, to head off
the others. The rule in elephant hunting is to get as
close as you can before shooting, and in whatever
Roosevelt was doing he came out in the open and went
straight to the point.

Kermit’s baby elephant, now mounted in the group,
was taken that day, also. After we had turned them,
I saw a calf I wanted, asked Kermit to shoot him,
and he did so.

While Tarlton and Kermit returned for the camp
equipment and the supplies required in caring for
the elephants, Colonel Roosevelt and I sat together
resting in the shade of an acacia. We were alone in
the heart of Africa and he talked to me of his wife
and children at home. He had not seen any one from
the United States, excepting the members of his own
party, for a good many months, while I was fresh from
the States, fresh from Oyster Bay. In those three
hours I got a new vision and a new view of Theodore
Roosevelt. It was then that I learned to love him.
It was then that I realized that I could follow him
anywhere; even if I doubted, I would follow him be-
cause I knew his sincerity, his integrity, and the big-
ness of the man. Since his death those qualities that
I caught a glimpse of in Africa under the acacia tree
—those qualities that made Theodore Roosevelt
what he was—I have seen more fully and completely
as they are reflected in his children and his children’s
children.

SAFARI HUNTERS 163

Our remaining days together were comparatively
uneventful. A grass fire, fortunately not one of the
most persistent, came down upon our camp that
night and all hands fell to and fought it. Lions roared
about our camp all night, too. At daybreak the
Colonel and I went out in our pyjamas, hoping to find
them. We saw no lions, but on our return, as we ap-
proached the carcass of one of our elephants, a hyena
stuck his head up on the other side. The Colonel fired
but the shot was unnecessary. The hyena was trapped.
In his greediness, he had rammed his head through
a wall of muscle in the elephant’s stomach and could
not get it out. The hair was worn thin on his neck
by his efforts to escape, but he was literally tied up
in the thing he loved best.

A day or two later Roosevelt went on to Uganda
and down the Nile.

CHAPTER 1X
INVENTIONS AND WARFARE

OON after my return from my 1905 trip to
Africa I got my attention turned away from
taxidermy for a little while in a curious fash-

ion. The Field Museum was still in the old Colum-
bian Exposition Building in which it had started.
The outside of this stucco building kept peeling so
that it had a very disreputable appearance. The
Park Department protested to the museum authori-
ties. I happened to be in the museum one day when
one of the officers had this on his mind and he said:

“Akeley, how are we going to get the outside of this
building respectable at a reasonable cost?”

I got to thinking about it. In the many experi.
ments of one kind and another that I had tried in
working out methods for manikin making I had
among other things used a compressed air spray. It
occurred to me that it would be possible to make an
apparatus on this principle that would spray a very
liquid concrete on to the side of a building. I set to
work and rigged up a somewhat crude apparatus and
set it up outside the museum building. It was not
a finished piece of mechanism and it had the further
disadvantage of having its compressed air come quite
a long way in a hose. Nevertheless it worked, and

164

INVENTIONS AND WARFARE 165

the old building was repaired with this apparatus.
The Field Museum never used the cement gun any
more but some friends came along and offered to
put money enough behind the idea to perfect, manu-
facture, and sell it. As with all such things the first
money went and then a second like amount, but in
the end the cement gun succeeded, and during the
war it, among other things, was used to make the con-
crete ships. This occupied most of my time between
1907 and 190g. In fact, I drove the first motorized
cement gun down to the house of its chief financial
backer on Long Island in 1909, and went back to
New York to go again to Africa.

As I am no longer financially interested in the ce-
ment gun, I may say with pride that there are now
approximately 1,250 machines in use, not only in the
United States, but also in the principal foreign coun-
tries. In addition to the use for which it was origi-
nally designed, that of restoring masonry and con-
crete structures, many other important purposes are
now served by this mechanism. In coal mines it is
being used to keep slate roofs from falling and to
fireproof the timbers. Irrigation ditches and reser-
voirs are being lined and dams are being faced and
protected against the destructive action of water
and frost by this method. In tunnel construction,
a lining put in with the cement gun prevents falls
and insures an absolute sealing. It protects steel,
protects piles against teredo and fire, protects struc-
tures against acid, restores boiler settings and pre-
serves them from further action of the heat, rebuilds

166 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

baffle walls, makes economical floor and roof slabs,
and is being used extensively in putting up walls of
buildings that are permanent and fireproof.

My next trip to Africa in 1909 also served to de-
velop another activity besides taxidermy. One of
the principal objects of this trip was to get moving
pictures of the Nandi spearing lions. However, I
found that you can’t stage a native lion hunt with
any certainty, for neither the lion nor the native,
once the action begins, pays any attention to the
movie director. In order to have even a fair chance
of following the action with a camera you need one
that you can aim up, down, or in any direction with
about the same ease that you can point a pistol.
There were no movie cameras like this, and after fail-
ing to get pictures of several lions I determined not
to go to Africa again until I had one.

When I got home I set to work on the problem and
after much experimentation completed a working
model that bore no likeness to the conventional mo-
tion-picture apparatus. To one familiar with the old
types of camera the Akeley resembled a machine
gun quite as much as it resembled acamera. During
the war I used to say that the boys who operated it
would be well protected and Photop/ay in January,
1919, related a story of the American advance in
France which bore out my opinion. While setting
up the machine to make some shots in a still-burning
and newly occupied village, a young lieutenant was
confronted suddenly by seven Germans. Mistaking
his formidable film apparatus for a new type cf Yan-

INVENTIONS AND WARFARE 167

kee machine gun, they threw up their hands and sur-
rendered. The story is probably all the better be-
cause its truth is doubtful.

Since its perfection the Akeley camera has been
carried into many of the far-away corners of the globe
by museum expeditions and explorers. The Katmai
Expedition of the National Geographic Society, the
Mulford Biological Expedition to the Amazon Basin,
the Third Asiatic Expedition of the American Museum
of Natural History, the MacMillan Arctic Associa-
tion, and the British Guiana Tropical Research Sta-
tion at Kartabo under the direction of William Beebe,,
are some of those which have been equipped with
Akeleys. In taking “‘Nanook of the North,” the
picture made for popular distribution by the Revillon
Fréres Arctic Expedition, Mr. Flaherty used two of
my cameras. Martin Johnson, whose motion pic-
tures of the South Sea Islands and of Africa have
won him renown as a “‘camera hunter,” is planning
to include three in the equipment for his next African
expedition. To a degree at least, the camera is ac-
complishing the purpose for which it was designed.

While I had little idea at first that this camera would
fill any other needs than my own, as it has been per-
fected it has proved its practicability for general use.
The fundamental difference between the Akeley
motion-picture camera and the others is a panoramic
device which enables one to swing it all about, much
as one would swing a swivel gun, following the natural
line of vision. Thus instead of having to manipulate
two cranks with the left hand, one to tilt the camera

168 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

and the other to move it horizontally, the operator by
means of a single control secures a steady movement
which may be vertical, horizontal, or diagonal, and
which enables him to keep a moving object always in
the centre of the field. This flexibility especially
adapts the camera not only for wild animal photog-
raphy, but also for studio work, where an erratic
follow-up is to be accomplished, and for news reel
photography. It was this advantage, combined with
another special qualification, the freer use of the
telephoto lens—which brings a distant object into
the foreground on the screen—which made possible
a successful picture of the Man-o’-War race and the
Dempsey-Carpentier prize fight. Anthropologists
have found the telephoto lens useful in making motion
pictures of natives of uncivilized countries without
their knowledge. Because of the difficulty of secur-
ing the proper lighting in the woods, I had paid
particular attention to the shutter so that as perfected
the shutter admits thirty per cent. more light than
the usual camera shutter. This characteristic also
has commended the camera to general use. In out-
of-door photogr#phy on a dark day as well as in the
studio, where the lighting is one of the greatest items
of expense, its advantage is obvious. Tom Mix and
Douglas Fairbanks are both making extensive use
of the camera now and a recent feature directed by
Lawrence Trimble was made with it.

I was working on the camera, modelling a little and
mounting the elephant group, when the war came on
us. That meant a call for every man’s energy and

INVENTIONS AND WARFARE 169

brains. I was keen to do something, but there popped
into my head an old unfortunate phrase that had long
held lodgment there. ‘‘Nothing but a taxidermist.”
That was the sentiment of an editorial published in
the Youth’s Companion, a magazine which was almost
my Bible, some fifty years ago. As a youngster I
always had to combat the feeling that taxidermy was
of no importance, both on my own part, when I was
not completely lost in the joy of my work, and also
on the part of those about me. But, inasmuch as it
had been the advertisements of books on taxidermy
in the Companion that had given me my first encour-
agement, I felt a particular resentment toward a
magazine which would so betray its advertisers and
its readers.

My conviction that museum exhibition is playing
an important part in modern education has long since
satisfied me that the work which I have chosen as
mine is worth while, but all through my experiences
at Ward’s and in Milwaukee the doubt persisted.
Was I not wasting my life on something that did not
count? And, needless to say, my own doubt was
deepened by the indifference of oth€rs.

With the war came the cessation of all normal life.
An occupation popularly considered as unessential as
mine ought to stop among the first. Anyway, I had
to get intoit. The only way to be happy was to get
into it, but there was something rather ridiculous
about the idea that an African naturalist and a “good-
for-nothing taxidermist” could be of much service
‘n wartime. At first it did not strike me—or any one

170 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

else, for that matter—that the principles I had worked
out for taxidermy, for the cement gun, and for the
camera might be applied to the mechanical devices
of warfare.

But work began with an order from the Govern-
ment for a lot of Akeley cameras. A call from the
Signal Corps of the War Department asking me to
bring them down took me to Washington shortly after
war was declared, with the result that I accepted a
contract whereby the entire output of the camera shop
was turned over to the United States Government.

Soon after I became a Specialist on Mechanical
Devices and Optical Equipment in the Division of
Investigation, Research, and Development of the
Engineer Corps. My chief was Major O. B. Zimmer-
man, who thirty years before had been my student in
Milwaukee. He had wanted to become a taxidermist,
but in those days taxidermy seemed a mighty poor
game and J did my best to dissuade him from any
such mad career. His wisdom in following my ad-
vice is proved by the fact that when the war broke
out he was in Belgium as one of the leading engineers
for the International Harvester Company. I had a
desk in Major Zimmerman’s office, but my actual
work was done in the camera shop in New York, in
the American Museum of Natural History, and in
various laboratories. At least once each week I rode
back and forth from Washington to New York. My
duties were those of a consulting engineer, but they
were much varied, for we had several things under
way all the time. Wherever a problem, mechanical

INVENTIONS AND WARFARE 171

or otherwise, arose, I went to look things over, and
if I had any suggestions to make, I was assigned to
that job. I spent several weeks at Brunswick,
Georgia, where concrete ships were under construction
and where my experiments with the cement gun
served me in good stead. The fact that the concrete
ships were not successful was not the fault of the con-
crete gun. It did its part.

After devoting a good deal of thought to search-
lights and searchlight mirrors, I helped in lightening
the apparatus materially and developed a device for
searchlight control. This control, which involves
the same rotary principle as my motion-picture
camera, enables the operator standing at the end of
an arm to direct the rays of the light toward any ob-
ject in the sky and to keep it in view by following
up its movements with the light. It is one of several
devices developed at that time which have since
been patented by the Government in my name.

Roosevelt once asked me why I declined to wear the
major’s uniform offered to me. ‘Well, Colonel
Roosevelt,” I replied unhesitatingly, for I had my
good reason for so doing, “if I were wearing a uniform,
I could not go to my colonel and tell him he was a
damn fool.”

Roosevelt laughed heartily.

“You are quite right,” he replied. ‘Stick to it!”

As a civilian I went about wherever work was going
on, talked freely with the workmen, heard them dis-
cuss their mechanical difficulties, and got from them
their ideas for improvements. As a civilian I was

172 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

also free to carry those ideas wherever they could do
the most good. If I had had to comply with the red
tape of army officialdom, not only would my own
work have been handicapped, but also the ideas and
troubles of the private actually handling the machine
might never have gone past his sergeant. When the
armistice was signed, I was planning to go overseas to
observe the difficulties that the men were having at
the front, so that I narrowly escaped the khaki.
Whatever my services may or may not have con-
tributed to the defeat of the Germans, at least I have
escaped the accusation directed toward many a dollar-
a-year man of being overpaid. The usual dollar-a-
year man, though the dollar was never paid him, re-
ceived his expenses, while my contract called for
a salary of ten dollars per day without expense
money. My original agreement was to include ex-
penses, but some slip was made which always seemed
too dificult to correct. This arrangement made my,
loss even greater than that of those men who re-
ceived the fabulous amount prescribed by law, for
needless to say my weekly stipend was inadequate
to cover the one item of railway fare. Still one had
to serve to be happy in those days, no matter what
the cost. Inasmuch as the Akeley camera also lost
heavily on war contracts, I have had the additional
satisfaction of escaping governmental investigation
on the score of excess profits. After it was all over, I
ungrudgingly paid the normal tax on the money I had
lost, and I would not swap those months with the
Government for anything else in my experience.

INVENTIONS AND WARFARE 173

Since the war, with the intermission of my trip
to Africa for gorillas in 1921, I have stuck to my
sculpture and taxidermy except for various lecture
trips.

A man who is fortunate enough to have witnessed
the beauties of the African forests and who has come
to know the forest’s inhabitants and their ways, is
almost sure to be called upon to share his good for-
tune with others, and I have done a good deal of
lecturing. My first lectures were to be given at Ful-
lerton Hall in Chicago for the Field Museum shortly
after my return from Africa in1go6. Fortunately, I
had occasion to deliver a lecture in South Chicago
a few days before my first museum lecture was sched-
uled. Otherwise, I probably would have dropped
dead when I faced the Fullerton Hall audience. I
think the thing that saved me from running then
was the fact that I had a small audience behind a
screen at the rear of the platform and knew that it
blocked my escape.

I had tried to prepare a lecture, had realized that
that was impossible, and had finally decided to show
my audience the pictures and make whatever com-
ments they brought to mind. Then, when I got on
the platform without the vaguest idea of what I was
going to say first, it suddenly occurred to me that I
was no worse frightened than I had been one day on
the banks of the Tana when I suddenly found myself,
with nothing but a camera in my hand, charged
by a rhinoceros. Apparently I had no escape except
a thirty-foot drop into the crocodile-infested waters

174 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

of the Tana below. But the rhino stopped ten or
fifteen feet from me, gazed at me stupidly, and settled
down with the apparent intention of going to sleep.
I took hope when the thought crossed my mind that
this new terror might settle down with the same in-
tention as the old rhino, leaving me to my own re-
sources quite unharmed. So I told my audience the
story of the rhino, the ice was broken, and I fear I
nearly talked them to death before the lecture ended.

Since that time I have talked far and wide. I hope
I have given some pleasure and entertainment to the
good people who have listened. I hope also that I
have created in the minds of my hearers a background
that will help the art of taxidermy and its practition-
ers in the future. More especially I hope that I have
contributed something to the study of natural his-
tory and that I have stimulated a decent attitude
toward wild life.

CHAPTER.

A TAXIDERMIST AS A SCULPTOR
FTER I had got over my first youthful en-
A thusiasm about taxidermy and had seen how
it was practiced, I recognized that, as it then
was, it was not an art—that it was in fact little better
than a trade. I had moments when I felt like aban-
doning the whole thing. I used to study sculpture,
particularly animal sculpture, in relation to taxi-
dermy. I remember that when I was twenty-eight
years old I came to New York and spent hours at
the Metropolitan Museum of Art with the itch in my
hands and brain to become a sculptor. But one thing
restrained me. I had enough common sense to know
that while I might become a sculptor and even a
fairly successful one I could never contribute to that
art what I could contribute to taxidermy. I believed
then that I could start taxidermy on the road from a
trade to an art. So I turned away from sculpture.
Nevertheless, the idea of being a sculptor kept run-
ning in my mind. And whenever it did, it depressed
me. Finally, I gave up going near the Art Museum
altogether.

But the discipline that I inflicted on myself I could
not inflict on other people. I had to make little clay
groups as studies and models for the animal groups

175

176 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

that I was mounting. Many people who saw these
clay models would suggest that I have them cast in
bronze. If I had not still had the fever of sculpturing
in my blood, these remarks would not have stuck in
my mind, but as it was they did. So this idea be-
came familiar to me.

However, it was a good many years after it first
became a regular inhabitant of my mind that I put
it in practice, for along with it had grown up the no-
tion that I should not merely turn models into bronzes
but that I would wait until I had a real contribution.
Real contributions did not seem abundant and so year
after year went by with no bronzes made.

Then in 1912 a situation arose which I thought
forced sculpture upon me. I had a dream of a great
African Hall of forty groups of animals with all the
ingenuity, all the technique, and all the art the
country could boast of. By that time I had come to
feel that taxidermy could be a great art. I felt that
a beautifully modelled animal required at least as
much knowledge, taste, skill, and technique as a
bronze or storie animal. But I knew that this con-
ception was not common. A taxidermist couldn’t
talk art. Especially he couldn’t talk art convincingly
to the kind of men who supported great museum
ventures. It was a recognized thing to support art.
Taxidermy had no such tradition. The only way out
of the dilemma that I could see was to prove that
whether or not taxidermy was an art at least a taxi-
dermist could be an artist.

It was my desire to make an appeal to those men

A TAXIDERMIST AS A SCULPTOR 177

who support art financially that stimulated my first
work in bronze. I felt that we might expect the aid
of these men in such undertakings as the African Hall
if I could once get them to see the artistic possibilities
of taxidermy. The American Museum of Natural
History already had friends who were interested in
art, but it had not occurred to them that the Mu-
seum’s animal groups had any relation to sculpture
because these groups had not been presented in the
accepted materials of sculpture such as stone and
bronze. Through the medium of bronze I hoped to
lead them to see in the taxidermist’s productions
something worthy of their support as patrons of art.

So I set to work to do a bronze that would prove
that a taxidermist could be an artist. Years before I
had heard the story of an elephant bull wounded by
hunters, whose two comrades had ranged themselves
one on either side and helped him to escape. I
have told the story in detail elsewhere. It always ap-
pealed to me as showing a spirit in the elephant that
I should like to record. I set to work on The
Wounded Comrade. It was a part of the story of the
elephant, a theme that always aroused enthusiasm
inme. And I felt it was a labour of love for African
Hall. It was pleasant work. It went well. The
thing seemed to take shape naturally. It was soon
finished. Then came its test.

Mr. J. P. Morgan came to the Museum to talk
over African Hall. I explained the whole plan,
showed him the model of the hall and incidentally
The Wounded Comrade. He liked the scheme. As

178 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

he left he said that he was convinced. “And,” he
added, ‘“‘I don’t mind saying,” pointing to the little
bronze of The Wounded Comrade, “that it is what
did it.” I shall always be indebted to Mr. Morgan
for that sentence. It gave me an extraordinary
amount of contentment. A. Phimister Proctor, the
animal sculptor, also came to see The Wounded
Comrade in my studio. He spent a long time in
silence, carefully studying the little model. I knew
that Mr. Proctor never gave praise lightly, but
that he never hesitated to express admiration when
in his opinion the work had merit. I felt that much
depended on his praise or blame. And when he
finally spoke, his enthusiasm was keen. I did not
realize how keen until an order came for a bronze of
The Wounded Comrade from Mr. George Pratt, a
friend of Mr. Proctor, whose only impression of the
piece was gained from Mr. Proctor’s description.
Throughout my career as a sculptor nothing has
meant so much to me as the encouragement and
appreciation of the man who first declared The
Wounded Comrade a success.

In recognition of this first bronze, I was made a
member of the American Sculpture Society. Inas-
much as such a cordial reception was accorded to The
Wounded Comrade by artists as well as by the gen-
eral public, I felt justified in devoting more attention
to sculpture. I felt that I had many stories to tell
about elephants and that I could tell these stories
more effectively by the work of my hands than in
any other way. One chapter is told in the group of

A TAXIDERMIST AS A SCULPTOR 179

mounted elephants now in the American Museum of
Natural History. Many others can be told in small
bronzes. I want to tell these stories, and in the time
I have on earth I could not record many elephant
stories in taxidermy, for one group really done well
takes years—but I can tell these stories in bronze. »

After The Wounded Comrade had made a success,
many of my friends came to my studio (where I did
taxidermy) in the Museum and advised me to keep on
making bronzes. ‘‘Here’s your opportunity,” they
said. ‘‘You have a market. Fortune favours you.
Don’t neglect the fickle lady.”

But I did not follow this advice and make many
bronzes. It may have been because I was lazy or
busy with other things, but I like to think that it
was because I had decided not to make bronzes
unless I had a real story to tell. I wanted to do
justice if I could to my friend, the elephant. And,
also, I wanted to do what I did well enough to prove
that a taxidermist could be, as he ought to be, an
artist.

So I progressed with sculpture very slowly. In
the nine years since The Wounded Comrade was made
I have made only six bronzes.

In my second piece I have pictured a scene that will
always remain very vivid in my memory—a charging
herd. I had been following a large herd of elephants,
two hundred or more, in the Budongo Forest for two
days. They had broken up into small bands and
the particular band which I was following had got
near the edge of the forest. Nevertheless, I was

180 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

having a hard time to get a look at them. Finally, I
had recourse to the somewhat hazardous experiment
of beating on the tree trunks with sticks in the hope
of scaring them into the open. This was successful.
I followed them, but the grass was so high that I
couldn’t see over it. I was in the act of climbing a
tree for better observation when they came rolling
along, grunting and squealing, back to the forest.
They passed me within twenty-five yards. They
were irritated sufficiently to convince me that it was
time to let them alone and go to camp. I started
along the edge of the forest. As I was pushing along
through the high grass a few minutes later I heard
another band coming out of the forest. As I couldn’t
see over the grass I ran to an ant-hill. This ant-hill
was six or seven feet high. As I got on top it I saw,
about one hundred yards away, eleven great animals
pass one by one over a little rise. I had as good a
view of this majestic march as a man will ever get.
When they had gone two or three hundred yards, they
suddenly stopped. They had got down wind and
had smelt me. Then they began to talk. There was
grumbling and rumbling. Conversation of this kind
meant trouble. It was an old story to me. And
trouble came. They came back squealing and roar-
ing. I had to wait the first two hundred yards of the
charge without shooting for they were behind the
ridge. Then they loomed up over it, led by an old
cow with her trunk up and her great ears cocked.
As the leader lost the scent and slowed a little, they
jammed into a solid mass. Then the old cow saw me

A TAXIDERMIST AS A SCULPTOR 181

perched on my ant-hill. Changing course, they came
toward me, falling apart as they came.

That picture stays in my memory. And as I saw
it I have put it in bronze. The bronze shows the
first seven elephants of the herd jammed together in
that moment of hesitation just after the old cow saw
me and turned in my direction. Her trunk is curled
up tight, her ears back and all cleared for action.
The elephant on her left is following her example.
The others still have their trunks extended, feeling
for my scent.

The next elephant story that I told in bronze grew
out of another experience of mine. I was following a
herd of elephants in bush country. I was some dis-
tance behind them and they knew nothing of me.
Suddenly I heard a great commotion, squealing and
beating of bushes. A few minutes later the herd
moved on. When I came to the spot where the
commotion had been I found the bushes all trampled
down and, at one side of the area of destruction in
the sand, the remains of a big green tree snake that
had been stamped into the ground. I followed af-
ter the herd but was soon deflected from the main
body by noises in a little glade off at one side of the
main trail. I went to the edge of this glade and saw
a young bull elephant smashing about in the forest
alone, breaking down trees, squealing, and in general
acting like a small boy who had been stung on the
nose by ahornet. After a while he quieted down and
went along after the others, grumbling and protesting.
I came to the conclusion that while feeding in the

182 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

bushes he had thrust his trunk too close to a poisonous
tree snake and had been stung; that he had beaten
the snake on to the ground with his trunk and stamped
it todeath. In the bronze I pictured the snake alive
on the ground and the elephant in the act of tram-
pling it to death.

In addition to these elephant bronzes I have done
one other bronze of a combat between a lion and a
buffalo, and I have two other elephant subjects
started inclay. Ihave never seen a lion and a buffalo
fight nor do I know of any one else who has. But I
know at least two authentic records of the dead bodies
of a lion and a buffalo together—mute evidence of a
fight to a finish and death to both. And I have seen
dead buffalo carcasses from which one could tell
pretty well how the lion had killed his prey. The
lion tries to throw the buffalo in much the same
manner as a cowboy “bulldogs” a steer—that is, he
throws him by jerking the buffalo’s head down. In
the bronze I have represented the lion as having
“bulldogged”’ the buffalo by catching his nose with
a front paw and bending his head to the ground in
his effort to throw him. The buffalo has saved him-
self from a fall by bracing himself with one front foot
and the scene is set for a battle royal unless the lion
bolts.

One of the bronzes that will soon be published
records a scene that will always be a pleasant memory,
tome. Iwas watching an elephant herd on the march
through an open grass country. The elders moved
along sedately enough, but at one side of the herd

AW TAXIDERMIST AS A’ SCULPTOR 183

several babies were squealing and pushing each other
—having a fine time at play. Sometimes they were
ahead of the herd and sometimes behind it, but all
the time in a very gay mood. There seemed to be
something that they were playing with, but the grass
was too high and I was too far off to make out what
it was. However, where the trail of the herd finally
went into the forest, I discovered the babies’ play-
thing. It was a big dirt ball about two and one half
_ feet in diameter, a fragment of an ant-hill. These
ant-hills are made of a mixture of saliva and sand
which when baked by the African sun gets almost as
hard as brick. A steel-jacketed bullet will be cut
all to pieces before penetrating the surface of an ant-
hill at all. In some way the baby elephants had got
a fragment of an old ant-hill that was nearly round
and this they had used as a ball to roll along in their
play. It is not so surprising, therefore, that an ele-
phant can be made to do tricks with a ball in the
circus!

I am putting the youngsters and their ball into
bronze for one group.

The other is called At Bay and represents an ele-
phant with trunk up standing at bay with his hind
leg tied to a great log.

One of the native’s methods of hunting elephants
is to dig a pit in an elephant path, cover the pit over
with a “basket”—a kind of trap—put a noose on
top of the “basket,” and camouflage the whole with
grass and leaves. When the trap is set there is no
evidence of anything but a plain and safe path. The

184 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

noose is one end of a twisted rawhide cable, the other
end of which is fastened to a heavy log. If the trap
works, the elephant steps on the “basket” and his leg
goes through. The “‘basket”’ sticks to his leg and
holds the noose until the elephant moves enough to
draw it tight. Then he begins to drag the heavy log
through the forest. He cannot go far or fast and he
leaves an unmistakable trail. He is a high-strung,
nervous creature and when after a few days of trekking
about with his tormenting log the natives come up
with him, he is weak from lack of food and water.
There he stands at bay, as I have pictured him in
bronze. But his defiance is of slight avail, for there
is little to be feared from his charge. It is compara-
tively simple for his enemies to finish him off with
poisoned spears and arrows.

In my bronzes I am telling bit by bit my stories of
African animals. A series of three groups telling the
story of native lion-spearing will be finished by the
time this book is out and will ultimately take its place
in Roosevelt African Hall. In 1911 I got together a
band of Nandi spearmen on the Uasin Gishu Plateau
to hunt lions. I wanted a motion picture of native
lion-spearing, the most dramatic thing Africa has to
offer. In twenty days the Nandi had speared ten
lions and five leopards. My moving pictures were
not very satisfactory but I did get two other very
diverse results from the trip—the determination to
invent a better camera for wild-animal photography,
and the idea for these lion-spearing groups.

The first two groups represent three native spear-

A TAXIDERMIST AS A SCULPTOR 185

men in the act of facing the charge of a lion and lion-
ess, the lioness characteristically leading the charge.
The third group, a sequel to the other two, shows the
three hunters chanting a requiem over the dead lion.

I have done another lion—one that interests me
more than all the others. And this piece of sculpture
came about in this way. When I met President
Roosevelt at the White House on my return from
Africa in 1906, I was impressed with the power and
humanity of the man as all were who knew him. One
of the great experiences of my life was that quiet
talk with Theodore Roosevelt in the shade of the
acacia tree on the Uasin Gishu Plateau when I came
to know the man and to love him. After our return
from Africa, he was constantly reminding me of my
unwritten African book and saying that he wanted
to write a foreword and a chapter for that book. But
I had no such hankering to write as I had to do sculp-
ture, and so | put it off. At last, however, in 1919,
after the war was over, I sat down one day and started
to write him a letter to say that I would begin the
book. I had written the two words, “‘ Dear Colonel,”
when the telephone rang. It was my friend, George
H. Sherwood, the executive secretary of the Museum.

~ Ake,” he said, “I have bad news for you.
Colonel Roosevelt died this morning.”’

For me the bottom dropped out of everything.
From that time until I got back from the funeral I
did nothing. When I returned from the funeral I
was terribly depressed. I had to find expression.
I found it most naturally in modelling. I set to work:

"186 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

onalion. I meant to make it symbolic of Roosevelt,
of his strength, courage, fearlessness—of his kingly
qualities in the old-fashioned sense. And this model-
ling afforded me great comfort and relief. I worked
on it day after day. Taxidermy, groups and bronzes,
were all forgotten. While I was so engaged one day
an old friend of mine, James Brite, an architect, called
me on the telephone. I asked him if he wouldn’t
come up and design a pedestal for the lion. He came
up not only that day but many others. Neither of
us knew just what we were going to do with it when it
was finished. I had a vague idea of casting it, making
one bronze for Mrs. Roosevelt, and destroying the
model.

We were still working when one day Archie Roose-
velt came in. I showed the lion to him.

“None of us want to see statues of Father,” he said.
“They can’t make Father,” and as he put his arms
about the pedestal of the lion, “but this is Father.
Of course, you do not know it, but among ourselves
we boys always called him the ‘Old Lion’ and when
he died I cabled the others in France, ‘The Old Lion
is dead.’”’

Other members of the Roosevelt family and friends
of the Colonel came, and what they said encouraged
us. I made one model after another, trying to blend
the majesty of a real lion with the symbolism. Then
one day when Mr. Brite and I were in the studio a
man came in whom we had never seen before. After
some desultory conversation he asked how large the
lion was to be. We said we didn’t know. “How

A TAXIDERMIST AS A SCULPTOR 187

big ought it to be?” we asked. “It ought to be as
big as possible and it ought to be placed in Washing-
ton,” was his reply.

. Brite pointed out that so large a lion would neces.
sitate a pedestal that would nearly cut him off from
view from the ground. And then developed the idea
of placing the lion in a great bowl.

That was the beginning of a long period of work on
a great plan for a Roosevelt Memorial.

All this was originated without thought of the
Roosevelt Memorial Society which had raised a
million and a half dollars among other things to erect
a monument to Roosevelt. The natural thing to do
was to submit this offering of ours to that society.
We have done this, and it will be judged in competi-
tion with the designs of others. Ifit should be chosen
it will be because no other competitor, though they
all be better sculptors, can possibly have the same
deep desire as I to perpetuate the spirit of Theodore
Roosevelt and to do him all honour.

CHAPTER XI

HUNTING GORILLAS IN CENTRAL AFRICA

specimens for the group of elephants recently

completed in the American Museum of Natural
History in New York. My plan at that time was to
leave the region of snow-capped Mt. Kenia when
I had finished making my elephant studies, and to go
into German East Africa, as it was then, in an en-
deavour to get specimens for a group of gorillas to be
mounted for the Museum. I had obtained the proper
papers from the German authorities, and I had funds
for the purpose. Nevertheless, I had to abandon
the plan at that time because an elephant caught me.
unawares and mauled me sufficiently to prevent my
carrying out my project.

But the gorilla group remained as an interesting
prospect ahead, and I read eagerly any reports which
came to my knowledge of hunters or scientists who
had seen or killed any of these animals. Most
gorillas reported since their original discovery had
been reported from nearer the west coast of Africa
than the region which I had intended to explore for
them, but I had heard of one instance of a gorilla in
German East Africa. The story was of a German
who had tried to catch a grown gorilla in a net. He

188

|: 1910 I was in British East Africa collecting

HUNTING GORILLAS 189

had succeeded in getting the net over the animal and
then the animal had succeeded in tearing his way out
of the net and killing the man. Whether this story
was true or not I do not know. Before I left Africa,
in I91I, I heard that a man named Grauer had gone
into the country where I had intended going and
that he had come out through Nairobi with eight
gorilla skins. Altogether there came to me consider-
able corroboration of my belief that there were goril-
las in the Lake Kivu country of Central Africa, and
my intention to go there and collect the material for
a group remained constant although, through the
period of the war, inactive.

It came to life in 1920. One night I was expound-
ing the beauties of Africa to my friend Mr. H. E.
Bradley when he turned to Mrs. Bradley and said,
‘“‘Let’s take him at his word and spend a year in
Africa.”’ Mrs. Bradley asked what they should do
with their five-year-old daughter. Nothing pleased
me more than to assure them that an expedition to
Central Africa was entirely safe and practicable for
women and children, and so an expedition was agreed
upon. Years before, when she was a child, I had
promised the niece of a friend of mine, Miss Martha
Miller, to take her to Africa. I had never been al-
lowed to forget the promise. Now the time for ful-
fillment had come. So the party was formed of these
two ladies, Bradley, the five-year-old child, Miss Pris-
cilla Hall,and me. Miss Hall had agreed to look af-
ter the youngster while the others hunted. Not long
afterward it was definitely decided that the expedi-

190 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

tion was to be a gorilla expedition. I received a
letter from an Englishman, Mr. C. D. Foster, who had
shot a male and female gorilla and caught a baby in
the country I had in mind. That led us to base our
plans on gorillas alone, and it was a gorilla expedition,
although Miss Miller killed an elephant the first time
she shot at anything in Africa and both she and Mrs.
Bradley killed lions.

To me the gorilla made a much more interesting
quarry than lions, elephants, or any of the other
African game, for the gorilla is still comparatively
little known. Not many people have shot gorillas
and almost none have studied them in their native
habitat. The gorilla is one of the most remarkable
and least known large animals in the world, and
when is added to that the fact that he is the nearest
to man of any other member of the animal kingdom,
a gorilla expedition acquires a tremendous fascina-
tion.

An Englishman named Battell—a captive of the
Portuguese of Angola—in 1590 described an animal
which in all probability was the gorilla. Vague
stories from other sources appeared in travellers’ ac-
counts, but no real description of the gorilla came to
Europe or America until December, 1847, when Dr.
Thomas S. Savage, a missionary, published a paper
in the Boston Yournal of Natural History. Doctor
Savage was detained in April of that year at a mission
on the Gaboon River in West Africa and there made
his discovery. He did not see a live gorilla himself,
but from skulls and information brought him by

HUNTING GORILLAS 191

natives, made a rather remarkable description of the
animals, part of which is as follows:

Its height is above five feet, it is disproportionately broad
across the shoulders, thickly covered with coarse black hair,
which is said to be similar in its arrangement to that of the
Engé-eco (the chimpanzee). With age it becomes gray, which
fact has given rise to the report that both animals are seen of
different colors. :

Their gait is shuffling, the motion of the body, which is never
upright as in man, but bent forward, is somewhat rolling, or
from side to side. The arms being longer than those of the
chimpanzee it does not stoop as much in walking; like that
animal it makes progression by thrusting its arms forward,
resting the hands on the ground and then giving the body a half
jumping, half swinging motion between them. In this act it is
said not to flex the fingers as does the chimpanzee, resting on
the knuckles, but to extend them, thus making a fulcrum of the
hand. When it assumes the walking posture to which it is said
to be much inclined, it balances its huge body by flexing the
arms upward. They live in bands, but are not so numerous as
the chimpanzees; the females generally exceed the other sex in
number. My informants all agree in the assertion that but one
adult male is seen in a band; that when the young males grow
up a contest takes place for mastery, and the strongest, by kill-
ing and driving out the others, establishes himself as the head
of the community. The silly stories about their carrying off
women from the native towns, and vanquishing the elephants,
related by voyagers and widely copied into books, are unhesi-
tatingly denied. They have been averred of the chimpanzee,
but this is still more preposterous. They probably had their
origin in the marvelous accounts given by the natives, of the
Engé-ena, to credulous traders.

Their dwellings, if they may be so called, are similar to those
of the chimpanzee, consisting simply of a few sticks and leafy
branches supported by the crotches and limbs of trees; they
afford no shelter, and are occupied only at night.

They are exceedingly ferocious, and always offensive in their
habits, never running from man as does the chimpanzee. They

192 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

are objects of terror to the natives, and are never encountered
by them except on the defensive. The few that have been
captured were killed by elephant hunters and native traders as
they came suddenly upon them while passing through the forests.

It is said that when the male is first seen he gives a terrific
yell that resounds far and wide through the forest, something
like kh-ah! kh-ah! prolonged and shrill. His enormous jaws
are widely opened at each expiration, his under lip hangs over
the chin, and the hairy ridge and scalp is contracted upon the
brow, presenting an aspect of indescribable ferocity. The
females and young at the first cry quickly disappear; he then
approaches the enemy in great fury, pouring out his horrid cries
in quick succession. The hunter awaits his approach with his
gun extended: if his aim is not sure he permits the animal to
grasp the barrel and as he carries it to his mouth (which is his
habit) he fires; should the gun fail to go off, the barrel (that of
an ordinary musket, which is thin) is crushed between his teeth,
and the encounter soon proves fatal to the hunter.

The killing of an Engé-ena (gorilla) is considered an act of
great skill and courage, and brings the victor signal honor.
A slave to an Mpongwe man, from an interior tribe, killed the
male and female whose bones are the origin of this article. On
one occasion he had succeeded in killing an elephant, and return-
ing home met a male Engé-ena, and being a good marksman he
soon brought him to the ground. He had not proceeded far
before the female was observed, which he also killed. This
act, unheard of before, was considered almost superhuman.
The man’s freedom was immediately granted to him, and his
name proclaimed abroad as the prince of hunters.

Eight years afterward the first white man killed
a gorilla. In 1855 Paul Du Chaillu, a French-
American, went to West Africa after gorillas. To
our party, with the intention of not only shooting
gorillas but of studying them and taking moving pic-
tures of them, the narrative of this intrepid little
hunter had particular fascination.

HUNTING GORILLAS 193

On the day that Du Chaillu saw the first gorilla
ever seen by a white man his black and savage attend-
ants had assuaged a hunger that beset the party by
eating a snake. This was more than Du Chaillu
could do. His account* reads:

When the snake was eaten, and I, the only empty-stomached
individual of the company, had sufficiently reflected on the dis-
advantages of being bred in a Christian country, we began to look
about the ruins of the village near which we sat. A degenerate
kind of sugar-cane was growing on the very spot where the
houses had formerly stood, and I made haste to pluck some of
this and chew it for the little sweetness it had. But, as we
were plucking, my men perceived what instantly threw us all
into the greatest excitement. Here and there the cane was
beaten down, torn up by the roots, and lying about in fragments
which had evidently been chewed.

I knew that these were fresh tracks of the gorilla, and joy
filled my heart. My men looked at each other in silence, and
muttered Nguwy/az, which is as much as to say in Mpongwe,
Nina, or, as we say, gorilla.

We followed these traces, and presently came to the footprints
of the so-long-desired animal. It was the first time I had ever
seen these footprints, and my sensations were indescribable.
Here was I now, it seemed, on the point of meeting face to face
that monster of whose ferocity, strength, and cunning the natives
had told me so much; an animal scarce known to the civilized
world, and which no white man before had hunted. My heart
beat till I feared its loud pulsations would alarm the gorilla,
and my feelings were really excited to a painful degree.

By the tracks it was easy to know that there must have been
several gorillas in company. We prepared at once to follow
them.

The women were terrified, poor things, and we left them a
good escort of two or three men to take care of them and reas-
sure them. Then the rest of us looked once more carefully

*Reprinted through the courtesy of Harper & Bros., publishers of Du-Chaillu’s book,
** Equatorial Africa.”

194 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

at our guns—for the gorilla gives you no time to reload, and woe
to him whom he attacks! We were armed to the teeth. My
men were remarkably silent, for they were going on an expedi-
tion of more than usual risk; for the male gorilla is literally the
king of the African forest. He and the crested lion of Mount
Atlas are the two fiercest and strongest beasts of this continent.
The lion of South Africa cannot compare with either for strength
or courage.

As we left the camp, the men and women left behind crowded
together, with fear written on their faces. Miengai, Makinda,
and Negolai set out in one party, and myself and Yeava formed
another, for the hunt. We determined to keep near each other,
that in emergency we might be at hand to help each other. And
for the rest, silence and a sure aim were the only cautions to be
given.

As we followed the tracks we could easily see that there were
four or five of them; though none appeared very large. We
saw where they had run along on all fours, the usual mode of
progression of these animals, and where from time to time they
had seated themselves to chew the canes they had borne off.
The chase began to be very exciting.

We had agreed to return to the women and their guards, and
consult upon final operations, when we should have discovered
their probable course; and this was now done. To make sure
of not alarming our prey, we moved the whole party forward a
little way to where some leafy huts, built by passing traders,
served for shelter and concealment. And having here bestowed
the women—who have a lively fear of the terrible gorilla, in
consequence of various stories current among the tribes, of
women having been carried off into the woods by the fierce
animal—we prepared once more to set out in chase, this time
hopeful to catch a shot.

Looking once more to our guns, we started off. I confess that
I never was more excited in my life. For years I had heard of
the terrible roar of the gorilla, of its vast strength, its fierce
courage if, unhappily, only wounded by a shot. I knew that
we were about to pit ourselves against an animal which even the
tiger of these mountains fears and which, perhaps, has driven
the lion out of this territory; for the king of beasts, so numerous

~ HUNTING GORILLAS 195

elsewhere in Africa, is never met in the land of the gorilla. Thus
it was with no little emotion that I now turned again toward
the prize at which I had been hoping for years to get a shot.

We descended a hill, crossed a stream on a fallen log, and
presently approached some huge boulders of granite. Alongside
of this granite block lay an immense dead tree, and about this
we Saw many evidences of the very recent presence of the gorillas.

Our approach was very cautious. We were divided into two
parties. Makinda led one and I the other. We were to sur-
round the granite block behind which Makinda supposed the
gorillas to be hiding. Guns cocked and in hand, we advanced
through the dense wood, which cast a gloom even in midday
over the whole scene. I looked at my men, and saw plainly that
they were in even greater excitement than myself.

Slowly we pressed on through the dense brush, fearing almost
to breathe for fear of alarming the beasts. Makinda was to go
to the right of the rock, while I took the left. Unfortunately,
he circled it at too great a distance. The watchful animal saw
him. Suddenly I was startled by a strange, discordant, half
human, devilish cry, and beheld four young gorillas running
toward the deep forests. We fired, but hit nothing. Then we
rushed on in pursuit; but they knew the woods better than we.
Once I caught a glimpse of one of the animals again, but an
intervening tree spoiled my mark, and I did not fire. We ran
till we were exhausted, but in vain. The alert beasts made good
their escape. When we could pursue no more, we returned
slowly to our camp, where the women were anxiously expecting us.

I protest I felt almost like a murderer when I saw the gorillas
this first time. As they ran—on their hind legs—they looked
fearfully like hairy men; their heads down, their bodies inclined
forward, their whole appearance like men running for their lives.
Take with this their awful cry, which, fierce and animal as it is,
has yet something human in its discordance, and you will cease
to wonder that the natives have the wildest superstitions about
these “wild men of the woods.”

Both Savage and Du Chaillu and all succeeding
authorities, including the standard works on natural

196 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

history, speak of the gorillas as among the most
powerful and ferocious animals on earth. And this
reputation is so firmly established in the popular
mind that our plan of taking ladies with no previous
hunting experience of any kind into a gorilla country
in Central Africa was looked upon as madness. But
to the general theory of the ferocity of wild animals
I have never been a convert. And the more I have
seen of wild animals in Africa the less I have believed
in their ferocity. Consequently, I explained my creed
concerning the gorillas in this fashion:

I believe that the gorilla is normally a perfectly amiable and
decent creature. I believe that if he attacks man it is because
he is being attacked or thinks that he is being attacked. I be-
lieve that he will fight in self-defense and probably in defense
of his family; that he will keep away from a fight until he is
frightened or driven into it. I believe that, although the old
male advances when a hunter is approaching a family of gorillas,
he will not close in, if the man involved has the courage to stand
firm. In other words, his advance will turn out to be what is
usually called a bluff.

I believe, however, that the white man who will allow a gorilla
to get within ten feet of him without shooting is a plain darn
fool, for certainly the average man would have little show in the
clutch of a three or four hundred pound gorilla.

My faith in the general amiability and decency of the gorilla
is not based on experience or actual knowledge of any sort, but
on deductions from the observation of wild animals in general
and more particularly of monkeys. There are few animals that
deliberately go into fight with an unknown antagonist or with a
known antagonist, for that matter, without what seems to them a
good reason. In other words, they are not looking for trouble.

The lion will fight when the maintenance of his dignity de-
mands it. Most animals will fight only when driven to it through
fear, either for themselves or their young.

HUNTING GORILLAS 197

The first living gorilla that I ever observed was in the Zodlogi-
cal Park in London many years ago. It was very young and
its chief aim in life seemed a desire to be loved. This has seemed
to be the chief characteristic of the few live gorillas that I have
seen in captivity. They appear to have an extremely affection-
ate disposition and to be passionately fond of the person most
closely associated with them; and I think there is no doubt that
John Daniel, who died in the Ringling Brothers Circus in Madi-
son Square Garden in the spring of 1921, died of a broken heart
because he was separated from his mistress. I did not have the
pleasure of seeing John Daniel alive; but in death he certainly
had the appearance of anything but a savage beast. The
above notes are here set down for the purpose of recording the
frame of mind with which I am going into the Kivu country
to study, photograph, and collect gorillas.

Going as I am, equipped with motion-picture cameras with
which one can get motion pictures under most adverse condi-
tions, I am led to hope for something in the way of photographs
of live wild gorillas. I hope that I shall have the courage to allow
an apparently charging gorilla to come within reasonable dis-
tance before shooting. I hesitate to say just what I consider a
reasonable distance at the present moment. I shall feel very
gratified if I can get a photograph at twenty feet. I should be
proud of my nerve if I were able to show a photograph of him
at ten feet, but I do not expect to do this unless I am at the
moment a victim of suicidal mania.

The rest of the party had the courage of my con-
'victions and with these tenets we set out, men,
women, and child to hunt the “ferocious” gorilla in
the heart of Africa.

While getting provisions and equipment in London
I had the good fortune to be able to check up with
accuracy the location of the gorilla country. I had
lunch with Sir Northrop Macmillan from Nairobi,
Kenia Colony, Sir Charles Ross, and Mr. Grogan, who

198 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

twenty-four years before had walked alone from the
Cape to Cairo—the first man who ever made that trip.
Sir Charles Ross had directions from Mr. T. Alexander
Barnes for getting to the Kivu region where Barnes
had the year before killed a gorilla. Mr. Grogan
supplemented these directions, for in this very region
on his famous walk he had found a gorilla skull.
He knew the region well, for he had been stationed in
it during the war. With this very valuable corrobo-
ration we set sail for Cape Town.

To the Kivu gorilla country from Cape Town is a
varied and interesting journey. It took us about six
weeks of constant travelling. The journey from
Cape Town to Bukama, where we left the railroad,
occupied seventeen days including stops which are
quite a feature of South African travel. At one
place we waited six days for a train. It is worth
notice that on this entire railroad journey we did not
see a single head of game—so rapidly has African wild
life disappeared in the south. From Bukama we
travelled on a steel barge towed by a river boat for
a five-day run down the Lualaba which is really the
upper waters of the Congo. The boat ran along dur-
ing the day and tied up at night so that we missed
nothing of the beauty and interest of that part.of the
river’s course. The bird life was in great profusion.
Great trees hung over the river and were reflected
from its placid surface with almost perfect outline
and detail. There were a few crocodiles in sight.
We saw one hippopotamus and once on this trip we
saw elephants some distance from the bank.

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A map showing Mr. Akeley’s route to the gorilla country north of Lake Kivu and
its location in Africa

199

200 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

At the end of this lazy steamer trip we came to
* Kabalo from which occasionally a train sets out upon
the journey to Albertville on Lake Tanganyika. A
boat on the lake took us from Albertville to Usumbura
from which a seven days’ safari brought us to the
lower end of Lake Kivu. To get from the bottom
of Lake Kivu to the upper end, we had to make ar-
rangements for a special trip of the little government
boat. This we did with the Belgian Administrator
at Usumbura. Here, as elsewhere, my experience
with the administrative officers in these outposts
of the Belgian Congo was one of courtesy and effec-
tiveness. Halfway up the lake we stopped at the
White Friars’ Mission on the west bank and heard
the story of a gorilla recently killed in the vicinity.
This gorilla had come down into a banana grove not
far from the Mission. The chief of the village which
owned the grove told his followers to go out and
chase the beast away, but not to go armed, for the
beast, in the superstition of the neighbourhood, had
some sacred attributes. The chief’s subjects accord-
ingly went forth with sticks to drive out the gorilla,
but he refused to be driven and resented the disturb-
ance enough to catch one of his tormentors and kul
him. After this the chief thought the gorilla less
sacred and ordered his subjects to take their spears
with them and kill the animal.

I was not entirely clear about the veracity of this
tale nor whether it confirmed my theory about the
gorilla or the more usual “ferocious” theory. If the
natives were willing to go out to chase the gorilla

HUNTING GORILLAS 201

away armed only with sticks, its reputation for feroc-
ity could not be great. On the other hand, the con-
fidence in the animal’s harmlessness seemed to have
been misplaced. But one fact did stand out. We
were getting into the real gorilla country. That
quickened the blood. The next day we went to the
head of the lake.

A Belgian administrator and his wife who were on
the boat with us left us at Kissenyi at the northern
end of Lake Kivu. They had a three weeks’ trek
before them, over the mountains to their own home
and the district over which the administrator had
supervision. They had told us many stories of
gorillas in their section of the country, of the gorillas
becoming so aggressive that they had entered several
villages and driven out the natives, and they had
urged us to go with them, but we stuck to our original

plan.
Here at Kissenyi was another Beigian station and

here we met Mrs. T. Alexander Barnes, the wife of a
man whose directions we had received from Sir
Charles Ross. Barnes himself was in the interior
hunting gorillas for the British Museum. We sent
a note to him because we did not want to interfere
with his hunting, and in the meanwhile set to work
to get our porters and guides ready. We decided it
would be best for the women to stay at Kissenyi for
the time being and for me to push on for the gorilla
country. There were two reasons for this decision.
Mrs. Bradley had a little touch of fever and it was
not advisable for her to leave, and secondly, while I

202 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

did not believe much in the danger to us from the
gorillas, I was greatly afraid that with a large hunting
party there might be equally little danger to them.
So it was determined that I should try to insure the
Museum some specimens and if possible get the first
moving pictures of live wild gorillas ever taken.

It was a three days’ march from Kissenyi to the
White Friars’ Mission at Lulenga in the interior. This
Mission I found was the base from which Barnes
operated and also, I learned, it was the base the Prince
of Sweden had used. It lay near the foot of Mt.
Mikeno in a country of volcanic origin. The White
Friars themselves carry on here the teaching of the
Catholic religion to which they add the practice of
medicine and teaching of manual training. Some
of the friars have been there as long as seventeen
years. At the Mission I was supplied with a guide.
I went a little way into the woods and was shown
signs that gorillas had fed there within a day or two.
I was nervous and anxious. The long trip was done.
I was actually in the gorilla country. I was an al-
ternating current of eagerness to go and fear that I
should find nothing.

The latter mood prevailed the next morning, for
although I was ready to start for the bamboos by
daylight my guides, who were supposed to be in
camp, were nowhere to be found. I had to send for
them, but we did not get started before eight.

We trailed up through the forest into the bamboos,
seeing signs of elephant and buffalo—some of the
signs being made the night before—and I had to

HUNTING GORILLAS 203

pinch myself occasionally to bring about the realiza-
tion that I was not hunting elephants on a miniature
Kenia. There was the same vegetation, except that
the trees were smaller. There were elephant trails,
but only a few and with small tracks. There were no
great forest trees like those of Kenia, no bamboos
seventy-five feet high with five-inch stems. There
was just little stuff, but still it was all reminiscent of
Kenia. One thing, the slopes were just as steep and
‘just as slippery, and the mud in the level places just
as deep and sticky as Kenia’s.

Through this forest there are native trails or game
trails almost everywhere. We had followed these
trails for about two hours up the side of Mikeno when
we came to a spot where there was a little mud hole
in the path. I'll never forget it. In that mud hole
were the marks of four great knuckles where the
gorilla had placed his hand on the ground. There is
no other track like this on earth—there is no other
hand in the world so large. Nearest to it is the hand
of the chimpanzee, and he does not place his hand on
the ground in the same way. As I looked at that
track I lost the faith on which I had brought my party
to Africa. Instinctively I took my gun from the gun
boy. I knew then the feeling Du Chaillu described
in his quaint phrase, “‘ My feelings were really excited
to a painful degree.”

I had more thrill from the sight of this first track
than from anything that happened later. I forgot
all about Kenia as the guide took up the trail. Half
an hour later we came upon other tracks, tracks made

204. IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

by the feet of the beast, enormous human-looking
tracks showing the marks of a heel which no other
living thing in the world but the gorilla and man has.
I gave the boy back the Springfield and took the big
.475 elephant gun. And although the next bit of
going was hard and wearing, I carried the gun myself
and trusted it to no gun boy.

We followed the trail for two hours, and I think a
full half hour was spent on all fours in true story-
book fashion.

It led us through a clearing where bamboo cutters
had been at work, and we failed to pick it up again
even though I offered the guides a king’s ransom (in
their eyes) if they would show me the old boy before
dark. They were lackadaisical about the whole
affair. I had to give it up, and as I started for camp
I realized that I was very tired. Then we spent an
hour going straight up the steepest possible slope and
down again following sounds that turned out to be
made by a troop of monkeys. When we reached
camp at three o’clock in the inevitable downpour
of this season, I was “all in.” The rain stopped, and
I called a conference of the guides with the result
that I came to the conclusion that they were entirely
useless. They did not want to goon atall. I broke
camp immediately and started a two-and-a-half hour
march to the Mission not knowing just what my next
move would be—probably to hunt up some “bush-
men” as guides. I reached the Mission before sun-
down, in the usual rain, and went to bed.

The next morning I came around to the southwest

HUNTING GORILLAS 205

of Mikeno, about three hours from the Mission, to
the village of the Sultan of Burunga who came out to
meet me. [ explained my mission, and he immedi-
ately brought forward from the group of natives who
accompanied him two splendid fellows who he said
would guide me. There was a gleam of real hope in
the situation. We would camp at Burunga for the
night and start up the mountain in the morning. As
I turned to go toward the indicated camping place,
a husky, handsome native came up in breathless haste,
and presented a note of recommendation as gun-bearer
signed by T. A. Barnes. He was promptly engaged
and everything seemed bright again.

I was ready to start soon after daylight. I had'
felt so keen for the coming of the light and had hoped
for so much from the new gun-bearer and guides.
They had a cozy nest some distance from camp; they
had seemed so enthusiastic the day before and had
promised an early start. I waited and waited till
my patience was exhausted. I feared another farce
so finally sent for them. They came smiling, con-'
fident, and keen to be off. They insisted that no
porters could go—it would not be possible to carry
cameras or any of the scientific kit where they
were going. It was up to them. I had put myself
in their hands. I wanted to at least see a gorilla.
I still doubted that there could be such a thing in
this part of the world—even though I 4ad seen its
tracks.

We started down into that deep chasm to the west
which the camp overhung, then up to the other side—

206 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

up and up—crawling and scrambling, the guides
cutting a way through the dense growth of greenery,
beating down and cursing the nettles which were
everywhere. On and on up to the crest of the ridge
and then up along the “hogback”’ until we were five
hundred feet above camp—then at a level along the
western slope. I earnestly hoped they. would go no
higher; it was grilling work. We were overlooking
another chasm with a still higher ridge on the far side.
We stopped occasionally to scan the opposite side.
It was deathly still—there was rarely the slightest
breeze. Someone heard a sound across the nullah—
very slight—but the guides were suspicious. We
went on, stopping now and then to look and listen.
The youngest guide, a boy of fourteen, perhaps,
pointed to a spot where he had seen a movement of
the vegetation. We watched closely for five minutes,
then a great black head slowly appeared above the
green—rather indistinct, but there could be no doubt
as to what it was.

It was my first glimpse of a wild gorilla. It has
left an everlasting impression, for it was so totally dif-
ferent from anything I had expected. In a solid
wall of vivid green a great scraggly black head rose
slowly into view where it remained motionless for
perhaps a half minute, giving me time to view it with
field glasses so that I was able to make out the fea-
tures. I was actually seeing a live wild gorilla.
At the end of a long journey I was face to face with
the creature I sought. I took the gun with slight
intention of chancing a shot at that distance unless

MALE OF KARISIMBI

LONE

4

THE

Shot by Mr. Bradley

THE HEAD OF MR. AKELEY’S FIRST GORILLA

HUNTING GORILLAS 207

there should be opportunity for very careful and de-
liberate aim. The shaggy head was withdrawn—
then a glimpse of the great silvery back and we saw
no more. We went into the beastly chasm and up
again to where he had been.

The guides were too eager; I had constantly to hold
them back while I stopped to breathe. We took up
his trail. He led us on to the crest of that ridge and
then along the “hogback”’ till we were about one
thousand feet above camp. Then as the trail swung
along the other slope at the level we heard one short
roar ahead of us. The thrill of it! I had actually
heard the roar of a bull gorilla! It seemed perhaps
two hundred yards ahead. I thought it indicated
alarm and that he would lead us a merry chase. We
continued along the trail slowly, for it led along a
slope so steep that without the rank vegetation we
could not have stuck on. |

We had gone not more than one hundred and fifty
yards from the time we heard the roar, with the gun-
bearer just ahead and the second gun and guides
behind. The gun-bearer stopped, looking up into
the dense tangle above us. It was still as death—no
sound of movement could I hear. The gun was in
his left hand; with his right he clung to the bank just
beside him. Behind there was a four-inch tree be-
tween me and a straight drop of twenty feet, then
a slide of fifty feet to the edge of a chasm more than
200 feet deep. I leaned my back against this tree that
I might straighten up for a better look. The gun-
bearer turned slowly and passed me the .475. As I

208 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

took it I heard that roar again—thirty feet away,
almost directly above. One plunge and down we
would all go three hundred feet to the bottom. With-
out the support of the sapling at my back it would
not be humanly possible to fire the big gun upward
from that trail. There was a deal of comfort in the
feel of that old gun even though theoretically I did
not fear gorillas; it had stood by me in more than
one close place. After the roar there was silence
for an instant—not a branch stirred—then a crashing
rush along at a level, above and past me—another
roar—back again to where he had been. I had seen
nothing but a swaying of the mass of vegetation right
down to our feet. He stopped where he had been
at first. Silence. Through the green against the sky
I seemed to make out a denser mass—the outline of
his head. J aimed just below and his fourth roar
was broken by the roar of the .475. Ai terrific crash-
ing plunge of three or four hundred pounds of beast,
he struck the trail eight feet from me. The gun was
on him. There was a soft nose in the left barrel ready
for him, but it was unnecessary. The slight ledge
of trail did not stop him in the least. He crashed
on down over and over, almost straight downward
toward the edge of the chasm.

My heart sank for I realized that if he went to
the bottom I would stand little chance of being
able to recover him and my first gorilla would have
been killed in vain. Overhanging the edge of the
chasm there was a lone tree, two feet in diameter,
and the gorilla in his plunge struck this tree, rolled

HUNTING GORILLAS 209

up on its leaning trunk, and back again to its base,
where he came to rest with his head hanging over
on one side of the tree and his feet on the other.
Had there been a single movement in him he must
have goneon. The solid from the right barrel had
done its work well—in just above the heart through
the «orta, through the spine, and out through the
right shoulder blade. As he came crashing down
I somehow felt confident that all was well. I have
never had a more thrilling experience, but I’ve been
much more frightened many times. The gun-bearer
was a trump. He was the worst scared black man
I ever saw. If I looked as frightened as he, I am
thankful no movie camera was on the job. You see,
he was between me and the beast when he struck the
trail eight feet away.

I had left the cameras and tools in camp to be sent
for if they were needed. As the beast lay, a camera
could not be used. I could do nothing in sketches
worth while, so I sent for nothing. I set to work with
my jack-knife and one of the boys had a native iron
knife and with these two tools we skinned and skele-
tonized the gorilla. As we turned him over it kept
all hands busy to avoid losing the balance of the beast
and ourselves. It took more than a half hour to
get the skin and skeleton back to where I had shot
from—a human rope stunt. The boys all worked
beautifully. Then we had the long, hard trek back
to camp.

All hands in camp (forty odd) got a present—
enough so that they were all happy, although that

210 YN BRIGHTEST AFRICA:

did not take much. I was busy all the following day
with skin and skeleton, making such studies as were
possible. Everything was set for a real hunt on the
next day, but I could not hope for a more thrilling and
dramatic episode than the taking of my first gorilla.

CHAPTER XII

ADVENTURES ON MT. MIKENO

HE day after I shot my first gorilla on the

slopes of Mikeno I spent in camp. I should
have preferred to spend it resting, for the day

before had been a strenuous one, especially for a man
suffering from blood poisoning, as I was. I had had
it for some time and had lost about twenty pounds
during the preceding three weeks. This left me in a
weakened condition and a rest would have been wel-
come. Had I been hunting merely to kill I should
have laid offa day. But science is a jealous mistress
and takes little account of a man’s feelings. I had
skinned the old gorilla roughly in the field the day
before. If I wanted properly to preserve the speci-
men, there was no time to be lost. I set the Negroes
at work cleaning the skeleton, keeping an eye on them
as I worked at other things to see that they did not
lose any of the bones. I had personally to take care
of the feet, hands, and head. This latter I set up
and photographed. Then I made a death mask of
the face. The brains and internal organs I had to
preserve in formalin. The whole business was a full
hard day’s work. One of the chief difficulties with
scientific collecting is the necessity for doing all the
skinning, cleaning, measuring, and preserving at once.

2m

212 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

For one man one gorilla properly attended to is a full
day’s work. If a man gets two or three specimens,
he has to keep working night and day until he gets
them done.

This is one of the reasons why, although great num-
bers of animals are shot in Africa, there is so compara-
tively little scientific and taxidermical data about
them. This day I was up about daybreak. I had
an English breakfast, most of which had come from
London with me—tea, toast, marmalade, and bacon.
From then until dark I measured and skinned and
preserved, and when night came I rolled into my
blankets and slept the sleep of exhaustion.

When daybreak came I was ready to start again.
Had I felt certain of finding gorillas in that country
as easily as I now know they can be found I might
have waited a day. But I had come 15,000 miles
to see gorillas and I couldn’t wait for the fulfillment
of my hopes, nor did the ease of finding my first prize
assure me that I was certain of getting the others I
wanted.

We set out in the same direction as on the previous
hunt. In the woods on these mountain sides the
ground growth is extremely thick, and as high up as
we went there were no elephant or other paths. It
was necessary to go through the woods. The natives’
method of travelling is to cut a trail as they proceed.
They used a hooked knife of great effectiveness with
which to cut the undergrowth. The stuff is thick
enough to impede one’s progress, but far worse than
that it is filled with nettles, so that unless it is cut

ADVENTURES ON MT. MIKENO 213

out in this way one is constantly and unmercifully
stung. That is bad enough for a white man who is
clothed, but is even worse for the blacks who wear
nothing to protect them. Nevertheless, cutting as
they go, the natives make pretty good time, perhaps
two miles an hour up hill and down. Anyway, I
found that I had all I could do to keep up with them;
weak as I was, I had frequently to slow them down.
In this way we had passed over several ridges when
we came on the trail of a band of gorillas. The trail
they make is plain enough, for the undergrowth is
so thick that each of the animals leaves a kind of
swath of bent and broken greenery. Their trail led
us along the side of a steep slope, so steep that every
move had to be made with caution. If the gorilla
was in the habit of travelling either far or fast, catch-
ing up with him in this country would be a heart-
breaking if not an impossible task. But I believe
the gorilla normally travels only from three to five
miles a day. He loafs along through the forest, eat-
ing as he goes. As the trail we found was fresh it
was likely that the gorillas were not far away. And
so it turned out. We had followed for perhaps an
hour when a dislodged rock thundering down into
the chasm about two hundred yards ahead of us gave
a clue to their whereabouts, and so we sat tight and
soon located them by moving bushes, across a bit
of a bay formed by a curve of the ridge. There I
saw a big female and very foolishly tried a shot with
the Springfield. I suppose in justification of my lack
of faith in the thing it missed fire twice and by the

214 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

time I got the big gun in hand the female had disap-
peared and a big silver-backed male was in sight.

He was about 150 yards away. He was just disap-
pearing when I got the big gun to my shoulder and
I had to shoot quickly. I fired and missed. They
disappeared, and I fully appreciated what an ass I
had been. We scrambled on for an hour more—the
hillside becoming higher and more precipitous every
minute. At last a slight movement of the bush above
made us aware of their presence.

The fact that we came up with them again after
my shooting was pretty good evidence that even
when disturbed the gorilla does not travel either far
or fast. The experience I had had with my first
gorilla two days before corroborated this. He had,
in fact, run only about 300 yards after first seeing us
before stopping. Asa matter of fact, I do not believe
that the gorilla can run fast. Unlike animals that
catch others for food, the gorilla, who eats vegetation,
does not have to run for his dinner. Neither does
he have to run to escape serving as dinner for some
other animals. His legs, compared to his weight,
are small and, in relation to man’s, very short. On
fair footing I think the average man could outrun a
gorilla.

Where we came in sight of this band there was no
friendly tree to lean against as there had been in the
case of the first gorilla. The hillside was so steep
that it was difficult to find footing from which to
shoot. For a slight sense of security I entangled
myself in a bush and stood ready to shoot.

ADVENTURES ON MT. MIKENO 215

There was not the straight drop of the other day
but a steep slope which could be done on all fours—
for twenty feet—and then straight down two hundred
feet. I got a fair sight of an old black female and it
looked as though the bushes she was in would hold her
if I killed her instantly. She was fifty feet away. I
fired and she came exactly as the other one had—the
slope was so steep it was practically a fall—and
straight at me. I tried to dodge but could not as
_ the recoil of the gun had caused me to lose my balance
a bit and I could not recover in time. I threw myself
flat, face down, just in time and she passed over me.
It was so steep and the mass of green stuff going with
her so softened things that I merely felt her—there
was no perceptible shock, but when I got up I hada
great welt on the top of my head which she had
caused. As I partially rose there seemed to be an
avalanche of gorillas. There was a big ball of black
fur, squealing madly, rolling past—actually touching
me—in the wake of the old one. I took a shot at it
as it went over, and, by the time I had recovered and
reloaded, two others that had been close by had
disappeared.

I believe that to be the fastest charge ever made by
a gorilla against man. I think it was pushed home
with more abandon than any other on record. I am
almost certain of these two statements, the particular
reason for my certainty being that the gorilla, when
she charged or more correctly speaking fell down
the hill, was dead and she couldn’t have any of the
hesitations which I believe prevent such charges by

216 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

live gorillas. The others followed her not in anger
but in fear and because they accepted her lead with-
out realizing that it was involuntary. If their charge
had been aimed at me they had plenty of time to
knock me off the mountain side before I could get
up and shoot again, and the Negroes, being armed
only with spears and hanging on a precipitous slope,
were almost as defenceless.

I began to feel a good deal of confidence in my
theory that the gorilla is not a ferocious beast, al-
though I was gaining the utmost respect for his size
and power. If being molested by man would make
gorillas ferocious and aggressive, these animals should
have been excessively dangerous, for within a very
short time the Prince of Sweden had shot fourteen of
them, and Barnes had killed several more. The
very animals that I followed had probably heard the
guns of these other men. Yet I could see no signs
of ferocity. When I came up with the old male that
I had killed first, he had run back and forth on the
hillside barking in protest or surprise at my intrusion
just as I have seen little monkeys run back and forth
on alimb and bark; but of his having savage intentions
against me I saw no sign. Of the two I was the sav-
age and the aggressor. In the case of the female I
had just shot, the same was true, even though she
was accompanied by her baby. She evidently pre-
ferred to get away if possible. Cornered, I think and
hope she would fight for her young.

What became of the last two animals I do not
know. The black fur ball that I had fired at was,

ADVENTURES ON MT. MIKENO 217

I believe, the four-year-old son of the old female.
He apparently caught on somewhere, for a half hour
later when we were trying to find a way down we
came across him and, as he ran about, one of the guides
speared him. I came up before he was dead. There
was a heartbreaking expression of piteous pleading
on his face. He would have come to my arms for
comfort.

About this time the chasm filled with a fog so dense
that we could not move with safety. Another half hour
and the fog was cleared by a heavy cold rain and
hail and we continued to search for a way down to
the dead gorilla. The Negroes had worked earnestly,
but they gave up and said it could not be done. Poor
devils, they were stark naked in that icy rain; God
knows how they lived through it. When they gave
up they gave up for good apparently, stood shaking
with cold, making no effort to find shelter from the
rain. I took off my Burberry raincoat and got seven
of them under it with me.

In such proximity to seven naked natives almost
all of my senses were considerably oppressed and I
was grateful when the rain lessened so that I might
put them at a more respectful as well as a more com-
fortable distance. The others had huddled under
an old tree root. All came out and we looked over
the situation. We were on the side of a ridge of
Mikeno. Where we were there was vegetation and
a fair foothold. Below and above us were stretches
of sheer rock. Not far from us a little stream fell
off the shelf where we were, in a clear fall of 200 feet.

218 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

The gorilla was somewhere near the bottom of that
fall. The natives insisted that it was impossible to
get to the dead animal. To go straight down was
impossible. But I felt that there might be a chance
to work along sideways in a patch of vegetation until
we could get down to a lower level. By working back
and forth on the face of the mountain side in this way
I hoped to reach the dead gorilla. However, I soon
realized that if I wanted to try this somewhat hazard-
ous experiment I should have to lead the way, for
the blacks had nothing greater than a few days’ wages
at stake while I had one of the prizes of a long and
expensive expedition. So I swung down on the over-
hanging roots of a tree and began the descent with
the natives following. It took a surprisingly long
time for us to get down the 200 feet, and it finally
turned out that the route that I took led off io
one side where I could not reach the gorilla when I
had descended to her level. Twenty or thirty feet
farther down I managed to cross to the stream-bed
and then went up the stream to the bottom of the
falls and from there to where the body lay. Where
the stream-bed was steepest, we literally had the water
falling on our heads as we scrambled up.

It was a tough job skinning and skeletonizing her.
In the first place, I was tired and she was heavy, and
in the second place if she was turned over with any-
thing but the utmost care she was likely to roll off
down into the chasm below. Nor could I get much
assistance from the boys, for there was only room
enough for a man or two to help. However, in some

ADVENTURES ON MT. MIKENO — 219

manner we managed a satisfactory job in everything
but one particular. The camera boy had come down
but the tripod carrier never appeared. If it had been
an ordinary camera the loss of the tripod would have
made little difference, but it was the moving-picture
camera, and a moving-picture camera without a
tripod is useless.
It was well past mid-afternoon when the skin and
bones were ready to move to camp.
As I worked I had kept wondering how we were
ever to get up out of the chasm, especially with the
added burdens we had acquired. I am still wonder-
ing how we did get out. The “human fly” was no
more remarkable than those black boys. My heart
was in my mouth for an hour watching them work
their way up the almost perpendicular wall of that
chasm with the skin and skeleton. We got to camp
just before dark in a pouring rain, and I am free to
confess that during the last hour I several times
doubted if I should get in. It was beyond doubt the
toughest day I ever spent. Never again—not for all
the gorillas and museums in the world. I spent the
next day in camp working on the two specimens—the
female and the baby that had been speared—and
finally had three beautiful gorilla skins all safe under
the fly of my tent. They were so well assorted that
they would make a very satisfactory group if I got
no more. I had death masks of each and skeletons
of the two old ones; but the four-year-old, a vigorous
young male, I pened with infinite care and pre-
served the entire carcass with formalin and salt—a

2.20 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

precious anatomical record for sculptural and taxi-
dermic use.

The gun boys and guides came the following
morning and said they were going home. It took
an hour, money, and many promises to make them
change their minds. Heaven knows I did not blame
them. I would not do what they had done for
money.

However, I did not start again. Although I had
worked one whole day on the last two gorillas I had
some things still to do and I felt that with enough
material on hand for a good group even if I got no
more I could go a bit easier. So I stayed in camp
another day and planned a gorilla hunt for the moving-
picture camera. On the side hills where we had been
hunting there was no possible hope of using a camera
so I told the boys if they took me in any such places
again I would annihilate them. Not only would it
be useless for the camera but I felt that I couldn’t
stand another such trip myself. So they promised
me an easier route, and equipped with photographic
outfit we started off in the direction of the Saddle
between Mikeno and Karisimbi. It seemed a very
stiff climb to me in the beginning, but I have learned
since that it was chiefly because of my extreme weak-
ness. Before I had been out an hour I was sorely
tempted to return to camp and give it up; but we
came upon a fresh trail of a band of gorillas which
for some reason or other the guides followed only a
short distance, continuing on in the same general
direction in which we had started, without any en-

ADVENTURES ON MT. MIKENO 221

couragement, until it seemed that we had gone to
the crest of the Saddle. There, as the result of a
conference between the guides, we started in a south-
erly direction intending to work in a roundabout
way back to camp. Camp was the only thing that
I was interested in, for at this time I was practt-
cally “‘done.”’

Ten minutes later the guides ducked, and crouch-
ing, came back and fell in behind me. I took the gun
from the bearer, and looking over the tops of the
greenery of a little rise in front of us I saw a spot of
black fur perhaps fifty yards ahead. As I crouched,
waiting for a better view, the animal I was watching
climbed up on a nearly horizontal branch of a tree
looking back in my direction. In the meantime, the
motion-picture camera had been brought to my side.
I raised it carefully, put it in position, and all this
time another larger gorilla was making the ascent of
the horizontal branch of the tree. It was apparently
an old mother and her two-year-old baby. Almost
before I knew it I was turning the crank of the camera
on two gorillas in full view with a beautiful setting
behind them. I do not think at the time that I
appreciated the fact that I was doing a thing that
had never been done before. As I ground away, a
second baby came scrambling up a near-by tree.
The baby seemed very much interested in the opera-
tion. The mother professed indifference and a cer-
tain amount of boredom and after a bit pretended to
lie down on one arm and go to sleep. The babies,
one of them at least, seemed to be amused. He would

229 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

stand up, fold his arms and slap them against his
breast, which suggested uproarious laughter on his
part.

When I had turned off about one hundred feet with
my heart in my mouth for fear the thing would come
to an end too soon, I realized that I had as much of
that particular subject as I wanted, there being no
great amount of movement. So I changed the two-
inch lens for the six-inch lens in order to make a “‘close-
up.” When I had taken about three hundred feet
I felt that I would like a change of scene; so with
my hand on the camera I stood up straight and
tried to start a conversation with them. They all
bolted.

It was amazing what an effect that minute or two of
experience had on me physically. I forgot my weari-
ness and took up the trail. For the next hour we fol-
lowed them, getting glimpses of them frequently.
There were probably ten or twelve in the band; but
never again did I get the opportunity to photograph
them—yjust little glimpses of black fur dodging about
through the greenery. At one time with my glasses
I watched them across a ravine for a considerable
time. The old female was lying down on her back
yawning and stretching, but she was too far away
fora photograph. So finally, feeling that I had about
all I could expect from that band, I picked out one
that I thought to be an immature male. I shot and
killed it and found, much to my regret, that it was a
female. As it turned out, however, she was such a
splendid large specimen that the feeling of regret was

ADVENTURES ON MT. MIKENO = 223

considerably lessened. This female had a baby
which was hustled off by the rest of the band. The
baby was crying piteously as it went.

This, added to the specimens on hand, brought the
material for the group to one old male, two females,
and a young male of about four years of age.

That night as I came into camp my mind went
back to a certain day eleven years before when I was
hunting lions on the Uasin Gishu Plateau with a
-moving-picture camera. A most wonderful opportu-
nity had then been given me. Full in front of me the
native hunters had drawn a lion’s charge and killed
the lion with their spears. But the opportunity had
been as short-lived as it was magnificent, and the kind
of camera I had then could not be handled that
quickly. As I walked back to camp that night, I
was determined to make a naturalist’s moving-picture
camera that would prevent my missing such a chance
if ever such a one came my way again. From IgIo0
to 1916 I worked on this camera whenever I had a
minute to spare. By i917 I had the pleasure of
knowing that it was used on observation planes des-
tined for the battlefields of France. I had myself
never had a chance to try my invention, except ex-
perimentally, until this trip to Africa. On this expe-
dition I had brought two—a large one for panorama
work and a smaller one nicknamed “the Gorilla”’ for
animal work. ‘The Gorilla” had taken 300 feet of
film of the animal that had heretofore never been
taken alive in its native wilds by any camera, still or
moving. Few things have given me greater satisfac-

224 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

tion than the realization that the failure of 1910 had
led directly to the success of 1921.

To make assurance doubly sure, as night came on
I had a fire made in the door of my tent and com-
forted by its warmth I took a little piece of the end
of the film and developed it. It was all right. I
took another sample from the middle. It, too, came
out strong. I was satisfied—more satisfied than a
man ever should be—but I revelled in the feeling.

CHAPTER XIII

THE LONE MALE OF KARISIMBI

B NOVEMBER 14th, I felt about as happy

and about as unhappy as I ever have in my

life. I felt exceedingly well about the success
of my gorilla hunts. I had four fine specimens for
the group which I intended to mount for the American
Museum of Natural History in New York, and I had
several hundred feet of moving-picture film of live
gorillas in their native forests—the first photographs
of live wild gorillas ever taken. I also had the fever
and that was what I was unhappy about. It was not
only uncomfortable but it also threatened to in-
terfere seriously with my plans and to put me in
an embarrassing position with the rest of the party.
Mr. and Mrs. Bradley and Miss Miller were camped
at Kissenyi two days’ march away. It had been
agreed that I should investigate the gorillas alone
first, but it was not contemplated that I get sick
during the investigation and not be ready to provide
hunting for them. They had come all the way to
Central Africa to hunt gorillas and the obligation
rested on me to see that they had that experience.
I was afraid that if I did not get them up into the
gorilla mountains quickly, | might not be in shape to -
fulfil this obligation and pleasure. So I sent a rather

225

226 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

urgent message that they come up to my camp.
Solicitation for my health and keenness for the hunt
led Bradley and the two ladies to make the two days’
march in one.

This taking ladies to hunt gorillas had caused a
certain amount of adverse comment of two kinds.
The uninitiated in African hunting censored me for
leading the ladies into such terrible dangers. The
initiated, or rather some of them, were a little irri-
tated with me because if I showed that ladies with
no previous hunting experience could hunt gorillas,
elephants, and lions, much of the heroics which have
attached to African big-game hunting would begin
to wane. As a naturalist interested in preserving
African wild life, I was glad to do anything that
might make killing animals less attractive.

I had never been in gorilla country before this trip,
but I had started in with the firm conviction that
hunting gorillas was not dangerous, or, of course, I
should not have taken the two ladies to hunt them.
My experiences proved my theory even more thor-
oughly than I had expected. Consequently, when
the ladies arrived I was prepared to take them after
gorillas without the slightest misgivings. After a
day of rest at the camp from which I had hunted,
we moved our base a thousand feet higher up (to
about 10,000 feet above sea level) to the Saddle be-
tween the two mountains, Mikeno and Karisimbi.
We had two good-sized tents, one for Mrs. Bradley
and Miss Miller and the other for Bradley and me.
We had a fly also for a dining tent. These arrange-

THE LONE MALE OF KARISIMBI 227

ments were quite comfortable except for the cold.
It was about 45 degrees Fahrenheit at night at the
Saddle Camp. There was an old five-gallon metal
cask with holes in it which when filled with coals made

B E

cz “ ¢

rs Ns
‘ > \Me
3 ayaa na

SSS. L
a> “GORILLA, CAMP”
a aan > o
(oo ome oes We ~
/ Ca BKarisimbt?
>

-~3

fi
(ELEVATIONS IN METERS) {3

A map showing the location of the three mountains, Mikeno,
Karisimbi, and Visoke, on whose slopes the gorillas live. These
three peaks are to be reserved as a sanctuary where further
studies of the gorilla may be made

a fair stove for the women’s tent, but the men’s tent
and the mess tent gave one very little feeling of the
tropics, in spite of the fact that we were very near the
equator. But if we were cold our plight was not to
be compared to the condition of the porters, gun-
bearers, and guides. They had little or no clothing

228 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

and they spent the night in hovels which they con-
structed in various places around camp, the chief
characteristic of which was a limited space which
insured crowding and a roof which would keep off the
rain.

The first day after we reached the Saddle Camp
we went on a fruitless hunt up and down the slopes of
Karisimbi. With the guides cutting a path as they
20, a party does not cover a great deal of distance ina
day. Nor is there any need for fast going, for the go-
rilla does not range far, nor even when pursued does he
go fast. On the other hand, even after the guides have
cut a “‘path” the going 1s sufficiently difficult under-
foot and so precipitous in these mountains that a
march of five or six miles is a fair day’s work, espe-
cially fora sick man. We saw no fresh signs of gorilla
on this first ladies’ hunt. We did run on to a buffalo
trail, but we did not come up to the animals, probably
because of the fact that I was not very keen about it
as it was very dense country and not at all the sort
of place in which to hunt buffalo with ladies.

The next day we went up the slopes of Karisimbi
farther to the west. We had not been out of camp
more than an hour and a half when I stopped to
make a panoramic motion picture of the wonderfully
beautiful view of the surrounding country. Just as I
was about to begin cranking, a signal from the guides
who had gone on ahead resulted in our going quickly
to them where they pointed out moving bushes a little
distance down the slope. We followed the guides
rapidly for a short distance, down on our hands and

THE LONE MALE OF KARISIMBI 229

knees and under a mass of dense vegetation, and as
we got to our feet on the other side we saw a huge
old silver back moving along in plain sight about
Itwenty-five yards away.

If the gorilla were as aggressive an animal as he has
been credited with being, this old fellow should have
charged that twenty-five yards in a few seconds and
given us a chance to defend the ladies heroically from
threatened death. However, he didn’t know his part,
for it was evident that his one idea was to go away.
His departure was interrupted by a shot from Bradley
which hit him in the neck. He fell like a log. While
we were congratulating Bradley and before we had
started for the prize, one of the guides suddenly
called our attention to the fact that the gorilla was
moving off. He disappeared from view. We fol-
lowed, scrambling along as rapidly as possible but
not making very fast progress. But our time was as
good as the gorilla’s, for we had glimpses of him as he
went down and up the other side of a gully to the crest
of aridge beyond. Ashe reached the top of this ridge
he came into full view perhaps fifty yards from where
we were. Bradley fired again. This shot sent him roll-
ing down the slope, stone dead. He lodged against the
base of an old tree. He was a fine specimen, a huge
creature weighing three hundred and sixty pounds. I
believe that he was the big lone male of Karisimbi
of which we had been told. He had unquestionably
met white men before because at one time he had been
badly wounded in the pelvis, leaving a permanent
deformation of the pelvic region and a crook in his

230 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

spine. Like all of the others he displayed no signs of
ageressiveness. He was intent only on getting away,
He had not made a single sound at any time.

As he lay at the base of the tree, it took all one’s
scientific ardour to keep from feeling like a murderer.
He was a magnificent creature with the face of an
amiable giant who would do no harm except perhaps
in self-defence or in defense of his friends.

From twenty feet above him on the slope where
we settled down with our kit to make pictures, notes,
and studies, we had a view of Mikeno and the sur-
rounding country which IJ then thought, and still
remember, as the most beautiful view I have ever seen;
and I believe my companions, one and all, quite
agree with me. The motion-picture camera was
directly behind us up the slope where we had deserted
it. It was sent for and a panorama was made from
over the body of the dead gorilla. Mikeno was at
her best; she had thrown aside her veil of cloud; her
whole summit was sharply outlined against the blue
of the tropical sky. The warm greens and browns
of the moss-covered cliffs suggested a drapery of
lovely oriental weave. From the summit well down
the wonderful line of the western slope the eye was
arrested by old Nyamlagira smouldering lazily and
sending her column of smoke and steam to join the
hovering cloudbank above—then on again the eye
swept over a scene of marvellous opalescent colour
in which were dimly seen distant mountain ranges;
suggestions of shimmering lakes, and mysterious
forests—then around to Chaninagongo, looming dark

|

THE LONE MALE OF KARISIMBI 231

and massive in the middle ground, smouldering, too,
but less demonstrative than her sister, Nyamlagira.
Lying almost at the foot of Chaninagongo and to the
south, glistened in the tropical sun the loveliest of
African inland waters—Lake Kivu. Behind us, up-
ward toward the summit of Karisimbi and adown
the slopes in front, there stretched a primeval forest
of marvellous beauty—in character unlike anything
else I know—a veritable fairyland—and at our feet
lay dead one of its great giants.

I realized that the search for a background and a
setting for the gorilla group was ended. We will re-
produce this scene on canvas as a background for
the gorillas when they are mounted in the Museum.
The foreground will be a reproduction of the old dead
tree with its wealth of vegetation in the midst of
which the old gorilla died. Of course, it is regrettable
that we had no painter with us at the time. To get
one there means another long journey from New York
to Central Africa, yet it will be worth it if the thou-
sands who visit the Museum get even a faint degree of
the satisfaction from the setting of the group that we
got from this view in the gorilla country.

I felt then, and even more so now, that that morn-
ing represented the high spot in my African expe-
riences. Inthe midst of a forest, a land of beauty, we
overlooked a scene incomparable, a scene of a world
in the making, while our great primitive cousin,
whose sanctuary we had invaded, lay dead at our feet.
That was the sad note. To me the source of greatest
joy was the fact that here, at the culmination of a

232 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

dream of thirty years, I was not alone. There were
three friends who keenly appreciated all that it
meant.

We had made good in our boasted undertaking of
taking ladies on a real gorilla hunt, presumably the
last word of danger and adventure in the popular
mind. Another popular illusion gone to smash! It
was adventure full of beauty and charm and hard
work, but absolutely without danger.

The gorilla is not dangerous, but he is impressive.
I have taken a tape and measured around the chests
of two good-sized men standing back to back. The
two together measured three inches less than Brad-
ley’s gorilla alone. His chest unexpanded was 62
inches. He weighed about as much as two men,
360 pounds.

Although not so tall as Dempsey, the gorilla weighs
nearly twice as much, and his arms are longer and
more powerful. But his legs, on the other hand,
are much shorter. Unquestionably a well-developed
man can travel both faster and farther than a
gorilla.

One can visualize something of his size by a com-
parison of his measurements with those of Jack
Dempsey.

GORILLA DEMPSEY

Height! ties) et slog thie a elite nce A 7a (10. ee

Weighty 2) 24) WU See oiae Wea gen iba OCU. 188 lbs.
oe SERMON N GPL RRMBEN A rev SOL Sat AN 62 in. 42 in.
Upper arma y\s0i/ie 0 4 olen peel is 18 in. 162 in.
[So Tel aaa MR eM Re LA A ha te 97 in. 74 in.

1 TENA aR iia ae el eC) PRAT Wed 153 in.

THE LONE MALE OF KARISIMBI 233

The next morning we decided to return to our base
camp on Mikeno, a thousand feet lower down. I
think we all wished to stay at the Saddle Camp longer
because of the marvellous beauty of the place, but our
guides and porters complained so bitterly, and I think
so justly, against the cold that a decision was made
on their account rather than our own. The guides,
however, were not content with their return to the
Mikeno Camp, but insisted on quitting their jobs
entirely. While this was a disarrangement of our
plans, my appreciation for all they had done and sym-
pathy with their just complaints caused me to pay
them off and let them go. The following day they
returned, a very dejected and penitent lot, and their
explanation for their return was interesting, to say the
least. When they reached home their sultan had asked
them if my work was finished and if they had stayed
until I no longer required them. They had admitted
that I had given my consent unwillingly. He had told
them that they must come back to me and stay until
the work was finished and that they must bring to
him a report from me of complete satisfaction.

Bradley and I remained two days longer, and these
guides were on the job every minute. It was adem-
onstration of honour and manliness on the part of
the sultan that I have rarely seen equalled in a savage.

Mrs. Bradley and Miss Miller went to the Mission
Camp, but Bradley and I remained for two days of
photographing and the cleaning up and the packing
of the gorilla material. The third and last day we
made the descent of the mountain, sending the por-

234 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

ters ahead with their loads to Burunga, but retaining
our guides for another hunt in the bamboos.

We had descended well down toward the lower
level of the bamboo when the guide led us along a
cattle trail up a ridge of Mikeno. We came toa track
of a single old male gorilla on this trail, which, after
we had followed it for a half hour, had been joined
by others. Ultimately we were on a perfectly fresh
trail of a whole band. The purpose of the hunt was
to get more pictures and to add to our series one
more specimen, a young male if possible. At this
time I had not seen more than one male with a gorilla
band and I felt that a group of two old males, two
females, and a youngster of four years would be
misleading; that if I used them I would have to
use one of the old males as an intruder in the family
group. I had to explain to my gun-bearer that we
must go slowly because I did not want to come up
with the gorillas in jungle so dense that I could not
photograph them; and that we must try to manage
not to disturb them until they had come to more
open country where the chance for observation would
be better. We were near the edge of a ravine the
opposite slope of which was cleared of bamboo and
bush. I suggested to him that if we could possibly
see them in a place like that, it would enable us
to do the things that we wanted to do. Not that I
actually hoped for any such luck; but as a matter
of fact, fifteen minutes later we heard the bark of
a gorilla. Peeping through the bush we saw the ©
entire band on that opposite slope, all of them in fulli

THE LONE MALE OF KARISIMBI 235

view. There were at least three old males, I think
four, and perhaps a dozen females and youngsters.
They, of course, had seen us. They were making
off toward the crest of the opposite slope as fast as
possible.

My first thought was along these lines:

“Here is a perfectly peaceful family group includ-
ing three or four males. I could use my two males
without apologies. There is really no necessity for
killing another animal.”

So the guns were put behind and the camera pushed
forward and we had the extreme satisfaction of seeing
that band of gorillas disappear over the crest of the
opposite ridge none the worse for having met with
white men that morning. It was a wonderful finish
to a wonderful gorilla hunt. We went on to Burunga
for the night and the next day we were at the Mission
by noon where we found Thanksgiving dinner waiting
for us. The chief mission of the expedition had been
successfully culminated, and all of us were together
again just in time for a real Thanksgiving.

CHAPTER XIV

IS THE GORILLA ALMOST A MAN?

HEN Herbert Bradley and I started down

\ \ from Mt. Mikeno to join the ladies of our

party at the Mission of the White Friars we
had the skeletons, skins, and measurements of four
adult gorillas and the mummified carcass and skin
of a baby. I had made death masks of them all and
likewise some plaster casts of their feet and hands.
I also had 300 or 400 feet of film showing wild gorillas
in action, and some general observations of the goril-
la’s habits in the mountains of the Lake Kivu region
on the eastern border of the Belgian Congo in Central
Africa. J had the material for which I had come to
Africa—material sufficient to make a correct group
of gorillas for the proposed Roosevelt African Hall
of the Museum of Natural History in New York—
but I also had a great deal more, a vision of how to
study this animal which is man’s nearest relative.

As soon as you have anything to do with the gorilla
the fascination of studying him begins to grow on
you and you instinctively begin to speak of the
gorilla as “he” in a human sense, for he is obviously
as well as scientifically akin to man.

I have taken some pains in describing my adven-
tures with the gorillas of Mikeno to show that they

236

GORILLA ALMOST MAN? 237

were not ferocious. I do not believe that they ever
are ferocious, nor do I believe that they will ever
attack man except when hard pressed and in self-
defence. I think I can also explain why the gorilla
has his aggressive reputation. I am going to quote
one of Paul du Chaillu’s adventures* with gorillas
and in the quotation put in brackets what Du Chaillu
felt, leaving outside the brackets what the gorilla
did. If you read the tale as Du Chaillu wrote it, it
gives an impression that the gorilla is a terrible animal.
If you read merely what the gorilla did, you will
see that he did nothing that a domestic dog might
not have done under the same circumstances.

Then the underbrush swayed rapidly just ahead, and presently
before us stood an immense male gorilla. He had gone through
the jungle on his all-fours; but when he saw our party he erected
himself and looked us [boldly] in the face. He stood about a
dozen yards from us [and was a sight I think never to forget].
Nearly six feet high (he proved two inches shorter), with immense
body, huge chest, and great muscular arms, with [fiercely
glaring] large deep gray eyes [and a hellish expression of face,
which seemed to me like some nightmare vision]: thus stood be-
fore us this king of the African forests.

He was not afraid of us. He stood there, and beat his breast
with his huge fists till 1t resounded like an immense bass-drum
[which is their mode of offering defiance]; meantime giving vent
to roar after roar. ‘

[His eyes began to flash fiercer fire as] we stood motionless on
the defensive, and the crest of short hair which stands on his
forehead began to twitch rapidly up ana down, while his powerful
teeth (fangs) were shown as he again sent forth a thunderous
roar. {And now truly he reminded me of nothing but some

Reprinted through courtesy of Harper & Bros., publishers of Du Chaillu’s book,
“Equatorial Africa.”

238 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

hellish dream creature—a being of that hideous order, half man,
half beast, which we find pictured by old artists in some represen-
tations of the infernal regions.] He advanced a few steps—
then stopped to utter that [hideous] roar again—advanced again,
and finally stopped when at a distance of about six yards from
us. And here, as he began another of his roars and beating his
breast [in rage], we fired, and killed him.

With a groan [which had something terribly human in it, and
yet was full of brutishness], it fell forward on its face. The
body shook convulsively for a few minutes, the limbs moved
about in a struggling way, and then all was quiet—death had
done its work, and I had leisure to examine the huge body.
It proved to be five feet eight inches high, and the muscular de-
velopment of the arms and breast showed what immense
strength it had possessed.

These facts are no doubt accurate. Du Chaillu
and his men pursued a gorilla in the forest. When
they came too close he roared at them. I have seen
little monkeys scold an intruder in similar fashion.
His face twitched and he beat his breast. My motion
picture shows a gorilla beating her breast when not at
all mad. The gorilla advanced on them not in a
ferocious rush but hesitatingly a few steps at a time.
They shot it.

I don’t blame Du Chaillu for feeling the way he
did, for, under the circumstances in which he hunted
the gorilla, most people would have had even much
worse feelings than he had. Then, too, when Du
Chaillu wrote, tales of African exploration were
under an unwholesome pressure comparable to that
to which African motion pictures are being sub-
jected to-day. I have it on reliable authority that
Du Chaillu was twice requested to revise his manu-

GORILLA ALMOST MAN? 239

script before his publishers considered it exciting
enough to be of general interest. All I want to point
out is that the gorilla should be judged by what he
does, not by how the people that hunt him feel.

And it is of more importance to judge the gorilla
correctly than any other animal for he is unquestion-
ably the nearest akin to man. Most scientists agree
that man and the gorilla had common or at any rate
similar ancestors. Since that time man has passed
through the dawn of intelligence and devel-ped the
power to reason and to speak. But how ne developed
these powers no one knows. The gorilla has not these
powers, but he has so many other likenesses to man
that there is no telling how near he is to the dawn of
intelligence.

In the whole doctrine of evolution there is no one
subject more interesting or likely to be more fruitful
to study than the gorilla. He presents most impor-
tant opportunities to the students of comparative
anatomy, to the psychologists, to the many kinds of
specialists in medicine, not to mention the students
of natural history.

It is very commonly stated, in the Century Dic-
tionary and Cyclopedia, for example, that the gorilla
“lives mostly in trees.”” Unquestionably this is true
of the chimpanzee but I do not think it true of the
gorilla. I believe that he has nearly passed out of the
arboreal phase of life and is perhaps entering the
upright phase and that he is the only animal except
man that has achieved this distinction. To stand erect
and balanced, an animal needs heels. The plaster

240 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

cast of the gorilla’s foot shown in the accompanying
illustration is ocular evidence of what science has
long known—that the gorilla has developed a heel.
Moreover, the scientists who studied the body of
John Daniel, the young captive gorilla that died
in New York, discovered that, unlike any other
animal, the gorilla has the same full complement of
foot muscles which enables man to walk upright. The
gorillas I saw in Africa always touched both their
feet and hands to the ground in running but most of
the weight was on their feet. Their legs are short,
their arms long, and they carry the body at an angle
of 45 degrees forward. They do not, however, put
their hands down flat and rest their full weight on
them. They seem to be evolving toward a two-
legged animal. And if they spent most of their time
in trees they would not have developed heels and leg
muscles for walking upright on the ground.

Not only has the gorilla developed a heel, but his
big toe is much nearer like man’s than that of any
other animal. This may seem a small matter, but a
big toe that turns out from the foot as a thumb does
from the hand can grasp branches and is useful in
climbing. A big toe that is parallel with the other
toes is useful for walking but not for climbing.

But the gorilla has not lost all his arboreal char-
acteristics by any means. The length, size, and
strength of his arms are evidence of the tree-climbing
habits of his ancestors. I know that a gorilla can
now climb with more ease than the average man.
But I only once saw gorillas in trees and that was

GORILLA ALMOST MAN? 241

when I was taking the moving picture of a mother
and two youngsters, and an active man could have
walked up the inclined trees these gorillas were on
about as easily as they did. Nor did I see any evi-
dences of their having been in trees. The German,
Eduard Reichenow, who observed gorillas in this
same area, agrees that the gorilla is seldom in trees:

While travelling, both kinds of apes (the gorilla and the
chimpanzee) move on the ground; yet the gorilla is much more
a stranger to tree living than the chimpanzee. . . . If the
gorilla climbs a tree in search of food, he again climbs down
the same trunk. Also at the approach of danger he is not
capable of swinging himself from tree to tree as the chimpanzee
does.

The hand of the gorilla is as interesting to me as his
foot. If you look at the illustration of the plaster cast
you will see that it looks much like a man’s, finger-
nails and all. You will see that the fingers are bent
over. When running he puts his knuckles on the
ground. Itisa peculiarity of the gorilla that when his
arms are extended his fingers are always bent over.
He can’t straighten them out except when his wrist
is bent. I can take the hand of the mummified baby
gorilla when its wrist is bent and put it over a stick
and then straighten his wrist and his fingers will close
over the stick so that I can lift him off the ground and
hang him up in this fashion. I suppose that this
peculiar characteristic is a legacy of his arboreal life
which has not left him even in all the years he has
been developing heels, muscles, and toes which are
good for ground work only.

242 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

I am certain that these Central African gorillas
have practically abandoned arboreal habits. Whether
the gorillas of the lower country of the west coast
have done so likewise I do not know from personal
observation. Du Chaillu reported that they did not
climb for food nor did they make their nests in trees
in that region.

It has been so commonly reported, however, that
the Century Dictionary states that “gorillas make a
sleeping place like a hammock connecting the thickly
leafed part of a tree by means of the long, tough,
slender stems of parasitic plants, and line it with the
broad dried fronds of palms or with long grass. This
hammock-like abode is constructed at different heights
from ten to forty feet from the ground.”

I cannot help believing that this report arises from
a confysion with the chimpanzee habits. The chim-
panzee is not strong enough to fight a leopard. Con-
sequently, he has to sleep out of reach of this foe. The
gorilla, on the other hand, has no foe but man. No
flesh-eating animal in his territory is large enough to
harm him. The gorilla is a vegetarian, so he kills
no animals for food, and he has not progressed
sufficiently along the paths of man to enjoy killing
as a sport. He lives in amity with the elephants,
buffalo, and all the wild creatures of his neighbour-
hood, and in the Mikeno region the natives drive their
cattle into the gorilla’s mountains in the dry season
of the year without molestation.

Altogether, then, as the gorilla has no enemies, he
has no need to fashion himself a bed out of harm’s

GORILLA ALMOST MAN? 242

way. All the gorilla beds I saw were on the ground.
They consisted of a pile of leaves, about what the
long arms of a gorilla could pull together without
moving. I saw no signs of their occupying these
hastily constructed sleeping places more than once.

The gorilla makes no abode, has no clothes, uses
no tools, unless grasping a stick may indicate the
beginnings of such an idea. It is still before the
dawn of intelligence with him. Yet scientists tell
me that he has the palate and muscles that enable
man to talk. In spite of Mr. Garner the gorilla can-
not talk, but no one knows how near to it he is. Prob-
ably he is a very long way from speech. Of course,
a parrot can be taught to talk, but a parrot has no
brains to speak of, so that his talking is of no signi-
ficance. But recent studies of the brain of John
Daniel seem to place his brain about on a par with
that of a two-year-old child. Now a two-year-old
child can both talk and think. If the gorilla with
his child’s brain could learn to use his voice even like
a parrot, we should have come very near to having
a contemporaneous “missing link.” This, of course,
is very unlikely to happen and it is not necessary, for
science can make deductions from the gorilla’s brain,
muscle, habits, etc., which will enable us to under-
stand more of the gorilla’s significance for evolution
without such a spectacular event as his acquiring
speech. I mention such a thing merely as an un-
scientific way of trying to dramatize the importance
of the study of the gorilla.

Of course it does not follow that because the

244 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

gorilla’s palate and muscles are like man’s that he
will be able to talk or pass out of the barking or roar-
ing phase. The gorilla has what might be called
‘roaring pouches”’ that extend down the side of his
neck. It is an interesting fact that there is evidence
of these same pouches in man, although they are
nearly atrophied from long disuse. It seems, there-
fore, that even if the gorilla does not learn man’s
speech, man at one time used the gorilla’s roar or one
of his own.

Man differs from most animals in the amount of
variation in the different members of the species.
The skull measurements of half-a-dozen lions, for
example, will be much more nearly uniform than the
skulls of half-a-dozen men. In this particular the
gorilla is like man. Their skulls show great varia«
tion. The gorilla skulls I brought back will exem-
plify this. The death masks of these gorillas show
another interesting thing which I never noticed un-
til I put the masks of the animals shot on Mt. Mikeno
in one group andthose shot on Mt. Karisimbi in
another. The male and female of Mikeno resemble
each other more nearly than either of them do any
of the Karisimbi gorillas. Likewise the three Kari-
simbi gorillas have features more alike than any of
them are like either of the Mikeno faces. Whether
these are family resemblances or whether they arise
from geography, which seems doubtful, as the moun-
tains merge in a saddle at between 10,000 and 11,000
feet, or whether it is accidental I do not know. But
the fact suggests a line of study,

GORILLA ALMOST MAN? 245

I did not see a gorilla in infancy, but there are two
interesting accounts of travellers in this region who
have seen them. Reichenow says:

I was successful on the hunt to capture an animal only a few
days old. It weighed only 2 kg., therefore considerably less
than a newborn human child, while an old gorilla considerably
exceeds an outgrown man in weight. The whole body of the
little gorilla was sparsely covered with hair so that it almost
appeared naked; only on the crown of its head there arose
straight up a tuft of long brown hairs. This manner of hair
growth gave the little ape a particularly human appearance.

When one saw the little being, which flourished beautifully
at the breast of a Negro nurse, in its helplessness, one had to
become convinced that the gorilla nursling needs the greatest
care and attention on the part of its mother. On the soft high
bed the mother can well cover with her body the tiny young one
which is in great need of warmth, without its running a chance of

being crushed by her heavy body.

Late in 1919 I received a letter from an English
hunter, Mr. C. D. Foster, which contained the follow-
ing paragraphs concerning a gorilla hunt on Mt.

Mikeno:

I noticed that the nearest gorilla was holding a very small one
in her arms. I shot and wounded her and she came toward
me still holding the young one. I shot again and she dropped.
The rest, by this time, were just disappearing, and having shot
two good specimens I did not try to follow them.

I approached the female gorilla and found her lying stomach
down resting on her elbows and still clasping the young one.
She was evidently nearly dead and I took a photo of her in this
position. I then waited for her to die which she did within a few
minutes, so I went up to her and took away the baby gorilla
which was quite uninjured and apparently was not more than
24 hours old. . . . The baby gorilla (a female) is now two

246 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

months old and in the best of health and weighs nine pounds.
She has cut six teeth and the only ailment she has had was a
cold which she evidently caught from me and which she recovered
from very quickly. She does not show any signs of walking
yet and up till now I have fed her entirely on cow’s and goat’s
milk and occasionally, when fresh milk was unobtainable, on
canned milk.

P. S. Since writing the above, which has been unavoidably
delayed in mailing, the young one which I mentioned has died;
at the time of her death she was just over three months old.

One of the most interesting facts in this account
of Foster’s is the fact that the baby gorilla caught
cold from him. Animals usually do not catch man’s
diseases. Seemingly the gorilla is near enough man
to contract at least some of them. Probably he is not
immunized against any contagious diseases. This
free-of-disease state, if it exists, will make him a unique
pathological study. And certainly the gorilla differs
from other animals in his freedom from parasitical
disease. I did not have an opportunity to study him
with a microscope, but he is the only wild animal in
Africa that I have ever skinned and cut up for scien-
tific purposes that had no visible signs of parasites on
him or in him.

Reichenow also has made some deductions about
the family life of gorillas in the Mikeno region which
are interesting. ‘‘The sleeping plans of the members
of a gorilla company,” he says, “do not lie irregularly
near each other but we find them joined in groups of
two, three, or four, which lets us clearly recognize that
within the herd there exists a division according to
families. The nests of a family lie close to each other

GORILLA ALMOST MAN? 247

and are from eight to fifteen meters away from the
neighbouring group, so that the various groups
seemed closed off from each other by the thick riot
of plants, like various dwellings. From the size of
the nests we see that always only two of them belong
to adult animals; if there are more nests present, these
are always smaller and therefore belong to the half-
grown young. From this observation we get the
noteworthy fact that the gorilla lives in monogamy.”

I cannot say that my observations corroborate
this deduction. In one of the bands I saw there were
three adult males. They might under his theory
have been heads of three families. But in the other
band there was but one male and several females.
The extra females may have been spinster aunts of
the family, but on the other hand, it might just as
well have been a case of polygamy. The truth is
that people know little about the habits of the gorilla.
Really to know about an animal requires long and
intimate study. Comparatively few people have
even shot gorillas. Gorilla skeletons, even, have not
been common for study like those of other animals.
The avidity with which the doctors of the College of
Physicians and Surgeons in New York seized upon
the body of John Daniel shows both how rare and how
important the opportunity to study the gorilla is to
the science of medicine as well as to that of compara-
tive anatomy. And even less of study has been given
the gorilla’s living habits than has been devoted to
his dead body and bones. Most of the information
which man can get of and from this nearest relative

248 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

in the animal kingdom is still to be had. But unless
some measures are quickly taken to get this informa-
tion, the opportunity will be lost. The gorilla is on his
way to extinction. He is not particularly numerous.
He is neither wary nor dangerous. He is an easy
and highly prized prey to the “‘sporting”’ instinct.

As I travelled down from Mikeno toward the White
Friars’ Mission the fascinating possibilities of the
study of the gorilla and its immense scientific im-
portance filled my mind along with the fear that his
extinction would come before adequate study was
made. ‘These considerations materially led my mind
to the idea of a gorilla sanctuary; and I realized
that a better place than the one I had just left
could hardly be hoped for. The three mountains,
Mikeno, Karisimbi, and Visoke stand up in a tri-
angle by themselves. Their peaks are about four
miles apart. On the slopes of these mountains, in
the bamboos and in the dense forest, there are several
bands of gorillas. I judge that there are between
fifty and one hundred animals altogether. In all
probability the animals in this region stay on these
three mountains. Such is the belief of the natives,
and it is a reasonable belief because if they left
these peaks they would have to travel very consider-
able distances to find similar security and food sup-
plies elsewhere. This being true the three peaks
can become a gorilla sanctuary by the simple expedi-
ent of preventing hunters from invading them.

It has been proved over and over again that animals
very quickly learn to remain in places where they are

GORILLA ALMOST MAN? 249

safe from hunting. Likewise in those places animals
soon learn to accept man without fear just as they da
other animals. The case of the bears in the Yellow-
stone Park is known to everyone. At Banff, in the
Canadian Rockies, protection has led even so shy
an animal as the mountain sheep to accept man
enough to be photographed at short distances. Were
the gorillas on the three peaks protected I am certain
that in a very short time they would become so ac-
customed to man that they could be studied in their
native surroundings in a way that would rapidly
produce most interesting and important scientific
results.

This sanctuary would not interfere with any other
activity in the country. The gorilla range is not fit
for agriculture. The natives use it now as a source
for firewood and a grazing ground for their cattle.
It could continue to be put to these uses as far as the
zorillas would be concerned. Elephants, buffaloes,
and other animals might flock into the sanctuary
30 as to become something of a! problem, but their
numbers could be kept down without disturbing the
gorillas’ sense of security.

To create this sanctuary would be comparatively
easy and inexpensive. I think it would require first
of all that the sanctuary be bounded by a road. I
do not think it would be necessary to fence the
sanctuary for I believe the gorillas would stay inside
its limits. The road would be chiefly for police pur-
poses to make it easier to be sure that hunters stayed
outside. The policing of the road could be done by

250 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

the natives. As the pay of such a policeman is about
five cents a day, the maintenance of the force is not
a great matter.

Besides the road and the police the sanctuary
would need a few trails and a station to consist of a
residence for a white director of the sanctuary, living
quarters for the scientists, enough servants to keep
the station going, and a simple field laboratory.
Neither the building nor maintenance for such an
institution would be expensive in Central Africa. I
know of no other effort of so moderate a size likely to
lead to such immediate and valuable scientific results.
Moreover, if the study of the gorilla is not made in
some such way as this now, it is not likely that it will
ever be made at all. If three more gentlemen like
the Prince of Sweden go into the Mikeno region there
will be no gorillas left there. Gorillas were origi-
nally discovered on the west coast and they have been
reported at various places across Central Africa from
the west coast to the Mikeno region, but in no region
are they numerous; and if they should succeed the
lion and the elephant as the “correct” thing to shoot,
their extinction would be but a matter of a very few
years.

On the other hand, a very few years of study by a
succession of scientific men from the best institutions
would unquestionably produce far-reaching results.

CHAPTER XV

ROOSEVELT AFRICAN HALL—A RECORD FOR THE
FUTURE

HAVE dreamt many dreams. Some of them
have been forgotten. Others have taken con-
crete shape and become pleasing or hateful to me

in varying degree. But one especially has dwelt with
me through the years, gradually shaping itself into a
commanding plan. It has become the inspiration and
the unifying purpose of my work; all my efforts during
recent years have bent toward the accomplishment
of this single objective—the creation of a great African
Hall which shall be called Roosevelt African Hall.

I have always been convinced that the new meth-
ods of taxidermy are not being used to the full; that,
although the taxidermic process has been raised to an
artistic plane, a great opportunity still remains for
its more significant and comprehensive use in the
creation of a great masterpiece of museum exhibition.
Then, too, I have been constantly aware of the rapid
and disconcerting disappearance of African wild
life. And I suppose that those two considerations
gave rise to the vision of the culmination of my work
in a great museum exhibit, artistically conceived,
which should perpetuate the animal life, the native
customs, and the scenic beauties of Africa.

251

252 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

When I returned to America in I911, my mind
saturated with the beauty and the wonder of the
continent I had left, I was dreaming of African Hall,
One year later my ideas were sufficiently defined
to be laid before Professor Henry Fairfield Osborn,
President of the American Museum of Natural
History, who approved my plans and asked that they
be presented to the Trustees of the Museum. The
plan that I proposed to the Trustees provided for a
great hall devoted entirely to Africa, which should
put in permanent and artistic form a satisfying record
of fast-disappearing fauna and give a comprehensive
view of the topography of the continent by means of
a series of groups constructed in the best museum
technique. Neither in this nor in any other country
has such an exhibit been attempted. Not only
would the proposed hall preserve a unique record of
African wild life, but it would also establish a stand-
ard for museum exhibition in the future.

The Trustees approved my plan for immediate
execution; the undertaking was to go forward as
rapidly as funds were available. One of the old
North American mammal halls, rechristened the
“elephant studio,” because there the mounting of the
elephant group was already under way, was retained
for my use and there, to crystallize my conception, I
made a model of the African Hall. This model repre-
sents a great unobstructed hall, in the centre of which
stands a statuesque group of four African elephants
with a group of rhinos at either end. Both on the
ground floor and in the gallery, with windows seeming

ROOSEVELT AFRICAN HALL 253

to open upon them, are arranged habitat groups of
the African fauna with typical accessories and pan-
oramic backgrounds. The long and arduous task of
mounting the central elephant group, the first unit
for the exhibit which the model sketched in miniature,
was interrupted by the war.

Many of the undertakings that were making long
strides toward completion in 1914, to-day stand ar-
rested due to conditions following the war. Only
one by one can they fall back to their natural places
in the march of progress, and the most urgent must
be given place first. African Hall is one of those
projects which cannot be delayed. Now or never
must it become a reality. Twenty-five years ago,
with innumerable specimens at hand, its development
would have been an impossibility. Even if a man
had had all the animals he wanted from Africa, he
could not have made an exhibit of them that would
have been either scientific, natural, artistic, or satisfy-
ing, for twenty-five years ago the art of taxidermy
and of museum exposition of animal life hardly ex-
isted. Likewise, in those days much of the informa-
tion that we had about animals through the tales of
explorers, collectors, and other would-be heroes was
ninety-five per cent. inaccurate.

Twenty-five years hence the development of such
a hall will be equally impossible for the African ani-
mals are so rapidly becoming extinct that the proper
specimens will not then be available. Even to-day
the heads that are reaching London from British
East Africa are not up to the old standards. If an

254 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

African Hall is to be done at all, it must be done now.
And even if it is done now, we must have men to do
it who have known Africa for at least a quarter of a
century. Africa to-day is a modern Africa, the
Africa of the Age of Man. Africa then was still the
Africa of the Age of Mammals, a country sufficiently
untouched by civilization to give a vivid impression
of Africa a hundred years ago. By the time the
groups are in place in African Hall, some of the species
represented will have disappeared. Naturalists and
scientists two hundred years from now will find there
the only existent record of some of the animals which
to-day we are able to photograph and to study in
the forest environment. African Hall will tell the
story of jungle peace, a story that is sincere and faith-
ful to the African beasts as I have known them, and it
will, I hope, tell that story so convincingly that the
traditions of jungle horrors and impenetrable forests
may be obliterated.

With all haste, when the war was over, I turned
again to African Hall—to Roosevelt African Hall, for
naturally after the death of that great American who
so deeply desired to bring to the world a knowledge of
beautiful Africa and who had himself shot the old
cow for the elephant group, we gave the proposed
hall his name. The thought that my greatest under-
taking was to stand as a memorial to Theodore
Roosevelt doubled my incentive. I am giving the
best there is in me to make Roosevelt African Hall
worthy of the name it bears.

The structure itself will be of imposing dimensions.

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A spacious open hall will occupy the central portion
of the building. As I have planned it, the floor
measurement of this great open space is sixty by one
hundred and fifty-two feet; the height to the gallery
at the sides is seventeen feet and that over the centre
to the ceiling, thirty feet. Its floor space will be
encroached upon only at the corners by the elevators;
that is, the actual open floor space without columns
or any obstruction whatever will be sixty by one
hundred and sixteen feet. In the centre of this large
hall will stand the group of four African elephants
treated in statuesque fashion, mounted on a four-foot
base with no covering of glass. At one end of the
elephants, the group of black rhinoceros will be
placed; at the other end, the white rhinoceros. Asa
result of late developments in the technique of taxi-
dermy, we are able to treat these pachyderms so that
they will not suffer because of lack of protection
under glass. Changing atmospheric conditions will
have no effect upon them and they can receive es-
sentially the care given to bronzes.

Since the elephant is the largest land mammal
in the world to-day and one of the most splendid of
all animals of the past or present, and especially since
it is typical of Africa, it is fitting that the elephant
should dominate this hall. Except for bronzes at
either end facing the main entrances, there will be
nothing in the central open space to detract from
the majesty of the elephants and the lumbering bulk
of the rhinos. Visitors, pausing to study the ele-
phants, may look out on either side as though through

ROOSEVELT AFRICAN HALL 257

open windows into an African out-of-doors, for the
other great animals of the continent in their natural
environment of forest, plain, river, or mountain, will
surround the central hall. The position of these
habitat groups in a kind of annex has a double ad-
vantage: it permits them to be carefully protected
against atmospheric conditions and prevents any
infringement upon the measurements of the hall
proper. There will be forty of these realistic groups
—twenty viewed from the main floor and twenty
more, similarly executed, but displaying the smaller
animals, viewed from the gallery.

The forty canvases used as backgrounds will be
painted by the best artists available. Each will
be an accurate portrayal of a definite type of African
scenery, usually showing some feature of importance
—Mt. Kenia on the equator, the waterless plains of
Somaliland, or the gorilla forests of the Kivu country.
Together they will give a comprehensive idea of the
geographical aspect of Africa from the Mediterranean
on the north to Table Mountain at Cape Town, and
from the east coast to the west coast.

The mounted specimens in the foreground will
combine to represent in the most comprehensive way
the animal life of the continent. These groups
will be composite—that is, as many species will be
associated in each of them as is consistent with
scientific fact. For example, one of the large cor-
ner groups will represent a scene on the equatorial
river Tana, showing perhaps all told a dozen species
in their natural surroundings with stories of the ani-

258 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

mals and a correct representation of the flora. In
the foreground on a sandbar in the river will be a
group of hippos; across the stream and merging into
the painted background, a group of impalla come
down to water; in the trees and on the sandbars of
the farther bank two species of monkeyscommon to the
region; a crocodile and turtles basking in the sun near
the hippos, and a few characteristic birds in the trees,

Another of these large corner groups will be a

scene of the plains, a rock kopje with characteristic
animals such as the klipspringer, hyrax, Chanler’s
reedbuck, and baboons on the rocks, the background
leading off across the plain showing a herd of plains
animals—and the adjoining group continuing the
story by showing more of the species of the plains.
The third of the large corner groups will represent
a Congo forest scene with the okapi and chimpanzee
perhaps, and such animals as may be associated legiti-
mately with the okapi. The fourth group will be a
desert scene, a water hole with a giraffe drinking
and other animals standing by, awaiting their turn.
_ In these four corner groups we can present the
four important physical features of African game
country, and they can be supplemented, of course,
by the scenes in the thirty-six other groups. The
large groups, however, give opportunity for particu-
larly striking scenic effects.

Lack of care in museum exhibition has come about
in part at least because of the lack of permanence in
the specimens exhibited. Now that we have reached
a point in the development of taxidermy technique

THIRD FLOSR

FIRST FLOOR
A SECTION OF THE “ANNEX” CONTAINING THE HapitatT Groups

(A) Floor of group space, sunk four feet below the level of hall floor
to permit of various elevations of foregroup in group. (B) Floor
of gallery group case. (E) Glass roof of gallery group case. (F)
Glass roof of main floor group case.

(G) Glass in front of gallery case set at angle to cut reflections.
(H) Glass in main floor case. (I) Space occupied by bronze
panels. (J) Space above gallery groups for artificial lighting pur-
poses. (L) Plane of painted background.

259

260 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

where we can say without reservation that our prep:
arations are permanent, permanent to a degree only
dreamed of within the last twenty years, we feel justi-
fied in taking extreme measures to insure the future
care and preservation of these preparations. The
elephants and rhinos can be made as permanent as
bronze for endurance under all conditions, but the
other animal groups with their backgrounds and with
accessories necessarily made largely of wax cannot
be thus exposed. That they shall not suffer from
excessive light and from changing atmospheric con-
ditions, they will be placed in two great alleyways
on either side of, but practically outside, the hall, her-
metically sealed off from the hall proper and also from
the outside atmosphere. Thus each group will be abso-
lutely protected from changes in temperature and hu-
midity. Each group will be in fact within an individ-
ual compartment, and allowed to “breathe” only the
air of the alleyway, which is filtered and dried and
kept at a uniform temperature throughout the year.
Artificial light will be used for these groups.

The amount of light required on them will be rela-
tively small because of the fact that they are to be
viewed from a relatively dark central hall. We shall
be looking from the hall into the source of light
rather than from the source of light outward. Also,
reflections can be reduced to a minimum and practi-
cally eliminated, owing to the fact that the groups are
the source of illumination, by having the glass in the
front of the case inclined at such an angle that it re-
flects only the dark floor.

ROOSEVELT AFRICAN HALL 261

In addition to the forty groups, twenty-four bas-
relief panels in bronze (six by eleven feet each) are
planned as a frieze just above the floor groups and
along the balcony to form a series around the entire
lower floor, becoming a part of the architectural
decoration of the hall. The sculpture of each panel
will tell the story of some native tribe and its relations
to the animal life of Africa.

For instance, one panel will show a Dorobo fam-
ily, the man skinning a dead antelope brought in
from the forest to his hut, where are his wife and
babies and two hunting dogs, their only domestic
animals. A further interest in animal life will be
revealed in the presence of the dead antelope as it is
a source of food and clothing, for these people live
entirely by hunting. Another panel may show a
group in Somaliland with camels, sheep, goats,
cattle, and ponies at a water hole, domestic beasts
furnishing the interest in animal life. Still another
panel completing the Somali story will represent a
group of Midgans in some characteristic hunting
scene. While each of these panels should be a care-
ful and scientifically accurate study of the people
and their customs, accurate in detail as to clothing,
ornaments, and weapons, the theme running through
the whole series should be the relationship of the
people to animal life.

If an exhibition hall is to approach the ideal, its
plan must be that of a master mind, while in actuality
it is the product of the correlation of many minds
and hands. In all the museums of the world to-day

262 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

there are few halls that reveal a mastering idea and
an interdependence of arts and crafts. Adminis-
trations change. One man’s aim is replaced by an
aim entirely different when another undertakes his
work. ‘The institution’s inheritance of exhibits must
usually be housed along with the new. Recently
acquired specimens, satisfactorily mounted, are
crowded in inadequate space and completely subor-
dinate those specimens which, although they are of
equal importance for the understanding of the specta-
tor, give no illusion of life and have no appeal. Even
when the architectural arrangement is good and the
taxidermy acceptable, a heterogenous collection of
exhibition cases or an inadequate lighting system
may mar the harmony of the whole. Thus, there are
plentiful opportunities in the meandering process,
of which an exhibition hall is frequently the result,
for the original plan to become fogged.

But no such conditions shall spoil the symmetry
of Roosevelt African Hall. Every animal killed has
been carefully selected with this great exhibit in
mind. Each group mounted is being constructed as
an integral part of the whole. A building has been
especially designed to give the exhibit the most ef-
fective and appropriate setting. And the future
is being insured by the training of men who shall
carry forward the technique so far developed. Each
man is carefully chosen. Each must have energy,
common sense, a special ability, and a great love
for the duties at hand. And although each may bea
specialist in his own line, all are forming the habit

ROOSEVELT AFRICAN HALL 263

of working together as day by day they assemble the
carefully tanned skins, the clean, well-shaped mani-
kins, the silk and wax leaves and grasses, and the
painted canvases for the backgrounds. For the first
time we have the opportunity to train a group of men
not only to practise the various arts which are com-
bined in making modern ZoGlogical exhibits, but also
to further develop the methods that make this sort
of museum exhibition worth while from the scientific
and artistic standpoint. In this considerable corps of
men I am resting my hope that the technique of my
studio shall be carried on to higher perfection in-
stead of scattering or being carried underground
when my part shall be done. This is important not
only for Africa, but for all other continents as well,
inasmuch as we are making records of rapidly disap-
pearing animal life. From my point of view, this
school of workers is perhaps the most important of
all the results of the work on Roosevelt African Hall.

Every group in Roosevelt African Hall must be
made by the men who make the studies in Africa so
that the selection of environment, the background,
and the story to be told shall be typical and so that
every detail of accessory or background shall be scien-
tifically accurate. It was formerly the custom, and is
still in many museums, to send hunters into the field
to kill animals and to send the skins back to the
museum where a taxidermist mounts them. The
taxidermist does not know the animals. He has no
proper measurements for them. Usually the hunter
‘does not supply them and, even if he does, they are

264 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

of little value; for one man’s measurements are not
often reliable guides for another man to work by.
In making a group as it really should be done, we
cannot rely on one man out in the field to shoot and
another back at the museum to mount. The men
who study the animal and who shoot him must come
back and mount him, and the men who make the
accessories and who paint the background must go
and make their studies on the spot. When all this
is done the cost of the skins, instead of being half the
expense of a group, is not five per cent.

I shall make the gorilla group, on which I am now
at work, a real example of the proper method. A go-
rilla group undertaken three years ago in the average
museum would have been done in the following man-
ner. Skins would have been purchased from hunters
in Africa. The men who were going to mount them
would have studied the available writings on gorillas.
They would have found out that the gorilla was a
ferocious animal who inhabited the dense forests
and, like as not, that he lived in trees most of the
time. And that is the kind of animal the group would
have shown.

Not satisfied with such a method, I went to Africa
to get acquainted with the gorilla in his home. I
found him in a country of marvellous beauty, spending
much of his time in the open forests or in the sun-
shine of the hillsides. I found, too, that he was
neither ferocious nor in the habit of living in trees.
He can climb a tree just as a man can climb a tree,
but a group of human beings up a tree would be

ROOSEVELT AFRICAN HALL 265

as natural as a gorilla group in the same position.

The setting of the group of five gorillas is to be
an exact reproduction of the spot where the big
male of Karisimbi died. In mounting them I have
my personal observation, my data and material to
work from. My own measurements are significant
and helpful. I have photographs of the scenery,
the setting, and the gorillas themselves. I have
photographs of their faces—not distorted to make
them hideous but as they naturally were—and death
masks which make a record that enables me to make
the face of each gorilla mounted a portrait of an indi-
vidual. All this makes these unlike any other mounted
gorillas in the world. After all the work that I had
put on them I was glad to get the corroboration
of one who knows gorillas as well as T. Alexander
Barnes. He had followed gorillas in the Kivu coun-
try where I got my specimens. As he looked at
the first of the group standing in my studio, he ex-
claimed, “Well, thank God! At last one has been
mounted that looks like a gorilla.”

Still with all our work we are only well started
on the gorilla group. The background—and it is
a beautiful scene—must be painted by as great an
artist as we can get and he must go to Karisimbi
to make his studies. And the preparators who make
the accessories—the artificial leaves, trees, and
grasses—they, too, must go to examine the spot and
collect their data, for every leaf and every tree and
every blade of grass must be a true and faithful copy
of nature. Otherwise, the exhibit is a lie and it would

266 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA

be nothing short of a crime to place it in one of the
leading educational institutions of the country.

But, someone will say, this is all in the future.
What has already been accomplished? What defi-
nitely is the status of Roosevelt African Hall?

Well, 1am mounting animals. The elephant group,
the white rhinoceroses, and one of the okapi are
completed and are now on exhibition. Work on the
gorilla group is advancing rapidly. There are already
collected and awaiting their turn to be mounted
materials for a black rhino group anda liongroup. I
have estimated that it will require at least ten years
and the expenditure of one million dollars to complete
the work. And there is good reason to hope that the
money needed will be provided. President Henry
Fairfield Osborn in his Annual Report of the American
Museum of Natural History for 1922 has called for
a gift or a special endowment of one million dollars to
finance and develop Roosevelt African Hall in addi-
tion to other funds now available, stressing this as the
most pressing need of the Museum in the year 1923.
The income from such a special endowment will
enable us to complete the African Hall during the
next decade and leave a million dollars of the new
special endowment for the development of the new
building to house the hall.

I am hopeful, too, that the Roosevelt Memorial
Hall, out of which Roosevelt African Hall will open, is
about to become a reality. The New York State
Legislature will soon have before it a bill to appro-
priate two and one half million dollars for a memorial

ROOSEVELT AFRICAN HALL 267

to New York’s great citizen. Such a building is one
of two plans for this memorial now under considera-
tion by the State Roosevelt Memorial Commission
and there is much reason to hope that it may be fa-
vourably received by the people of the state.

I ought not properly to be writing autobiographical
matter. That is usually a sign that a man is through
and the truth is that I am just ready to begin my
work. So far I have been studying my profession.
Now I am prepared to practise it on one great example
and in so doing to train men to continue my work so
that the museums of this country can portray what-
ever of animal life they desire in a way that will have
the greatest attraction and instruction for the public,
both lay and scientific. It is chiefly in the hope of
furthering that great project which must be under-
taken now—a project to put into permanent and ar-
tistic form a complete record of the fast-disappearing
animal life of the last stronghold of the Age of Mam-
mals—that I write these things. Enough has been
said to indicate that this is not one man’s task. It
may not even be accomplished by several men in the
span of one man’s life. But the future will show con-
crete results, for the slowest and most laborious
stages of preparation are now in the past. Years of
experimentat on have perfected taxidermy, years of
observation in the field have made a true conception
possible, the American Museum of Natural History
has committed itself to the plan—in a word, I am
about to realize my dream.

THE END

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